Love And Other Feelings I Don't Currently Associate With

When I realized I'd have the weekend to myself, I made a conscious decision to do something I've never done before: Go to the movies by myself. Co-dependent Rachel needed a break. And you know what? It was great.

I mean, when you think about it, it's probably one of the best activities you could do solo. You have to be quiet anyway, what does it matter if you're alone? I guess one drawback is that you can't talk to anyone about it after, although according to the Cinematic Snob Dolo, that is more of an incentive so your impressions aren't tarnished.

For this momentous occassion, I decided to see Love and Other Drugs. Spending $12 for two hours of Jake Eye Candy seemed like it would be a good investment whether or not I liked the movie. Cupcake Alert: It was.

(Total side bar, but does any one else find it incredibly bizarre that Jake went from practically married to Reese Witherspoon to dating Taylor Swift? That's like going from Barbie to Skipper, right??)

(Another side bar! During ACL four years ago - the middle of Austin's most famous bromance between Matthew McConaughey, Lance Armstrong, and Jake - I was backstage (thanks to S' awesome parents' hookup) and I walked past Jake and he acknowledged my presence. And because I'm the worst celebrity interactor in the world, I froze then ran away. And that could have been my chance at true love and I blew it. Or it was just another day in my life. Whatever.)

Okay I'm done. So the movie was no The Notebook. The love story was sweet and sad enough to remind me I'm going to die alone but not so sappy to make me cry. Also my heart is currently made of concrete. It could have all been so different, Jake.

I probably enjoyed the premise of the movie more than the average person since Big Pharma pays the bills (random, right?). It's crazy to see how much the industry has changed since the free-wheelin' pharma rep days (mucho regulations, for the better IMO). It was also a good reminder that we should not start dressing like the 90s again. That is a reminder for myself mostly. I have some weird stuff in my closet right now.

Here's the Times' review in case you want to read more about the movie without personal anecdotes about Jake, but really why would you?

"It's always been you, Rach."
FML.

I'm Exhausted From All My Thankfulness

The holiday weekend was the perfect mix of family, friends, and solitude. And I needed all three equally.

On Wednesday night I headed to my aunt and uncle's house in Beacon, a great little town up the Hudson River from the city. I really love it there, such a nice escape.

My dad's brother has lived in New York since before I was born. You would never guess he is from Lubbock, Texas. Much like my father, my uncle is The Smartest Person You've Ever Met. His wife is in the club too. Visiting them leaves me with a bit of an intellectual hangover, but in a refreshing way if that makes sense.

On Thanksgiving we headed to my cousin's house in Connecticut. Her kids are the ones who help me keep a pulse on America's Youth. Spoiler Alert: Silly Bandz are so over. Email forwards with funny animal pictures are still in.

As sad as it was to be missing out on my own family time (I hate to be left out!!), I really enjoy experiencing other families' traditions and holidays. Except when other people's Thanksgiving appetizers include mini pigs-in-a-blanket and I feel compelled to eat 27 of them because I make horrible decisions and have no self-control.

In addition those little evil treats and the normal turkey and sides, Colombian and Portuguese heritages were represented at the table making the meal quite a feast. Lasagna, arroz con polo, oh and homemade vino. I can respect that. All in all, it was a wonderful day (and, let's be honest, I probably did myself a favor by not watching the UT game...).

The next day I headed back to the city where I spent over 24 hours alone. I love my co-dependent life with The BFF, but I'm definitely one of those people who needs to recharge her batteries. It was gloriously unproductive.

On Saturday I caught up with my friend Jordan, introducing her to the Texas crew who had stayed in town too. All you can eat sushi and sake after two solid days of binge eating, why of course that's a great idea...!

But it wasn't over yet. On Sunday night, to finish off the weekend, my friend Cori and I went to the opening gala for the American Art Fair, courtesy of my uncle who works at a gallery. Clearly any event I'm invited to that includes passed h'orderves is right up my alley, but I wasn't aware it would have another one of my favorite things: Celebrity sightings!

I looked across the room, gazing past the beautiful paintings and WASPy crowd, when I focused in on a tuft of white hair and thick-framed glasses.

Steve Martin.

Genius, actor, comedian, wild and crazy guy, person I follow on Twitter, one time guest star on 30 Rock. Of course it took every ounce of strength to remain the totally dignified and sophisticated person I am, but I managed to play it cool. By that I mean I did not totally embarrass myself or accidentally break any priceless art.

His new novel An Object of Beauty is set in the New York art scene. I must read it now that we run in the same circles.

I think we can all agree that Father of the Bride is one of the best movies of all time.

Hope everyone else had a great Thanksgiving too!

Message In A Bloggle

A few weeks ago I had the most vivid dream I've had in years. Like Inception-style, other-people-in-this-dream-must-be-dreaming-this-too kind of experience.

It was me, The College BF, and his parents. Even though it was just in my mind, it was good to see these people who at one point were such a large part of my life. It ended with me hugging him and telling him that I was happy for his engagement.

The dream was simple. It was pleasant. And it provided some closure.

But since then, I've also vetted with my core group of advisors the benefits of reaching out to him to share this message, you know, to get actual closure. However, the idea has been almost unanimously vetoed. "What would be the point?" I can see how, after not having communicated for over a year and a half, it would almost seem selfish to interrupt his life.

So I've decided that blogging about it is clearly the best solution! That never ends badly!

According to Facebook, he and I still share 222 mutual friends. Some who probably read this. So if my congratulations somehow get back to him then that's great.

Instead of throwing a message in a bottle into the ocean, I'm sending out a message via the communication waves.

Okay, on second thought, this was way more awkward than just reaching out to him via email.

Story of my life.

P dot S: I'd also like to thank him for putting every single Zeppelin album on my iPod in college. Greatest Band Ever.

Thanks-Christmas: It's All Running Together

According to retail stores and TV commercials, we're well into the holiday season. I mean, it's only four weeks until Christmas so we better start getting our cheer on!

Oh, right, and Happy Thanksgiving!

I'm staying in the North, visiting relatives up here and enjoying a somewhat-quiet weekend in the city. I'm sad not to be going home, but knowing that in less than a month I will be spending twelve days of Christmas (and New Year's for my brother's wedding!) in Austin makes it seem okay.

One of my favorite Thanksgiving traditions, though, I will miss: Making my brother feel guilty for leaving me off his "thankfulness" placemat he made in preschool.  All three kids in my family have one, my youngest brother's goes something like this:

"I'm thankful for carrots, burritos, popcicles, water, cheetos. I'm thankful for sunshine and pumpkin pies. I'm thankful for Trey, Claire and Charlie and Dad and Mom...and Rachel"

Apparently he was too busy thinking about food and his neighbor friends to remember his only sister. I was a pretty smart elementary school aged kid at that point and I totally called my mom out for writing my name over the laminate!

Anyway, in honor of his random placemat of thankfulness, here are a few things I'm thankful for:

• The wonderful BFF who knows that festive party planning is the best way to help me get past any silly boy drama currently crumpling my ego. Oh, and having her surprise me with a Winter Wonderland-decorated apartment? That's why she's the best. (And why it pays to live in The Dollar Store District!)
• Congregating friends from various groups, stages of life, etc. all in one (tiny) apartment. I'm also grateful for my efficient domesticity, which led to me throwing together a baked brie with pecans & cranberries and pumpkin-chocolate cupcakes with minimal baking skills. Big hit, but low-stress and delicious. And sharing White Russians, because really what's more festive than the Big Lebowski's signature drink?
• Speaking of Russians, having The Russian and Jersey, two friends/former crushes/decent guys, show up to the aforementioned party. A nice reminder those do exist.
• My dog Jesse who has had a mysterious Facebook profile for over a year. Last year my mom told the family no one was allowed to eat Thanksgiving supper until somebody fessed up. A year later and it's still unsolved!
• Match.Mom's current project of setting me up with her childhood friend's extremely attractive, orthopedic surgeon son. Finally, a good reason to have your mom on Facebook.
• A fall full of fun. Between ACL, The Hunt, the Spelling Bee Halloween, and my mom's visit, I've had a fantastic time in my favorite season. (If only the Longhorns weren't having a "rebuilding year.")
• My family. I miss them and can't wait to see them soon!

Hope everyone else has a fantastic Thanksgiving! xoxo

CGS: A Case Study

It was brought to my attention that a certain someone - who, mind you, has already been mentally tossed into a boiling vat of You Are Dead To Me - has taken my Facebook ban one step further.

He blocked me.

Yes, it is dumb that this is something blog-worthy, but in our age of connectivity reliance, these are the hits that sting the most.

How did it come to this? One week ago he was telling me to "pull the trigger" to buy a ticket to see him while he was on the East Coast for Thanksgiving. Now he believes I'm worthy of an online blackballing?

Well according to our mutual friend S, it's under the umbrella of the Emily-matum. Because when she wasn't satisfied with his initial commitment to her (by unfriending me), she needed that extra step: Hatred solidification.

I mean, I can see why she wouldn't want there to be an online connection, but how was this necessary? Now? Mind you, in the past week, I've made zero effort to contact him so it's not like I'm fanning the flames. (Minus, you know, blogging about the situation. But, duh, don't scorn a girl with a blog! If anything I deserve some credit for my over-sharing constraint. And plus I could be far pettier if I wanted to. You know that.)

Back to the point. This situation has made her crazy. And I mean that in the nicest, I've-totally-been-there kind of way. He screwed her over, and now she needs to punish him see how far he's willing to go to make her happy.

The thing is, though, the reason why it's an interesting case study: I have never seen CGS actually end well.

Acting crazier to make him like you more? Leveraging your personal insecurities and jealousy in your favor?

Between myself, my friends, and - hell - even celebrities (I think we can all agree Jessica Simpson suffers from major CGS), I don't think I've ever witnessed an ending like this.

We're part of history, friends. It's a big day for crazy girls everywhere. CGS: It might just work.

(And yes, if you were thinking it was mildly CGSy of me to even figure out that he blocked me in the first place, you're right, but I'm not afraid to admit my digital sleuthing skills are top notch. And even though he's totally DTM (dead to me), it's only been a week, get off my back. I promise I'll be over it by tomorrow. And on to the next romantic tragedy.)

I'm Always Homeless in Philadelphia

LOVE Park is full of homeless people. Perhaps we should have
made some friends.

The first time I met Ashley was the morning after one of the worst nights of my life, which just so happened to take place in Philadelphia, her new home. (I had spent the night alone in the Philadelphia train station because I'm a cheap idiot who booked a trip home for a friend's wedding, justified saving $100 to fly out of Philly, and then was stranded there when the train taking me back to the city broke down. It was a monumental disaster.)

It was her first day at work, and I scared the crap out of her by acting like a genuine crazy person who had just slept in a bus station. Eventually she accepted that I am a crazy person so it's totally fine.

Since she moved there for grad school, I've been wanting to see her new home and perhaps learn a thing or two about the city of Brotherly Love.

I mean, what do most people know about Philly? It's historic. It's Always Sunny. It has a lot of really ghetto neighborhoods including one where Will Smith spent most of his days shootin' some bball outside of a school. And it also has a lot of cheesesteaks.

So I was determined to learn more, to really get in touch with the city.

The first 24 hours of my trip were fantastic. Ashley whipped up a delicious dinner for us on Friday, we stayed in and caught up over wine. The next morning we went to a great brunch over looking Rittenhouse Square where got to sit outside and soak up the warm fall weather. We were even treated to seeing a flock of tweed-clad bicyclists ride past our table. My first thought was, "Are we in Brooklyn?" My second thought was, "No, seriously, are we in Brooklyn?"

After walking around to see some famous stuff and stalking a bride doing her 'first sighting' with her husband which could not have been more awkward, we went back to her apartment and watched the Hangover.

A tale of debaucherous misadventure. How foreshadowing.

We went out and Ashley played the role of superior wingman. We met a group of cute guys at the first place who ended up serving as our resident pub crawl tour guides for the rest of the night. Until we ditched them so we could inhale cheesesteaks, obviously. That's when the night took an unfortunate turn. When we got out of the cab, Ashley realized her keys had fallen out of her purse at some point during our night. Uh oh. And no spare set.

Her boyfriend back in New York did his best to help us, calling every Philly locksmith while we tried to break down the door. It wasn't happening on either front. Apparently customer service isn't something they really value in the locksmith business. "Someone will be on their way in 15 minutes." Lies. All lies. Also apparently her apartment is really safe because there was no way to get in. At least that's something.

Oh and remember when I said it was unseasonably warm during the day? Well we hadn't bothered to bring jackets with us. Luckily my super scraggly long hair kept me warm.

We were getting so desperate that we even called around to hotels. How could they be all booked?!

Finally at around 3 am or so, Ashley broke down and called her mom who lives a half hour away. When she arrived, she found us hanging out with two police officers who had been like um what the hell are you doing out here, you are too pretty to be homeless.


I don't know what was weirder, the terror of
the 30 second blackout or seeing the Cowboys
play so well. Either way the seats were great.

Okay maybe they didn't say that. You see, I was already curled up, half asleep on the stoop, so I don't really remember what we talked about. Eventually a locksmith showed up (albeit not a very good one because he couldn't even pick one of the locks and had to drill through it), and we were finally let in around 5 am. 

One small problem, though, was that we had already committed to going to the Giants-Cowboys game with her family the next day, getting there early to tailgate. That left us with only a few hours of sleep and an hour-long car ride before we were to be surrounded by booze and barbecue.

In any other scenario, that would have been the perfect day. In any other not-homeless-the-night-before scenario that is.

While we both tried our best to enjoy the afternoon (read: not throw up), we decided to retrace our steps from the previous night to see if we could locate her keys.

Calling a bar to ask if they've found a set of keys with a "love" key chain is mildly embarrassing. Having to ask them for the name of the cheesesteak shop across the street so we could check there too is mortifying.

P dot S: During my homeless experience, it made me really curious why all homeless people don't migrate south for the winter. Sleeping outside in the cold is horrible. Why wouldn't you go somewhere warm? I mean birds have been doing it for years. Just a thought.

Take Out Dating

It's been awhile since I've shared one of my "wise" dating theories (probably because I've been too busy breaking all of my own rules to come up with any new ones). Long distance flings? Check. Thinking a guy wearing board shorts to the gym is cute? Check. Ugh. And the real kicker - I'm now on the same morning commute as a cute guy who I'm pretty sure is straight but I'll never know because he carries a Jack Spade bag! Gahhh.

My you look lovely tonight.

Okay on to the point. So if you don't live in New York, let me educate you: You can literally get anything delivered, food of course being the most popular and easily attainable at all hours of the day or night.

And glorious technology makes it so easy you don't even have to communicate with humans! Seamless Web, for instance, allows you to just tap tap tap on your phone/computer and voila food is delivered straight to your door. Whatever you want, baby, whenever you want it.

People like it quick and easy. And I'm not just talking about dinner. I've started to realize a pattern: If a guy mentions that he only eats takeout, chances are he sees his life as too busy to take the time to cook. If he can't even commit to throwing together a few ingredients, how do you expect him to act in a relationship? If a guy doesn't use (and/or own) real plates, chances are he's not a real person. And If he says he can't even boil water, sheesh. Good luck, you're going to need it, mom.

What's the point of all this? If he's so used to the grab-n-go availability of Peter Pan city life, chances are you might be tossed out with last night's Chinese.

Not always the case, but I'm just sayin', in my experience... Take Out Food = Take Out Dating. No preparation, no commitment, no real shelf life.

(I think the fact that I rarely order food says a lot about my current state of dating tolerance. I prefer to come home and whip up some semblance of a 30 Minute Meal, experimenting with fresh ingredients and *gasp* eating on real plates with real silverware. I am a freak.)

Guest Post: Twitter Flirting and More on the WORLD WIDE WEB OF TERROR

[Ed. note: Since this is clearly Horrible Blog Karma Week, we're sticking with the trend. It's not that the guys in these stories are necessarily bad people (although the jury is still out on one), it's just that they're breaking the rules they try and enforce with us ladies.

You see, there is a HUGE double standard in dating* and girls get a (deservedly) bad rap.  You call too many times? You're a psycho. You lead them on? You're a biatch. I'll admit it myself, I'll always be recovering from CGS.

But the thing is, women have LEARNED. Um, hello, He's Just Not That Into You? Well, I mean, okay, but at least we're TRYING. He doesn't respond to a few texts? Let him go. Guys, it seems, are regressing in their social skills. Take a hint! I blogged about it last year with a certain guy who couldn't get it in his mind I was just being nice, that I was never interested. The BFF had her Textual Menace (who went a little bananas after finding the post, telling her he was going to get his "Internet Guru Friends" to destroy her. He seriously explained SEO in the creepiest way possibile.

Anyway, the point is that some guys act like crazy girls. Yet they will never be judged as much if they were girls. It's just annoying. And I'm taking a stand. And "calling them out defenselessly in a public forum." Yeah, not the week to get on my bad side...

Okay this is officially the most rambly intro of all time. Let's get to the main event. After my former baby sorority sista Brooks commented on yesterday's Ultimatum post, I sent her some additional gossip about the story (yes, shockingly, I do have a limit about what I'll share with The Internet). Anyway, she recipricated with a story of her own, and was enough of a doll to share it with you. A little background: Brooks is a few years younger than me, just now setting out on her journey to Live the Dream - the La La Land verison that is. The only way to describe her is that she's a firecracker. Who is also obsessed with dogs. And uses more abbreves and made up words than me! You think I'm bad? Shet, watch out. And also her blog is amazing.] 

*By dating I mean two members of the opposite sex communicating, because most of this drama goes on without a single date!

From Brooks:

I was thrilled when, after graduation, I moved to a new city. After 4 dull years of college boys I was ready to meet some major emo hipster hotties. I’m talking the kind of men who are scruffy—not because they’re growing their beards out for SAE Junkyard, but because they didn’t have time to freshen up after sunrise surfing. Delusional? Yes. But a squirrel can dream.

This hipster, surfer, music-appreciating dreamboat is not what I found once I entered the West Coast. No, no. Instead, I got a burnout computer hacker who I’ve known since 2001. But I’m jumping ahead.

This boy, lets call him R2Creep2, and I go way back. We went to the same high school and ran around in the same crowd. We were never close, though, and my most vivid memory of him is when he asked me out my Freshman year. Nothing was special about the date except for the fact that I got nervous that he was an upper classmen so I forced my friend to come over and he ended up having to take both of us out to dinner. As Rachel would say, IAAB.

Clearly, R2Creep2 and I lost touch after high school. But because of magical things like Facebook and Twitter, we reconnected and I loosely learned that he was living out in California. When he found out I was moving there too, he tweeted at me, got my number, and was destined to be my friend in the sandy jungle that is Los Angeles.

When I arrived to the coast, he was unemployed, wearing tie-dye, and had a mysteriously red beard. “Money,” I thought to myself, “The one person I know here has literally nothing else better to do than be my tour guide. This rules!”

Fast forward a few weeks and a few activities later. R2Creep2 was becoming my go to when I had zero other plans. It was nice and easy—similar to the shampoo. It continued this way until one night when we got a little wonky and saw Jackass 3D. Sick movie (in the good way), sick aftermath (in the bad way).

After the movie, he walked me back to my house. It didn’t seem like he was leaving, so I let him stay and watch Mad Men (my fave). I convinced myself that I was still buzzed and thus hallucinating, because his hand kept inching dangerously close to my leg. Finally I kicked him out, took my dog out to shet, and hugged him goodbye. I watched Miles drop a deuce right as—from the corner of my eye—I see R2Creep2 stop at his car door, breath out heavy like “lets do this” sigh, march up to me, and kiss me on the mouth. I was stunned. He left. I went in my house and called everyone in my rolodex.

The next week it was my birthday, and because of his and my’s Twitter relationship, I knew he’d get word of the festivities, so I bit the bullet and invited him. He, of course showed up, but I managed to ignore him the entire night. He got kicked out with the rest of the party, and while I was cleaning up the night’s very fab aftermath, I got this text:

“Thanks for another Sunday funday. Happy birthday. Scorpios and Gemini = http://www.sexualastrology.com/sexual_compatibility_scorpio_gemini.html”

Okay.

No.

First off, omg. So inappropriate. Second, thanks for sending me a website link via text? That’s incredibly inconvenient. And third, did you go to the website? Because we are actually VERY INCOMPATIBLE. That “chemistry” scale? We had the lowest rating. One heart. That translates to “What were you thinking?!”

Whyyyyy.

Obviously I didn't respond to the text. A few days later, my actual birthday comes. Because work = life, I end up staying at the office until like 9PM. As if that’s not enough, when I get to my house, I find a terrifying thing on my porch: a bag of clothing from Amer Appar (his new job) stuffed to the brim. Oh jesus.

Texting ensues.

Me: Whaaat? You did NOT need to get me anything

Him: Pssssh you deserve a rad birthday. 10/26/10 get crunk this weekend. [My favorite part] Hustle-birthday Rick Ross.

What?

And it’s only gotten worse from there. I’ve gotten a total for 4 unreciprocated texts, two missed calls, and two @ mentions from this R2Creep2 character—one of which says “neither Willy Wompa, Zanzibar Santa Monica, bass in yo' face”. What? I don’t understand! Why wont it go away!

So I thought I moved to the “Golden State” but I actually moved to The State of Constant Fear. Every time I tweet, facebook, blog, gchat, I feel like he’s wathching. Or mapping our astrological cosmic energy. The ushh.

In conclusion, let this be a lesson to you all. Don’t be nice to people, ever. Don’t have friends in high school or keep up with them after. Don’t go to movies, don’t use technology, and for God’s sake, don’t have a birthday party. Because someone will find out your horoscope, and that someone will purchase ill-fitting over-priced shirts for your dog. From Amurcan Apparel.

The end.

[Oh the humanity.]

Another Experiment Gone Awry

Me and The BFF.

I mean, let's be honest, having a blog that chronicles my (mis)adventures in dating is a decent amount of baggage. We're talking "You'll be charged an extra $30 to check it cause it won't fit in the overhead bin" kind of baggage.

When I started The Guide two summers ago, I dated (and wrote about) guys who had no clue about it. Then I got back together with J, an avid reader, and that was that. Since he and I broke up last spring, I've almost exclusively dated/been interested in/hung out with guys who are friends-of-friends so they either learned about it through our mutual connection or at least could find it via Facebook. If they were smart enough... (Wasn't always the case.)

So when I met a relative stranger during Halloween - Kenneth the Page - and he friended me after our first date, I decided to make it so he couldn't see my website.

It's not so much that I'm sneaky/shady as it is that I like to perform "controlled experiments." Think of this as running a piece of string across 14th Street.

And, well, the experiment has concluded. And it worked out about as well as that tin can telephone. I mean, if we had been hit by a bus or arrested or something.

You might have read last week this innocent little sentence: "One freakin' day after I blog about the horrible, unforgivable awkwardness that is Facebook Poking, the guy I met on Halloween (Kenneth The Page) who I've gone out with a few times did it. Shudder. Is there no decency left in the world?"

Let's be honest, I've said much worse.

Midnight on Friday I received this text: "So. I was doing some Facebook "research" earlier today, and happened to come across a certain blog. Just wanted to say ... F*CK YOU!"

An hour later: "What... No response after I call you out for calling me out defenselessly in a public forum?"

Two hours later: "So, again, you have no issue publicly insulting me, but won't admit or respond to your actions... Nice."

The next morning, after I woke up, I apologized for blind-siding him with the blog and for hurting his feelings. I did note, however, that poking is awkward and a personal pet peeve. Or, you know, a universal pet peeve.

Clearly IAAB, but drunken, aggressive texts in the middle of the night? No thanks.

And another one bites the dust.

Do You Remember That Episode of FRIENDS?

I'll be honest, it always really bothered me that she
had on that horrible track suit when she did that.
I mean, it's a wedding, have some decency...

The one where Ross is about to marry Emily in London, and Rachel barges in, causing Ross to say the wrong name at the altar, and everything goes to hell?

Well, that's basically been my life this weekend. Without a wedding. Or jolly ol' England.

But the fact of the matter is that I was totally Rachel in this situation. And what do you know, the same  "If you want to stay together, you can't ever talk to Rachel again" ultimatum was presented.

Much like in the episode, "Ross" was torn. Did he live up to his commitment to "Emily," or tether himself to his friendship with Rachel on the chance that it could lead to something more?

The truth is, in my story at least, things shouldn't have gotten to the point that they did. But our connection and compatibility took our friendship a few steps way too far. Even though important factors - e.g. thousands of miles and other people's feelings - stood in the way, I still rocked the boat, making me the Girl Who Played With Fire. (I mean, obviously not literally. I'm no Lisbeth.) But either way, he reciprocated. Yes, I barged in and ruined their happiness. But he still said the wrong name at the altar.

He proceeded to flounder, per usual Ross style, going back and forth until he got to the decisive finale.

Unlike the show, he ended up accepting the Emily-matum. And he also accepted that her demand stemmed directly from her going through his email and finding my note where I laid out all my cards (and heart) on the line. (And I assume she also noticed his equally inspired reply.) But oh well. I guess sometimes conviction-fueled acts of CGS don't always end disastrously?

In the end, TV Ross can't bear to lose Rachel in his life.

In my life, Rachel gets UNfriended on Facebook. (Thanks to Mark Zuckerberg, it's much harder to "never speak to someone again" since speak now means chat, see, type, hear, and most importantly, stalk.)

And so now I move on.

P dot S: Can everyone channel themselves back to when the show was on the air? I was always on Team Ross and Rachel. The line from the first time they get together after all the will-they, won't-they - "It's always been you, Rach" - is my favorite line ever. Sigh. It's just so perfectly simple. And it probably helps having the same name. If only life - or sitcom plotlines - didn't make everything so complicated.)

The currency of your words is crap.

The currency of your words is crap. You spun a tale of gold. And because the glint and glean of what could be seemed so shiny and ideal, I happily traded in my better judgment.

And now my emotional capacity is bankrupt.

Someday I'd like to think that I'd grow past this naivity, that the next too-good-to-be-true pitch will have me turn my heels, but let's be honest, when it comes to the heart, I am the worst broker of all.

(Another post brought to you by the letters P-M-S. Fingers crossed I do not let my CGS get the better of me, because boy oh boy it is not a good idea to scorn a girl with a blog.)

Guide to Great New York Visits

My mom came to visit for a long weekend and it was a fabulous trip. Since I've lived here, she's only been in the company of my dad or my grandma so it was fun for her to fly solo.

Because she's been here so many times (and lived here when she was my age), I wanted to give her an experience rather than just another trip. Apparently having your mother experience life in the East Village where you might have minimal graffiti on your door can be a cause for parental concern.

But she survived.

Another goal for the weekend was to cross off a few activities on my "I Won't Get Around To This Unless Someone Is Visiting" List.

And it was perfect on both accounts.

Since this blog is also my only form of journal, bear with me while I remember all the fun we had:

Eating

Duh, of course this is what I think about first. Not only because I love to eat but because I like to eat good food. And since I've moved into a neighborhood with amazing food options - both well-recognized/expensive and quick/cheap - I've been making mental notes of great places to take guests. Friday night after my mom arrived, The BFF and I took her to one of our semi-regular places Tree, which was featured on Food Network's Best Thing I Ever Ate.

Saturday afternoon we had an extraordinarily delicious brunch at Momofuku Ssam Bar, and that night we ate our Longhorn football feelings at Hill Country BBQ. Sunday morning I took advantage of an opportunity to use up produce in my fridge and whipped us up a mushroom tomato frittata and apple cinnamon pancakes for brunch, and later on I introduced my mom to the pizza most likely to give you a heart attack at Artichoke. After all this great food, I was a little surprised that she considered our lunch by my office (Dishes!) to be the culinary highlight. In her defense, it is amazing.

To wash it all down, over the course of the weekend we had approximately 400 cups of Dunkin' Donuts pumpkin coffee. It's just so good when it hits your lips. If you are in proximity to a DD, I highly recommend try it. (For you Southerners, there is a weird Dunkin' Donuts infatuation here which was one of the hardest cultural differences to overcome. I can now say I'm a convert.)

Daytime activities
When the weather is nice, there's really nothing I love more than walking and catching up so on Saturday mi madre and I took a long walk down the West Side Highway along the water, through SoHo where we spotted my reality celeb BFF Bethany Frankle (celebrites get deemed 'bff' when you see them more than once, according to my logic). Even though my mom has no clue who Bethany is, referring to her as Brittany multiple times later on, seeing someone who is being photgraphed by paparazzi always seems cool and "New York-y." Yes, I am a great tour guide.

After that we walked down a street fair and then on through the Union Square Greenmarket, which has become one of my favorite Saturday traditions. In all seasons it is just beautiful, but fall is to die for.

On Sunday after our stay-at-home brunch we met up with my science experiment neighbors to cheer on our lovely friend Nicki in the NYC marathon. I don't know what I've been doing the past two years, but I've somehow missed the entire production. I'm so glad we managed to see her at the 18 mile mark and again around mile 23. Spoiler alert: cheering is more fun than running, according to my knees.


Night activities

Casual nights catching up over board games and beers at Common Ground in the East Village is a great way to start a trip. (Although I might have had more fun if I actually won.)

Since my mom and I both have short attention spans I figured the hour long show Fuerza Bruta, a very interactive/interesting experience in Union Square, would be a fun Saturday night. FYI, if you're visiting NYC or in the city and want to go, I highly suggest getting "rush" tickets two hours before the performance. For $25 it's totally worth it. $75? Not so much.

On my aforementioned list of things I've wanted to do, Sunday night we went to see the long-running improv show ASSSCAT 3000 at UCB Theater. It was hosted by two semi famous comedians and featured two regulars on 30 Rock. If you're keeping track, I've now seen and/or met five people from the show. (Any day now, Tina and Alec, any day.)

Monday night I had bought us tickets for a launch part for Jessica Seinfeld's new cookbook through Gilt City (an off-shoot of Gilt Group which I would recommend signing up for if you live in NYC). Jessica, wife of Jerry, sneaks veggies into tons o' recipes and, because I'm a weirdo who thinks I need to know how to cook for children even though I have nothing in my life, I was super excited. Plus I was hoping and praying that You Know Who might show up. To say I'm a Seinfeld enthusiast is an understatement.

And - drum roll please - he did! And I screamed "OMG MY LIFE IS COMPLETE!!!" loud enough for strangers to hear me. Awk-ward. And yet perfectly amazing.



All in all, it was the perfect trip! Here's a few photos:



"Little Girl, Big Apple" is the title of this shot,
according to the photographer.



Elle, former (not really, just on hiatus) blogger for Do You Fancy Us, stopped by

so my mom could "put a face to the blog"



Just two cool gals hanging out at an exclusive party with celebreties, per usual.



Who can resist such a good photo op?



Part of my neighborhood photoshoot. Yes,

these are the activities I think are fun. Please note

my vintage mink coat. I am very fancy.

Fuerza Bruta. They let you take pictures which is half the fun.



And they should probably put me in the show.

I Don't...

Seriously, could I have found a better, more feeling sorry
for myself picture?

Today I don't believe in finding love. I don't believe in soul mates. And I don't believe in happy endings. (In the fairytale sense, not the other sense, because those do exist in Asian massage places all over the city. I mean, so I've been told. I promise I don't know first hand. Ew, bad pun.)

Things I do believe in:

• Bad karma
• Disappointment
• Rejection
• Unmet expectations
• Loneliness

Welcome to my Monday. In other news, I am PMSing like a crazy person so perhaps that could be an underlying motivation for the most melodramatic blog post of all time.

(And, yes, this post deserves any forthcoming lecture from my mom or The BFF on the wonderfulness of my life. I know, I know, it will be okay.)

P dot S: I still owe a recap of my mom's awesome trip to visit me, I promise it will be more uplifting than this nonsense.

And How Are You Tonight?

So I was all set to come home from my favorite Thursday night tradition of Anti-Gravity Yoga, cook some dinner, and blog about my mom's fantastic trip to visit me last weekend, but then I realized my DVR is more important than you. TV is actually my favorite thing in life ... well, besides food. Yeah, there I said it. But hopefully someday I might get real things to focus on like love or a family, but for now I have NBC and I'm totally fine with that.

In case you're as TV-judgy as me, here's a recap of my weekly shows just so you can decide whether or not we might be friends in real life:

30 Rock, Modern Family, How I Met Your Mother, Gossip Girl, Community, The Office, and Mad Men (I miss you, Don!). In terms of reality TV, it depends what's on the air, but currently I'm watching MTV's Cut Throat Challenge (I'm real live friends with Laurel!! She dominates in case you haven't seen it so you should check it out) and Keeping up with the Kardashians (I will literally die if I run into any of them while they film their next season in NYC).

Oh and Food Network is our third roommate.

Okay so do I have a point to any of this? Nah not really. I just really wanted to feel less guilty about spending the next three hours gloriously sprawled out in front of my TV, drinking wine, and packing for my fun weekend in Philly with Ashley.

And in honor of me turning on my favorite show 30 Rock, here are three glorious things I've found this week:

Jack Donaghy's Life Lessons: 16 Pearls Of Wisdom You Can't Live Without


{Thanks to S for sending me this (who is herself a grad student so therefore the worst ;)}

Fifteen things you didn't know about Tracy Morgan
(Who doesn't love TJ?)


{Thanks to my cousin Alicia for sending me this. If I could meet one person in New York, it would be Tina. And if I could meet her and not pee my pants or lick her face or anything else on that level of unretractable awkwardness, that would be icing on the cake.)

P dot S: Not really related, but one freakin' day after I blog about the horrible, unforgivable awkwardness that is Facebook Poking, the guy I met on Halloween (Kenneth The Page) who I've gone out with a few times did it. Shudder. Is there no decency left in the world?

There Is Nothing More Awkward...

...Than accidentally "poking" someone on Facebook. And by someone I mean a cute guy you might be "researching" (by researching, yeah I mean stalking, fine you caught me).

Sorry I'm an aggressive clicker. Now you're telling me there's no way to retract?? Of all the features you can "undo" why isn't this one of them? Yeah, okay fine you asked me if I was "sure" about wanting to commit the most unforgivable of all Facebook abuses, but clearly I am too busy to read those notices.

Oy.

And I don't think sending a follow-up message highlighting that I was just trying to stalk his (super cute) new profile picture but instead accidentally under-clicked on the most ahhhhwkward feature on Facebook makes it any better.

Does it?

P dot S: The runners-up for Most Awkward Facebook Behavior include:

- Accidentally "liking" someone you aren't actually friends with in real life's Facebook statuses, especially if it's something like "Susie McGotFatAfterMarriage is having a horrible day and can't fit into her pants"

- Typing someone's name into your status update instead of the search bar (it's way too easy to do on this on mobile FB applications)

The only reason unintentional (or intentional) poking wins is because dear God what were you thinking when you invented this, Mark Zuckerberg? I haven't yet seen The Social Network, but maybe they show him strung out on drugs or following through with some dare when he comes up with the idea?

P dot S Part II: There's an entire Tumblr devoted to Awkward Facebook. Hello time-waster of the day.

You Know?

When life is just too much fun and/or exhausting to sit down to write a real blog post? No, you don't? Well it's sort of a great feeling. Because it means that maybe you've done something besides sit around in my sweatpants for 48 straight hours. (Not that there's anything wrong with that...)

But then you feel guilty. Because what if someone is bored at work and stops by your blog for some entertainment and you're all, Dude, my mom has been in town since Friday and there has just been no time. Go, Go, Go. Otherwise known as me right now. But a recap will come soon enough. It involves celebrities. And eating. My faves. Yes, I am a name-dropping fatass, but that's why we're friends, right?

P dot S: I've finally accepted that it is in fact jacket weather. Ugh. Busted out my long peacoat. Gross. But it's also Dunkin' Donuts Pumpkin Coffee weather. So I'll take it.

Match.Mom Success Story: Engagement Edition

Two years ago this week, 2008 Election Night to be precise, I hung out in New York with my friend Lauren discussing our favorite topic: boys. And, you know, politics. So it's only fitting that things have come full circle around election time again.

A few weeks later, she headed back to Austin to finish her degree, we went on the best trip ever, and then she moved to Houston to start a new job selling tween baby T's (or something to that effect, let's just say it was no Bergdorf's, her NYC employer...).

Not long after she got to H-Town, Lauren went to a family friend's engagement party where she met her parent's neighbor. The woman asked if Lauren was single and informed her that she was "shopping for a girlfriend for her son." Lauren told her "yes, completely" and turned on her patented charm.

The happy, photogenic couple. Mazel tov, yall.

Soon after, Lauren and Thomas started dating. From the start it was serious, as you can read in her Guest Blog Post recapping the Match.Mom success.

But then he got transferred to Tulsa. Hmm. What to do, what to do? Well, the thing that I love about Lauren is that although she's incredibly smart and well-grounded, but she totally trusts her gut.

And so she followed a boy she was sure was The One to Oklahoma (not an easy state to venture to if you're a die-hard Longhorn, I assure you).

[Not really a part of the story at hand, but Lauren also got a puppy around this time. I'm only mentioning this to build up the jealousy stakes.]

People might have thought it was too soon, too far, too uncertain. But she followed her heart.

Now she's engaged. And has a dog.

What do you have? You're health maybe? That's cool.

Moral of the story: Believe in love. Be flexible for the guy of your dreams. Buy a puppy. And maybe hear your mom out when she tells you she's got a great guy she wants you to meet.


P dot S: Lauren, aren't you glad you spent your time two years ago creating your wedding invite list? That CGS will totally pay off, what a time saver! I just hope you haven't made too many new friends since then...

This is the actual ring, not an ad. Stunning, right?
[Insert jealous comment here.]

It Finally Happened...

No, I didn't get a puppy. Or win the lottery. Or anything else remotely exciting.

But a guy did give me his business card as I waited for the subway after work. Unfortunately he wasn't my type (read: not cute...not even remotely...IAAB), so when he gave me the polite out by asking if I had a boyfriend, I totally took it. Ahh the speed and agility of which I grabbed hold of that fictitious relationship excuse - especially from the girl who always feels awkward saying she's off the market when she actually is - was impressive. And probably totally transparently fake. Oh well. He asked.

After I politely walked away toward the train that had just arrived, he followed me to ask if he could ask me another question. Asking "Can I ask you something else?" is annoying. Asking "Any chance you'll break up with your (fictitious) boyfriend any time soon?" is more annoying. "Me and Fictitious Boyfriend are very happy," I assured him. Otherwise known as "I Already Rejected You Once, This Is Becoming Uncomfortable."

Anyway, that didn't stop him from insisting I take his business card, which informed me that he's on the legal team for my office building. Hooray for potential awkward encounters in the future!

The weirdest part, though, was the fact that I looked horrible. I don't mean that in a self-deprecating "Aw gosh darn I don't look my prettiest" way, I mean it in a "Break-out-blemish-dry-skin-combo-and-maybe-try-taking-a-shower-so-you-don't-look-like-a-homeless-person" way.

Then it all made sense. It has nothing to do with me. It's the The Universe, it is whack. My dating mojo has returned, and I've somehow shot to the top of the Singles Bell Curve.

The attention has been a nice incentive to keep faith that maybe I won't die alone (and will hopefully make my mom feel comfortable sending me family member's wedding websites whereas last week she worried she might be "provoking" my CMS...).

So, although I rejected Lawyer McTooManyQuestion-Asker, I did accept a date with a guy I met on Halloween who was dressed like Kenneth The Page. (Mostly because I'm obsessed with 30 Rock.) But also I figured I might as well make the most of the fleeting attention.

So tonight I drink wine in Gramercy. And the rest of winter I sit at home, hibernating in my sweatpants, and wait for my prince charming. I think that is a fair compromise.

(I know, I know, I better do some other stuff because otherwise this blog will get uber boring, and no one wants that! Especially the girl who has to write the boring posts.)

I Heart Halloween: 2010 Edition

I've always loved Halloween. It's an opportunity to be crafty and clever, two of my favorite things. So when the final days of October were slipping through my fingers and I hadn't come up with a costume idea, I was distraught. Yeah, first-world problems.

In my closet I stumbled across a random yellow dress I'd bought months ago at Forever 21 because it was only $12. Who knew when I'd ever wear this puffy sleeved, sunshine monstrosity, but you know, since it was so cheap, why not. This mindset drives The BFF insane. Spend money to save money. "You're still spending money?!"

Anyway, because I'm allergic to buying costumes, I figured this was the perfect opportunity to transform the dress. Slap on some black stripes and I'd have myself a bee outfit. 

After work one day, I stopped by Ricky's Halloween Super Store for some bee-autiful accessories, including awesome giant yellow sunglasses, which turned out to be my favorite part of the costume. Bee-ware, though, when you try to save money by making your own costume, you always spend more. But I guess it works out since I save so much money other times. (Yes, my world is full of ridiculous justifications. It's part of my charm.)


I still wasn't satisfied, though. A bumble bee is boring. I'm better than that. You might say I was bee-side myself.


A Mensa candidate in all her duct tape glory.

Then at 3pm on Friday afternoon it hit me: Spelling Bee. You're right, genius.



All I needed were some letters, and luckily the Craft Gods were smiling down on me that day. At my local drug store I found foam letters with sticky backs, exactly what I needed. It was meant to bee. (Last pun, I promise. Maybe.)

My Spelling Bee costume (inexplicably) received more attention than even my infamous Slutty Lobster costume from a few years ago. Two-dates-scheduled-for-this-week's worth of attention. (Even if some people thought I was alphabet soup.)


The festivities started on Friday night at a party at Carnival (the weirdest place ever but so perfect for Halloween) with the girls from last weekend's horse race, and continued on until Sunday. Only when I thought I was dying from strep throat (turns out to just be a cold) did I slow down.

A great weekend of fall merriment. And according to all the retail stores in New York, tomorrow is Christmas. I love this time of year! Until January comes around and I realize I hate cold weather.


Here are some well-bee-haved pictures from the weekend:
(I lied, there was one more up my sleeve!!)

All but one are Texans.
Pretty good representation, I must say.



I even made a new friend. Who lives in my 'hood.
And is familiar with Kennedy's. Perfection.





Keep in mind when you're choosing a costume next year that
"It's meee, Marioooooooo" is a fun thing to repeatedly scream all night.



I'm not sure at what point we got glowsticks,
but obviously it means it was a successful night.

Hope everyone else had a great weekend too!