Miracle Above Allen

Exhibit A

More updates about my second annual Memorial Day Staycation later, but to tide you over, I figured I should share with you the most embarrassing story ever. Because you might be fighting the post-vacay blues and need something to cheer up your spirits, and obviously I love to help others.

So there I was at one point this weekend, in the bathroom, a line of unruly patrons banging on the door behind me, handcuffed to my underwear.

Okay, maybe it would help the story for me to set the stage.

Last weekend while Cabs was here (ha, just like Pauldy D's "cabs ah' here!"), we were shopping uptown, and I decided to treat myself to a cute new bracelet from Bendel's. Since then, I've been wearing it quite a bit, including on Saturday night when I went to dinner with Keaton and two of her high school friends. Following our meal [Random aside: Our waitress was all, "I have a mermaid tattoo because I love nautical things!" and of course I was intrigued cause I too am a fan of the sea, but wow was I disappointed when she turned around to show us that she literally had a tattoo of "M-E-R-M-A-I-D" on her shoulder - yes, really - and no I'm not sure if that was a misunderstanding with her tat artist], we headed to Above Allen to enjoy the view. And some dranks.

Per usual, I had to pee. Cut to me in the bathroom, a solo venue, and all of a sudden - like a magician - I find my bracelet completely hooked onto my underwear. I know what you're thinking, please don't tell me any more about this predicament. This isn't Bridesmaids, stop pandering to your (very small) male audience by incorporating bathroom humor. But I can't help it! Like I said, it was magic. And it's scientifically proven that both sexes like magic!

Okay where was I? Literally, for the life of me, I could not get myself unhooked. (Motor skills not functioning at peak performance aside, the clasp is really tricky!)

Thought process: Hmm, what to do what to do? Unclasp, unclasp, unclasp! One hundred thousandth times a charm, right? Wrong! Oh so very wrong! What is wrong with me? I mean, not as a person, we can deal with that later, but in this situation, what kind of girl finds herself handcuffed to her underpants?! A moron! An idiot! You'll never amount to anything! Stop self-loathing, save that for another day. How can you get yourself out of this? Well, I could take off my underwear, but then they would be attached to my wrist. But maybe once I'm holding my underwear, I can unhook it! 

Attempt to unhook bracelet while holding underwear. Fail miserably. Start to panic.


Well crap. Maybe underwear corsages are the new thing? I mean, luckily I'm wearing a pair that sort of goes with my dress? It's prom season!? No one will think twice about it!

Bang. Bang. Bang. 

Hurry up, Rachel, you idiot. Give up the dream. Hanky Panky Corsages are never going to fool people. Stop trying to make 'fetch' happen! What other options do I have? People might start to think you died in here! But I don't want to die in here! Get off the bracelet. Take it off. Now. If it breaks, it'll be equal to the money you wasted on Match.com! God, that was the worst. Why do I always waste money on the dumbest things? Except this bracelet. Crap, I love this bracelet. 

Bang. Bang. Bang. 

And so I did what I had to do. I channeled some 'skinny wrist' thoughts as I contorted my hand and slipped it off. The bracelet didn't break. It was a miracle.

And that, friends, is what we call a successful night out. 


So, how was your Memorial Day?

Deep Thoughts to Get You Through the Weekend

Of course he's taken.

While I wait for my friend's (very) delayed arrival - grrrrrrrrr air travel issues - I've decided to write down some recent pressing thoughts. Mostly about guys. Very thoughtful. You're welcome.

Based on my observations, every guy in New York over six feet tall with a full head of hair is in a relationship. If the hair is styled in a side-swooped manner, he's definitely married. Move on and lower your standards.

So where can you meet cute guys?

Well, I'm totally convinced there's some sort of conspiracy going on at my gym where they only hire hot trainers to torture me. I'm too poor to give in yet I haven't met any guys lately? And I'm fat? Thanks for this moral dilemma, Crunch.

He just seems so nice and normal, right?

And that leaves me with what options? Awkward regression to having celebrity crushes. The last person I knew who used the words "celebrity crush" was my old psychoface roommate Ruby who thought she was dating Robert Pattinson. Oy. But after watching Forgetting Sarah Marshall the other day for the 1,000,000 time on FX (which I really need to stop doing because the dubbing is so annoying..."you rascal"), I've decided that Jason Segel might be my soulmate.

Technically, though, Jason is only my celebrity crush based on personality. If we're going on looks, then it's NBC Nightly News anchor Brian Williams. Cause, duh, hottie. So really, I think this is all totally fine.

Situation under control.

Seriously, where are you Keaton? This smorgsboard of turkey meatballs and guacamole isn't going to eat ALL of itself. (I have no idea how I came up with that combo for snacks. But I totally think that someday a nice guy with side-swooped hair...Bry Wy??... would appreciate it.)

I think we can agree this is the best pic. Ever.

I Love Technology

I mentioned yesterday about how I've had a second run-in with a random guy I met years ago. He walked by me and The BFF, did a double-back and came right up to us, armed with our names and memory of the night we met. Impressive.

It must have been almost two years ago, one of those nights where you figure I am young, why the hell not go out on a school night, and end up finding yourself in the most ridiculous adventure ever. That specific adventure, in this instance, was befriending two Foreign FJOs (normally a red flag!) at Bagatelle, being invited downstairs to the "secret" bar followed by another "secret" passage to Kiss & Fly. (Note: I was going to link to the club's website, but it's really the worst thing ever. Unless you're into lesbian butterfly cartoons, no I'm not joking, watch at your own risk.)

Why am I smirking so awkwardly?
Seriously, what is wrong with my face?
He's kinda cute, though, right?

Anyway, where was I? Oh, so if there is one thing I love, it's going to Exclusive Places. And free drinks. And cute (European) guys. Triple crown of fun.

But that alone wouldn't have necessarily solidified his memory of me or mine of him. What makes me remember not forget him is the fact we're Facebook friends. Every once in awhile his name will roll down my newsfeed and I always ask myself who the hell is Maximilian? 

Unlike so many times when you cross paths with someone and they float away forever, Max and I are tethered together by technology. He's by no means in my life, but sort of like adjacent to it.

And that's part of why I've come to appreciate Facebook as a visual Rolodex of friends, people I've met during the past few years, and those with whom I once shared high school Spanish.

I totally get if maybe you're one of those people who constantly whittles down their number of friends. I understand keepin' it real on the Internet. (The BFF has great criteria for doing this, with my favorite factor "being white trash".)

But considering how lazy I can be about networking, social media has made it easy to expand your sphere. And if there's anything I love more than exclusive places/free drinks/cute (European) guys, it's food convenience. And you never know when you'll need a random Austrian guy to hit up for European travel tips. Thanks in advance, Max.

P dot S I: Here's a great blog dedicated to the subject of Techromance.

P dot S II: Speaking of technologoical love, the most "awkward turtle" line from a college rush party courtesy of my friend Keaton (who is coming to visit in one day!)..."I love technology."

Bwahahahahaha.

Instead

False advertising:
Go ahead and picture us looking this hot on our walk tonight.

Instead of writing another story about this past weekend, tonight I agreed to go on a walk in the warm weather with The BFF. Don't worry, I'll fill you in later on what a small world New York is and my second random Facebook friend run-in. (This time an Austrian guy I met years ago with The BFF on a crazy fun night at Bagatelle.)

Lately it has seemed like we've been saying 'no' to each other's requests due to different schedules/priorities/ etc, but I think it's starting to sink in that we only have a few weeks left together before who knows how long. Months and months. We've never done that before. [Insert ugly, crying, co-dependent face here.]

So instead of blogging, I accepted her offer to spend time together and soak up the warm weather. We had a nice walk. Did I mention how warm it was? This is what spring is all about. It was nice knowing you. All two days of you, spring.

And there was no better way to do it than a nice walk around a former drug-addicted homeless hangout (Tompkin's Square park). Oh New York, you've been wonderful. [Insert new anxiety about leaving the city.]

I promise to come up with some far more interesting stories tomorrow. Thanks for indulging me.

The New York Experience

Reunited and it feels so good.

Two years ago one of my best (and only) guy friends Cabs - also known as My Husband - abandoned our awesome lives in New York to move back to Texas. We have had quite a few hi-jinx over the years, including the last time he was here and served as the witness to our now broken Kennedy's contract.  So when he agreed to come up here for the annual Texas Chili Cook-off, I knew it was going to be a great weekend.

He arrived on Friday and we met up after I got off work at the Standard Bier Garten. Since it is a mixture of college throw-back (aka the time when Cabs and I became friends) and snobby New York douchery, I knew he would like it. Plus in preparation for my German departure, any time I can surround myself with Hefeweizen and pretzels I feel like it will help me more easily assimilate when I get there. Or something.

You always remember your first time. 

After a few beers but before we headed to dinner, The BFF convinced us we should go upstairs to the Boom Boom Room, one of the most "exclusive" places in NYC. That is, after 10pm. Before then, they let in the regular normal ugly people. Good thing we were out early.

While we admired the amazing view, Cabs lived up to his Daddy Warbucks nickname I bestowed on him during college (he had a job just to pay for his bar tabs) and treated us to delicious cocktails. Thank you!!

Victory is mine.

Since choosing a restaurant for dinner can sometimes be the hardest decision ever, we took it as fate when Cabs and The BFF both separately mentioned a desire to go to Bar Pitti in the West Village for Italian. It did not disappoint. In case you ever go, I should mention that I ordered the most amazing pasta ever - Pappardelle Alla Fiesolana - helping me to "win" the meal. (For awhile I've been thinking about starting a food blog called "I Won That Meal" where everyone at the table judges each other's dishes. Who doesn't love competitive eating?)

Picture perfect.

We made sure to get a good night's sleep because Saturday required our A Game at the Lonestar Chili Cookoff. In order to start it off right, two friends hosted an amazing breakfast taco pre-party beforehand. Con QUESO. Yes, amazing. The BFF's Connecticut-born bf was all "Wait, you put eggs in tortillas?!" and I was all "Dude have you not lived yet?"  From there we headed to a roof top overlooking the Empire State Building with 1,000 of our closest friends.

Hooray friends in town!

Luckily on Saturday Mother Nature must have been feeling generous (unlike her normal hateful bitch self) and provided the most amazing weather we've seen in weeks. Sunny, blue skies, and seventy degrees. Almost hot. It was perfection. 

After four hours of catching up with old friends and telling everyone the story about how my dad was rejected from 230 Fifth (the rooftop where the event was held) for wearing shorts (possibly of the denim cargo variety, judge away) when I tried to take him for happy hour, it was time for us to leave. And obviously for a snack. (I somehow managed to only try two chilis the entire time!) We stopped by the food stands at Madison Square Park (Kate from Embarrassment of Riches wrote about it last week), and I decided I just had to finally try Roberta's pizza. And I had to have it right that minute. Because of my super impatient tendencies compounded by an afternoon of drinking Amstel Lights, I harassed the poor guy working into giving me some other girl's order who had stepped away for a minute. From now on, if anyone asks, I'm Jamie C.

Gal pals.

We had the goal of turning the weekend into an adult "Roundup" (for those of you non Longhorns, that is a notoriously intense Spring party weekend that involves around the clock activities). But we're old. And we took a five hour nap instead.

The ever popular Lychee martini and some friends.

Struggling to fight the lethargy once we finally woke up, we pulled ourselves together and had a great Thai dinner at one of my fave places Spice. (Order the Black Noodle, you'll thank me.)

Much of the dinner revolved around discussing lychees. "Is it a nut?!" "It looks like an eyeball!" "It's good, but not like in yo' face." "Well, except if it were an eyeball, then it'd be in your face. Literally." "Lychee: Looks like an eyeball but not in yo' face flavor." Slogan. Done. Call me Don Draper.

Continuing on with our quest to solve world problems, we put in one more attempt to rally. And on our way to meet up with some friends at Bowery Bar, a homeless person told Cabs to "keep his prostitute on a leash" when our friend accidentally bumped into him(/her?). "That's going to be the quote of the trip!" we all thought.

Until we got to the bar. And a guy who looked just like the dean from Community (i.e. skinny, bald, creepy looking dude) said to me, "You look like you're either trying to get the bartender's attention or you're deciding whether to order me off the menu. I'm having trouble reading your signs."

And that's when we realized it was probably time to call it a day. And that maybe we found a new quote.

On Sunday, to round out the trip, we concluded with a typical Day of Fun. Dos Caminos brunch, shopping trip for Hermes ties at Bergdorffs, and cupcakes. If only it ended with us at Red Lobster it would have been perfect (true story, that happened once, inspired by Cabs' purchase of a needle-point lobster Smathers and Branson belt; it was amazing).

See, friends, coming to visit me is totally worth it. If nothing else, it will be quite an experience.

Miss you already, Cabs. Please come back ASAP.

The Perfect Date

Last night I went on a great date. But, Rach, haven't you learned that blogging about recent dates is a sure fire way to ruin your chances? Oh right, I guess I should mention that it was with girls. Who are fully aware and accepting of the blog. So ha, no repercussions there, suckers.

Anyway, if you want an idea for a fun date, here's what you should do: Go to Brooklyn Bowl. Order fried chicken. But, Rach, don't you live above a really awesome fried chicken establishment? Why wouldn't you just go there?? First of all, Kennedy's is only for late night. Everyone know thats. Second, that Blue Ribbon chicken is unbelievable.

Another key part of Brooklyn Bowl's awesomeoness is the fact it has built-in entertainment. Although I've never actually bowled there (on my new summer bucket list) you can do that or, on certain nights, you can see a great show.

Wednesday night my friends and I saw Robert Randolph and the Family Band, one of my favorite performers. Before I left work, my manager asked if I was a 'groupie.' Maybe is my answer. I was introduced to them at the second Austin City Limits Music Festival, which is about to celebrate its 10th anniversary in September. I've seen them there a few other times, once or twice at Stubbs (greatest place ever; not just saying that because my mom's cousin is a founder), and even up in NYC.

Robert brings it. This does not do him justice.

Although they went on 45 minutes late and this grandma had to go home to bed after the first set, it was a great show. Especially when the singer and bass player from OAR joined as special guests. College, I miss you. While everyone predicted a little Crazy Game of Poker, instead they did two Led Zeppelin covers, one of which was D'yer Mak'er, my #3 fav Zeppelin song. I tell you these things only because I know you care you are my captive audience.

Anyway, great food, great music, and great company. That's all you need for the perfect date. What can I say, I'm a simple girl. 

Oh, btw I totally forgot to tell you who I brushed shoulders with at the reception for the Obie Awards (off-Broadway "Tonys") on Monday. Steve Martin. I know, what are the odds! I guess that's what happens when you run in the same social circles.

Like I said, simple girl.

Guide to Germeny

This is an actual PowerPoint slide used at our quarterly
internal strategy meeting we had this week. Why yes,
I am holding a candy cane in that picture... 

Two days before I left town for Austin, my manager scheduled a late afternoon meeting with me. Nothing unusual, until she wanted to meet in the president’s office to sit down at his table and chairs. Door shut. Uh oh.

“So how would you feel about 'moving' to Berlin?”

Um excuse me?

A month or two before, a client who I work closely with, asked how I would feel about coming to Europe this summer to help out on-site. Duh. Summer vacation.

I never thought anything would come from it, definitely never imagining words like “three to six months” and “Germany” would be thrown around about my future. But I’ve been antsy for a new adventure, enough so that multiple friends expressed concern that upon my return from Austin I would announce my plans to move back there.

Well I totally tricked you. Bwahah. Berlin, baby.

I’ve always harbored a secret, dormant dream to live abroad. Having only "backpacked" around Europe for a month, I wished to have an opportunity to experience it fo’ real. And in terms of life timing, it’s great. I have no real responsibilities like a dog (someday!). And there’s no boyfriend to miss (someday?). 

But of course I had some initial hesitations:

•           My friends! I love my friends!
•           It’s summer! I love summer! How can I miss all the fun!
•           How will I work out? I’m going to be so fat! Like if I were on the Bachelor!
•           I don’t speak any German!
•           The blog! What will I call it?

Then it came to me. Guide to Ger-MEN-y. Done. Phew. Everything’s under control.

I kept the secret for a whole day and a half until I had both of my parents’ in-person attention. I was positive my mother’s reaction was going to be “OMG YOU’RE GOING TO FALL IN LOVE WITH A GERMAN AND NEVER COME HOME” because that is her favorite fear about me living in New York. Both, however, were incredibly supportive, recognizing it’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Plus when you start off with that "Mom, dad, I have something to tell you" Talk and it doesn't end with "You're going to be grandparents" they have to be happy.

But as easy as it is to say yes to the offer, now I’m just trying to stave off any major panic attacks or nervous breakdowns. The good thing is that I’m not going until late July/early August (although, new fear: OMG I’ll be alone on my birthday, wahhhh) so at least I have the next two months to soak up summer in the city. Can't wait for Big Apple BBQ Fest, Governors Ball music fest with Girl Talk, outdoor movies in the park, beach weekends, summer intern cougarbait, and all day patio brunches. You know, if it every stops raining, that is.

The only sad point is that The BFF and I will be like two ships passing in the night since she'll be returning from Lebanon days after I leave. Although it's exciting we’ll both be embarking on our own solo journeys (first time ever), it also makes me teary that I won't see her for months. Who will tell me my jokes aren’t funny? Who will keep me company in high level discussions about reality TV? 

Luckily the good news is we found someone to take her room in mid-June. We met her last Friday and both immediately really liked her. (The BFF’s opinion was the only one that counted because I usually like most people when I meet them in these situations, including our former terrible roommates whereas she’s more discerning.) While no one can replace The BFF, I am excited to have a new friend.

Speaking of friends, now is your window to come visit me before I leave. Or in Germany. Take yo' pick. Either way, I will be the one wearing lederhosen.

It's a Girl Thing That Guys Can Appreciate

All smiles at the bar later that night. 

On Saturday morning we waited for brunch. For two hours. I was on particularly good waiting behavior, considering I did not once throw my body on the ground in a tantrum, and I limited my complaints to "I vehemently hate whoever is not vacating the only five-top table in the entire restaurant." (If you know me, you should feel a combination of 'shock and awe' considering we all know patience is not my virtue.)

That's what you do, though, when you're a girl celebrating your close friend's birthday. You go to restaurants like Prune knowing that their anti-reservation policy and hole-in-the-wall occupancy might make you its bitch. But for your favorite friends, you'd cross the ocean to celebrate. (Or in the case of Birthday Event #2, cross the East River and head to Brooklyn.)

But it doesn't matter, because I'm a girl, and celebrating with friends is what we do.

On Sunday night when I went see Bridesmaids, I was reminded that putting in effort to make sure your BFF's have fun birthdays is small potatoes compared to weddings.


(As a girl who makes tons of inappropriate jokes, I felt compelled to boost the movie's opening weekend statistics. Not to get all bra-burn-y over here, but female comedies need to prove they have the balls to hang with the big boys. See what I mean, inappropriate!)

Anyway, the movie is hilarious and definitely worth seeing (although maybe 15 minutes too long, but I feel that way about almost all movies). Yes it might be centered around unnecessary drama that seems to get stuck on wedding planning like cat hair on spinsters' house coats, but it's got one thing legitimately appealing to both guys and girls:

Jon Hamm.

I mean sex jokes.

Moral of the story? Take your boyfriend to see the movie. Leave him at home for brunch. It'll make for a great weekend.

Guest Post: Inspirational Match Dot Mom Case Study

[Ed. note: To continue with the Match.mom theme, I asked my friend Lauren to write a little something about her upcoming wedding. Because she's a smart girl who has good insight that might be inspirational to those of us who are so jaded about finding The One. But mostly because I want to show you an awesome friendship montage where Lauren refers to me as being "really cool" and not in a sarcastic way.] 

Match.mom – THE ENGAGEMENT  and a look back.

So much has changed since the last time I contributed to Rachel’s blog. Last year, I wrote a post highlighting the merits of letting your parents play matchmaker. At the time I was at the height of a romance with Thomas – a relationship that began because his mom set us up after our parents became neighbors. Little did I know huge changes and tough decisions were just around the corner. First of all, my boyfriend got transferred to Tulsa for his job, and I quit my awesome (paying) job in Houston to move with him. With that, came renting a house together, buying furniture together, getting a new job, and co-parenting his dog Abbey and my new puppy Eleanor. Needless to say, last May brought big changes to my life.

I would like to mention that I am not a huge proponent of doing a massive upheaval of your life for a guy you’ve only dated 6 six months. And neither are my parents. But before I committed to the move, I told Thomas, “I am only moving to Tulsa if we both agree that we will be getting engaged within a year of me moving there.” And to completely get everything out on the table, I added, “from the second I move there, every single day until we are engaged, I will have a nagging insecurity in the back of my mind that there’s a chance we won’t end up together and I will look like a huge chump for moving. So if you wait around, I will probably start acting crazy.” Luckily, this revealing moment was met with love and reassurance, so I quit my job and adopted Eleanor, my beautiful Australian shepherd. Fast forward six months, and Thomas proposed on our front porch on November 1, 2010, after dating for 387 days.

To any twenty-something girl reading this blog, please consider me to be exactly like you. I have had some really good relationships that ended badly, and some awful relationships that ended terribly. I have been in love multiple times, and had my heart broken a couple. I have casually dated countless guys that I knew were bad news from the beginning, but stuck around because I liked the attention or just wanted someone to fall back on. I have first date horror stories. I have made bad decisions that I knew were bad decisions as I was making them. I once literally said out loud (while crying on the phone to my mom), “I’m going to be alone forever!” So by the time I was 24, I had lived out every single bad dating cliché and nearly became one myself.

I just want you to take that in to consideration if you’re single and wanting a serious or meaningful relationship. There is nothing about me that made me more likely to marry the man of my dreams. I’m not super sweet, overly religious, abnormally beautiful, or anything else that tricks guys into fast proposals. The only thing that worked in my favor was deciding that I would only date guys that lived up to what I deserve, and end it with those that didn’t. You can’t marry your dream guy if you date a less-than-dream guy. JUST SAYIN’!

Anyway, on to the second most awesome wedding of 2011… Within two days of our engagement, I had the church and the reception booked. I have always known that I wanted to get married at my childhood summer camp, Camp Balcones Springs, in Marble Falls, Texas. Not only did I go to camp there for five years, but my family has a lake house in Marble Falls, and it really feels like home for me. Plus, the camp has a blob and delicious chicken fingers.

Planning a wedding in Marble Falls is challenging enough when the entire town does not have one single mariachi band, and you have to do your cake tasting in a trailer home. Not to mention, I am trying to do all this from Tulsa. Doubly annoying. Luckily, my mom doesn’t work and I have no problem delegating things for her to do. Just let me say – no matter how creative or crafty you are, hire a wedding planner if you can afford it. It’s kind of too late for me to do that at this point, but I seriously wish there was someone I was paying to be stressed out instead of me. My other piece of advice: do not spend too much time looking at bridal magazines and wedding blogs. They make even the lowest budget, catering hall weddings look 1000 times better than yours will ever be. These blogs, with their selective photography, are the equivalent to airbrushing in fashion magazines. There is no way to compete. But of course, I still am, which is the main source of my stress. Hopefully, it will pay off in the end. And no matter what happens, we’ll be married and that's good, I guess.

One thing I have done that will perhaps make my wedding stand out is the way I have organized my bridal party. We are getting married in a small catholic church, with a very narrow altar. This means, there was no way to physically fit all my awesome best friends up there. So what the groom and I decided is that our bridesmaids and groomsmen would be just family members,  and to make sure everyone knew how much we loved our friends, we have created a group of “Best Friends of Honor.” All the acknowledgement, without the headache and expenses. Everyone wins. This is where I will leave the post for now, and please watch below to see how I asked my pals to be my best friends of honor.

Austin Recap

This is so sweet it makes me
want to puke. In a good way. Obv.

The trip home to Austin was fantastic as expected. It had been four months since I was there for Christmas and my brother’s wedding. Between soaking up time with my parents, brothers, sister-in-law, Dolo, college BFFs, and beloved dog Jesse, it went by way too fast. Because you care about every second of it, here's the recap:

Prom photo style.
It is that time of year. 

Friday evening two of my college BFFs Keaton and Ellen came to dinner at my parents’ house followed by my quasi-date with Match Boy (more on that later because I need to stretch out this trip so I have something to write about!). Although I wish I had more time with my friends, I’m excited that Keaton is coming to visit for a long Memorial Day weekend in a few weeks. Ohhh giiiirl, just you wait.

Saturday was a day of perfection: Maudie’s breakfast tacos, walk at Town Lake (top 5 favorite places on earth), Water for Elephants (my first Robert Pattinson movie ever), happy hour on the boat on Lake Austin, dinner with the fam, and the date with Match Dot Mom Guy (hold your horses). 

Sunday the entire fam all went to church and brunch followed by a perfect day on the lake with my friend Mere and her new boyfriend, who I’d never met. Nothing like evaluating the quality of a friend’s beau like a solid three hour stint in captivity with my family! He passed with flying colors. And even though I’m still selfishly sad that Mere no longer lives a bus ride away, I’m so happy she’s happy. 

Sunday night I had more Maudie’s with my aunt and uncle. It’s not a trip to Austin unless I see them! My aunt has been like a second mother to me and always way too generous. During dinner I finally remembered to let her know that she has given me my most prized possession: A (now paint covered) navy J.Crew hoody. It’s the most ridiculously worn article of clothing I own. And when I put the hood up, I feel very Eight Mile, which is good for my sort of sometimes ghetto neighborhood. I'm sure you're lives are enriched knowing this little fact about my life... 

From there we dropped my dad off at home (we slowed down the car enough it didn’t hurt when we pushed him out the door) and darted off to the movies to see Something Borrowed. Because why not, I was on vacation! My favorite part of this movie was New York, particularly when it lingered on a shot of Spring Lounge, a bar I’ve gone to on a regular basis since I moved to Manhattan over three years ago. Not because it's the best place, although they do have a good draft beer selection, but because it’s always full of guys. Shocking.

Monday I had a now-traditional catch-up lunch with my friend Mary since she went home for Mother’s Day, followed by another catch-up lunch with a family friend, her husband, their two-week-old baby and their 165 pound St. Bernard. Tiny babies plus gigantic dogs equals my version of heaven. Seriously. Amazing.

And before I left town, my mommy took me to Target. Because even though I behaved enough like an adult to pack my own suitcase before I left, let's be honest, I'm still not totally a grown up yet.

(And I plan on milking it for all it's worth.)

Oh, because I don't think this post has reached its dog photo quota yet, here's one more for good measure:

This is his stoic face. 

Match.com vs Match.mom

I mentioned last week that I decided to make the most of the large amount of time I dedicated to filling out the grueling Match profile and go on a date with a guy who emailed me.

We met out on west 6^th street at J.Blacks, me with two of my favorite college gal pals in tow.  Sorry, ladies. There are two ways a guy can handle the friends: He can get them on his side (buying a drink helps) or he can try and steal away your attention. He failed.

The embroidered shirt he was wearing did not help. Nor did the fact it somehow came up that he shaved his chest. Neither are my style. Oh, and small world, he went to school with my older cousin.

The next night I had my date with the guy my mom set me up with. I got a text from her on Thursday giving me a heads up she met a cute guy and passed along my information. He emailed me shortly after. He was far more worried about it than me. I mean, this is what the woman does. Plus my mom is super shallow (“I chose to marry for looks”) so I knew he’d at least be cute.

We met at one of Bachelor Brad’s bars Dogwood. (Speaking of, he used to bar tend with him in college. "He has no personality." I think all of America already knows that.) 

He was late. Personal pet peeve!! Strike one. But he made for it. Taaaalllll, good looking, and oh so easy to talk to. We had a great time, ending the night with the aforementioned late night bite at Magnolia.

Even though Austin is growing a mile a minute, it’s still a small town to me. Going to high school and college there, I always know I’ll run into someone from the past. While I was on the date, I saw a former college roommate (hi!). It was great to run into her, less exciting to run into two guys from high school (friends of the ‘The BFF is a great reader’ guys I saw during the fall).

And I’m 99% positive Match Boy was there too. Because that’s how it is in Austin.

So in the end, Match.mom won out. Because she is more discerning about what I'm looking for shallower. 

Happy Mother's Day to the Best Realtor in Austin

[Ed. note: This post was paid for with 25 years of tolerating me.]

Greetings from my bed in Austin! I'm currently suffering from a massive Magnolia Cafe food hangover (wait, why was Mag Mud and a gingerbread pancake necessary at midnight last night?). Before I spend the day on the lake - I know, be jealous! - I just wanted to give a Mother's Day shout out to my mom and grandma. After I came very close to missing my flight because I'm a moron who sucks at traveling, we have had a great weekend of having fun, what we do best.

And speaking of the best, I wanted anyone in the Austin area - or anyone considering moving to Austin - to know that my mom is an awesome realtor (who will also become your best friend). She'll do whatever it takes to find your dream home or sell your current property. Seriously, I'll call her and she'll be like, "Oh I'm just doing some gardening at this home so it looks better." Talk about dedication.

She just switched to a new company Realty Austin, and we had "take your daughter to work" day on Friday. The company is great; not only do they understand technology, they actually use it in a way that makes sense to me. (Since joining, my mother has transformed into a technology snob, which I find hilarious. Yes, mom, I know what SEO is...)

My grandma on the other hand, while incredibly 'with it' for an 80 year young lady, thought LOL meant 'lots of love' and wrote it on my cousin's birthday package. (This is the precocious 10 year old cousin who offered me some notes on my reading at my brother's wedding. Do you know what LOL means? Uh, laugh out loud, duh. Oh, well I meant something else.)

Anyway, it's been a fantastic trip so far and I'm so glad I could spend time with them both.

LOL,
Rachel

P dot S: Not to be outdone by Match.com, Ol' Match dot Mom fixed me up with a random guy she met through work last week. Obviously I'm not joking. More details to come later...the suspense must be killing you.

Thirty Dollars Later

As it turns out, I actually have quite a few friends on Match (calling it that instead of Match.com sounds a lot cooler, right?). After hearing the pros and cons of it, a few months ago when I was feeling particularly curious (and or lonely), I created a free profile. I'm too lazy to do it for New York because that would require me actually going on dates (the worst!), so I made it for Austin to "test the water" in case my mother gets her way and I move back home. (She would consider that WINNING.)

FYI, just signing up is super time consuming, like it takes forever. Luckily I was smart enough to just steal half the crap in my "about me" tab (blog pays off!) so I sound like as big of a tool as I do on here. Somehow though I kept getting all these email notifications about guys "winking" at me and other nonsense. I guess I chose good pictures? But since I just did the free trial, I couldn't see who they were from or respond to them.

Whatever, plenty of escapades were going on in my real life so I didn't care. Plus the idea of shelling out $30 whole dollars was too much. Even though I can spend $30 in five minutes at Duane Reade or at 3 am on a drink, cab ride and some late night pizza, for some reason $30 on meeting my soulmate was unthinkable.

Until I got a coupon. (The BFF loves to mock my pension for "saving money" because it almost always causes me to spend money that I wouldn't have normally spent.) It literally saved me maybe $5, but it was the incentive I needed. Sort of like any free-shipping offer is all I need to press click. Otherwise that extra money and 5-7 business days will totally kill the mood.

So in my first 24 hours of full-court Matchdom I got TWO emails from guys I know. Seriously, Austin, this is what you have to offer me? The first was a guy from high school a few years older who at one point I briefly had a thing with and the other was a guy from college who I thought was smokin' hot and he felt the opposite about me. Nostalgia. Gross.

After that I didn't do more than open the emails on my phone and judge the thumbnail picture of the guy, and if he sent one, his message. Don't get me wrong, I'm very vain and love nothing more than receiving notes about my beauty. That part is nice. The fact that they were coming from wildebeasts in Buda was not going to fly. As shallow and stuck-up as you might think I am about New York dating, you have no idea about when it comes to Texas. It's unbearable.

Fast forward to a few days ago. I got a message from a guy who passed my automatic height/location/attractiveness check, even getting bonus points for his dog rescue volunteering. I responded and told him I was coming to visit this weekend.

Turns out he's from Austin too, but has spent the past few years in New Orleans and just moved back less than a month ago. He's scheduled to come meet me and some friends out on Friday night. (PS if you're in Austin and want to meet up, let me know!).

We started texting yesterday, and today we're FB friends. Things are moving fast. By the time my flight lands at noon on Friday, my mom will probably have picked out a wedding venue and scheduled me a dress fitting.

You'll all be invited, obviously.

PS: Happy Cinco de Mayo. I haven't celebrate lately, mostly because I was on probation from the holiday, but since I'm flying home early Friday morning, I thought why not, I love self-inflicted hungover air travel! 

Anyway, to get me in the spirit of things, here's two classic pics of me, S, and The BFF from a legen-wait-for-it-dary Cinco de Mayo party in college at my ex's frat. I'm not sure how, but the night ended with me crashing a House of Tutors party in West Campus, stealing some chicken, and winning the M.I.S. business fair. (That story will mean nothing if you did not go to UT, or even if you did. But it was hilarious. Maybe you had to be there?)

Where did we get this dog?

And why on earth does The BFF have a hook? 

A Little Sunshine Goes a Long Way

On Friday night I went to a fun girls dinner at San Marzano, a spot in the LES that has a $30 all you can eat pizza/drink wine pre fixe. Not nearly as rowdy as the Sushi Kumo experience, but it was still great. Three words: truffle oil pizza. Mmm.

We were also celebrating one of my fave gal pals M's new job. (M is a former sorority girl from a big Southern school too, and when she told me the news, the Woo Girl celebration was a bit much for the tiny restaurant. Oh well.)

Unfortunately, as much as we wanted to have a crazy night with the girls, we were both fighting the Fadeout Fear. M does not tolerate that BS, and she reminds me that I shouldn't either. Downing wine when you're antsy and annoyed has a tendency to propel you toward some closure. Two text messages later, we were both done.

Now that The BFF is coupled up, M has turned into my go to wingman . Not only is she pretty and fun (pre-recs), but she's the most over-achieving dater I've ever met. Seriously, just hearing about her social life exhausts me. That being said, I'm hoping some of her dating ambition will rub off on me.

Especially considering we're embarking on the greatest time of the year: Pre-Summer. Pre-Summer is the time when it warms up to sundress and Frying Pan weather before everyone heads out of the city each weekend. Basically May 1 through Memorial Day. Much like all those years growing up, we're waiting for school to be out. Except now we have jobs that don't end just because warm outside. (Depressing.)

This fleeting time is perfect for roof top happy hours (and hopefully building up the roster), but even the simple things like leaves and flowers, puppies and babies, sunshine and blue sky make everything better. Sometimes you just have to surround yourself with that and then the world seems a little happier.

I didn't take this pic because I'm lazy, but this is literally
the corner of the park where we were. Google is magic.

And that's exactly what we did on Sunday. After M and I had (brunch and) 16 Handles, we laid in the grass in Tompkins Square park listening to random live music. (I also talked about how 20 years ago we never would have been there because that park was known for being full of heroin shooting homeless people. Thanks, gentrification, for making our time there possible.)

Maybe it was the inner Austin hippie in me, but that's just what I needed to salvage the first Pre-Summer weekend. And the fro-yo helped. That was a good call.

P dot S: M shared this with me yesterday, it's great: Open Letter to the Men I've Casually Dated

At Least I Know It's Not My Cooking

I get asked about how writing this blog affects my dating life. Short story: It has not gone well lately. On Thursday I had my first 'that isn't my style' lecture from Red Flag Guy. Whatever.

Then on Friday TK was being shady. I called him out on it and was left with a "Read the blog this week..." text about how he didn't think he could handle it. I responded, "Fair enough. Glad to know it wasn't my cooking." Nothing back. [Insert mental I Told You So here.]

In hindsight, maybe I should have implored more caution when writing about the first guy with potential that I've met lately. But at the same time, I'm sorry I'm not sorry.

I'm of the belief that you might as well know what you're getting into with me, and the blog is a concentrated version of real life Rachel. Sometimes I do, write, and say awkward things. Sometimes I'm funny. Sometimes I'm insightful. Sometimes I'm crazy. I can be a handful. I have a big personality. All of this can be good. And all of this can cause problems. So basically, if you can't handle the blog, then you probably can't handle the real thing. And there's nothing wrong with realizing this sooner rather than later. I am impatient; I do not like to waste my time.

(Random note, but is it just me, or have you always wondered how it worked with Carrie's column in Sex and the City? Did guys read it and think she was insane? Because some of her articles were crazy...crazier than my posts!)

Casual dating with the blog is the hardest part. When I had a serious boyfriend, I had a better filter about what was bloggable and what was not. I took his feelings into consideration, and I asked permission about topics I knew he would have an issue with. (Like the time totally out of the blue when he told me that "if we had kids, they would be raised Jewish." Um, excuse me? Peter Pan thinks about procreating? Has hell frozen over? If so, can we go ice skating?)

So if I can find a guy willing to survive the initial gauntlet, then I believe I'll be able to have my cake and eat it too. (I mean, I'm obviously not the kind of girl who has cake sitting around that she's not eating.)

But it's not just the necessity of finding someone who is tolerant. I need someone who is supportive too. That was one of the best things about J (besides his incredible knack of ordering the best entrée). He was insistent that I had talent and pushed me to do more with it.

Granted since then I have failed to find any momentum in terms of accomplishing my goal to write a book, what with spending my time on my very consuming job and going to the gym to combat all that cake eating. Oh and then there's my new hobby of sabotaging potential relationships. Sigh.

However, even if I never make a cent from all this over-sharing,  I will still be glad I've been writing. It's cheaper than therapy, it lets my friends and family keep up with my life, and when I'm old and lame I can look back and think my god I sure was awesome. 

(Thank goodness that this recent rejection hasn't hampered my healthy self-esteem.)