Happy Mother's Day

Although I might occassionally give my mom a hard time on the blog (and in real life), she's the best. (Maybe just not the best wingman.) 

As a prominent member of the Rachel Fan Club (total membership: 3 people), she's so supportive of me and I'm eternally grateful. While it's hard living so far away from each other, I always appreciate her "I loved your blog post today" emails and gchat check-ins.

Over the years, my mom has taught me so many great life lessons, including the gem: "tan" fat looks skinnier than white fat so go get some fake tanner on those legs to make yourself feel better post winter. It is true!

Hopefully some day I can be as great and insightful of a mom as she is - to a dog baby and/or a human baby.

Love you mommy! I'll see you this week. And happy mother's day to Dolo, the world's best grandma, and all the other mom's out there too. Y'all are amazing. I can barely take care of The BFF, I don't know how you do it.

Great Grandma Goes to Prom, Will Most Likely Be Let Down By Lack of Awesomeness

First of all, setting my prom cynicism aside, this story is adorable.

Ninety year old Haselteen Rumbo has been waiting for the chance to attend her very first prom because "back 60 years ago, you couldn't go because of the dancing." Funny to think that jitterbugging was sinful back then. Oh how our moral standards have fallen.

Haselteen's date to the Fort Osage Highs School prom will be her great grandson, who apparently doesn't mind because girls at his school "think it's cute." He's enjoying the attention because "a lot of girls who have never talked to me, now talk to me."

Note to guys everywhere: In addition to puppies and babies, adorable old grandmas are babe-magnets too.

The reason Haselteen is going to the prom is to check another item off her bucket list . "I got a lot to do," she said. A few weeks ago, she went to her first concert and met Reba McEntire after sitting in the sixth row.

The nursing home Haselteen lives in started granting wishes about a year ago and so far it has granted 30 wishes. "We believe you are never too old to try something new," said Independence Mayor Tracy Bunch. "Everything from going to watch The Price Is Right to learning to play the drums."

So sweet!

Hope Haselteen has a fun time and her date doesn't ditch her to go hottubing with his stupid gf!

The Do's and Don'ts of White Pants

Yesterday I saw THREE people wearing white pants in the span of my fifteen minute commute. In my head I was all, OMG it's not even Memorial Day!? Then I realized it is May and nice weather, so maybe it doesn't matter? Here are a few tips, though, to keep in mind when rockin' the bold pantaloon choice:

- Do wear proper undergarments, i.e. not black granny panties.

- Don't forget to wear something underneath, skank.

- Do wear them if you're tan, the contrast makes you look even darker.

- Don't wear them if you've just applied fake tanner and are sweating in the dank subway humidity. The ol' bronzer tie-dye look is not sex-ay.

- Do bring a Tide pen with you in case of some accidental stainage.

- Don't even think about getting that red sno cone from the guy selling them on the street. It ain't going to end well, klutzy.

- Do wear them with confidence.

- Don't wear them if you're questioning whether or not you can pull them off. Because that means you prob can't. Sorrs.

- Do wear them if you want a divebar band in downtown Denver to serenade you with a song dedicated to the pants' awesomeness.

- Don't wear them if you're against being molested by the lead singer.

"White pants. White pants. White pants in the house tonight. White pants. Whiteeeeeeeeeeeee paaaaaants."

Yes, if you're keeping track, I have had two songs written about me. Hands down one of the most fun nights from last summer. [Note: S lives in Denver and needs to come visit me and The BFF soon for a reunion!!! I promise I will find us a place to go as awesome as El Chapultepec.]

Here are some pics from that legendary night.

Cinco de Mayo Probation

What are you doing to celebrate Cinco de Mayo? Going to Arizona? Too soon?

I'm doing nothing. I'm not even cooking a Tex-Mex inspired meal (which is shocking since I cook fish tacos fairly regularly).

A self-inflicted ban is still in tact after annually Cinco de Mayo'ing myself out in college. And not in a good way. More in a 'I thought it was acceptable to drink my weight in Mexican beer and throw some sort of bratty tantrum for no good reason' way. There were typically tears involved. Who doesn't love to be around that?

So in an attempt to be a mature adult, I will let another Fifth of May go uncelebrated. Maybe next year I'll be allowed to join in on the festivities. We'll see what my imaginary parole officer says.

You Should Be Paying Me for This Dating Insight

Ever wish you could know what was going on inside the heads of guys you're dating?

Well yours truly did a little qualitative dating research, some investigative digging if you will, to get some answers from single guys in the city.

You're welcome.

The two guys I grilled, I mean talked to about their personal lives, currently fall on different ends of the dating spectrum. One of the guys is on the more aggressive end; the other, on the, err, lazier. Dating is a lot of effort so I totally understand that end of things.

They're both nice, normal guys from good families. Unlike some serial bachelors (I've dated), they both want to settle down with the right person. It's just that neither has found her yet.

Guy A has a rotating roster averaging four ladies. Some phase in and out, some stick around for a few games. None are The One. Almost all are my age (he is approx. 8 years older). He seems to think that the 24 - 26 age range will be the pool from which he selects his perfect woman no matter how old he is when that time comes. Like Matthew McConaughey's famous line in Dazed and Confused, "That's what I love about these high school girls, man. I get older, they stay the same age."

He made sure to note that his juggling of multiple ladies wasn't sleazy or undermining in anyway. I assured him lots of girls are doing the same thing. Serial dating is a game. Learn the rules and play by them, otherwise get out.
Tip: This is the kind of guy who you must play it cool with. Patience is a virtue. CGS is not. The thing to keep in mind is that you never really know where on the dating spectrum a guy falls. And no, you can't always tell. But, if he's aloof, makes plans spaced far enough apart that he could be fitting in a whole other life or two, he probably is. Take your number, sit down and wait your turn. Whether or not you're willing to hold out long enough to be the last (wo)man standing is up to you, but running to the front of the line and banging on the glass is going to get you nowhere but off his list.

Guy B isn't currently seeing anyone. Oh the effort involved in casual dating. Like, sorry I have a job and important TV shows to catch up on. But that doesn't mean he's not interested. He's just not suited up for the game right now. Injured reserves maybe?

Tip: This is the type you should go after. Not to change metaphors for the hundredth time in this post, but a slow moving animal is easier to catch. I mean, I think, but I don't actually know because I don't hunt. It just seems like you might have more luck getting the laid-back guy to fall into your boyfriend trap than the hustler. Okay, I'm just digging myself in a hole here. Girls are not that devious, I promise...

Here are a few more tidbits of insight to share:

- There's a difference between playing it cool and being indifferent. Don't let a guy take your attitude to mean you don't give a shit. Because then he won't give a shit either. Showing interest and respect isn't lame, it's refreshing.

- There is a communications hierarchy. Calling is the top level followed by text (or I guess BBM, but sorry I'm not in your stupid club so therefore I don't care...) then email then FB message. If a guy calls you, call him back. Responding with a text says 'ehhh you're not worth the effort to move my vocal chords. My thumbs are already nimble.' The same should be kept in mind of guys' efforts. If a guy who has your number sends you a FB message, go ahead and unfriend.

- Don't text like an insecure seventh grader. Texting can dumb down your communication skillz. If you include 'jk' or - God forbid - LOL in each of your messages, he's going to think you're a self-conscious moron. Just.Don't.Do.It. Also, asking "Who are you with?" in every correspondence is totally unnecess. Inquiring what group of people you're currently hanging with sounds superficial. And obviously girls are anything but...  I guess "are you alone?" is kind of creepy to ask, but if that's the info you're after, think of a better way to find it out.

Okay, that's all I got. Hopefully it's helpful. And hopefully neither source will cut-off the tap to future insight.

Every Girl Every Had a Legendary Weekend

Like every girl ever, my weekend was the best weekend ever. It was the first weekend in May and temperatures surpassed 80 degrees. Decked out in my effortlessly chic ensemb, I spent the day basking in the glory of amazing weather as I giggled my way through rounds and rounds of drinks and shared meals. Even if you end up eating four dinners, it doesn't really count because you were splitting them. Every girl ever knows that.

Sporting a so in right now floral sundress and royal blue gladiator sandals, I knew every girl ever was adequately impressed with my outfit just like I was with theirs. Ray Bans. Check. Hot & Spicy OPI nail polish. Check. Jalepeno margarita. Check.

Like every girl ever, the combination of sunshine and cocktails made me way friendlier than normal. Under different circumstances I might not have been psyched to be surrounded by beautiful strangers, but not this weekend. Like every girl ever, I made a million new best friends.

Speaking of best friends and part of why my weekend was legendary, I went out with The BFF to 'da club. Like every girl ever, sometimes you just need a night on the town, a place to dance and an opportunity to show off in your lucky dress. You know, the one that every time you wear it you know you look good? Some people go to therapy for self-confidence boosting affirmation. I go to Meatpacking. In a black ruffly racerback number and four inch heels.

Like every girl ever, I know that club life is not real life. Bottle service is nice, but being a nightlife prostie is not. Watching the scene - especially the peroxide trainwrecks surrounding New York Jets football players sharing our table - I reminded myself that Tiger Woods' skanks were just that type too. Like every girl ever, thanks but no thanks.

After being escorted to the hottest club de jour by our promoting bestie Jimmy, The BFF and I decided that exclusively cramped scenes (boasting not-to-be-found Gossip Girl starlets) were less appealing at two a.m. than late-night pizza.

Like every girl ever, I have my priorities.

The following morning, the two of us awoke motivated to make the most of the weekend sun. Like every girl ever, we headed to the jogging path along the West Side highway to get some rays and burn some cals. Obviously if you do the math, that work out totally made up for the following eight solid hours of eating and drinking. Every girl ever knows that.

Now, like every girl ever, I'm sad that it's back to the real world tomorrow. At least I got a little (lobster-esque) color and a credit card bill that will remind me of all the fun memories.

And to think, the summer is just beginning. Like every girl ever, I know it will be legen - wait for it - dary. Oh wait, every girl ever won't get that Barney Stinson reference because no one watches How I Met Your Mother but me.

Sweet dreams of next weekend's activities.

xoxo
Every girl ever

Swedish Princess Escapes to New York; Expect ABC Family Movie Sometime Next Year

Being raised in America I always forget there are real princesses out there in the world, not just the Disney versions or Hollywood starlets who think they are. (And, no, British Royals don't count. They're too commercially recognizable.)

But apparently in the midst of glorious New York (the weather is awesome therefore I love the city), a Swedish princess is hiding from relationship drama of her native country.

According to New York magazine:

Less than a month ago, 27-year-old Princess Madeleine of Sweden was all set to marry her long-term boyfriend, lawyer Jonas Bergstrom, 31. It was to be a "fairy tale" wedding, according to Hello magazine, with dancing and drinking and a traditional smorgasbord. But then: A 21-year-old Nordic handball player with the wonderfully sluttish and low-rent name Tora Uppstrom Berg revealed to Norwegian magazine Se og Hor that she had had a fling with Bergstrom behind Madeleine's back. "I could not foresee the kind of attention this would get and I regret that I told the story," Tora said later. "I feel sorry for Madeleine." Whatever, Tora.

The wedding was, needless to say, off. Rather than be hounded by the Swedish press, who follow her every move (of course they do! Who else are they going to stalk, ABBA?), the princess decided to get on a plane and come to a city where hardly anyone knows her: New York.

What will she do here? According to Hello, she's "been throwing herself into work for her mother's World Children Foundation in an attempt to take her mind off the breakup." So there's that. But she'll also have to shake off the Swedish paparazzi, so she'll probably get a radical new haircut, maybe something brunette with bangs, from a sassy hairdresser who will become her best friend. After that, there will be a montage: The princess looking out at the city from the top of the Empire State Building, interacting with crabby cab drivers and snooty salesgirls who don't know she's a princess, and having a terrible mixup in which she doesn't realize she's not supposed to eat the koi fish in the pond at the botanical gardens. Oops! Finally, she'll end up having a lonely, homesick wander through the aisles of Ikea. There, she'll bump into a hunky carpenter with rumpled hair, abs of steel, and no idea that she is a princess, she'll help him select an Ektorp, and they will fall in love and live happily ever after. Or, at least, that's what would happen if this were a Julia Stiles movie.

We all know I'll be tuning in for that one.

And, Madeleine, if you are looking for a lovable yet awkward side-kick to show you around and teach you about casual dating in this town, I'm your girl. Just don't cast me as Heather Matazzo in the movie.