Iced Tea With Lemon

29 Jul

Life. It can be so disappointing sometimes. You start your day, you want an iced coffee. The barista gets the ice to coffee to milk ratio all wrong. You are disappointed. You reach the middle of the day and you need some white out to correct an accounting report at work, you reach for the white out tape, boom…it’s liquid white out. You have to blow on the report for 30 seconds, roughly. Disappointing. You get home from work and start to cook dinner, but leave the pasta boiling for one minute longer because you’re cleaning up your dog’s unexpected vomit on the floor. Pasta is now soft. Disa-fucking-pointing.

Well I have another disappointing scenario:

A friend asks you to dinner, or you ask a friend to dinner. Whatever. You’re going to dinner. That’s exciting. Because going to dinner is one of the most exciting things in life in your late twenties. FUCK YEAH, GOING TO DINNER. Should we get an app? I don’t know! We might get full. But apps are so good because we love crab cakes. Let’s just wing it. AND BY THAT I MEAN LET’S EAT WINGS FOR AN APP.

You get to the restaurant. You sit. You wait. You are polite and allow your friend to order her drink first. You listen in horror as she utters those seven deadly words:

“I’ll have an iced tea with lemon!”

BITCH. You could kill her. Right now. In this nice restaurant, while a kind man sips on his soup in the booth behind you. While a child patiently waits for her macaroni with little whining. While a dove cries. Iced tea. With lemon? You could kill this BITCH, your iced tea, slore-bag friend. (Right now I must say this scenario is only intended for friends you are’t best friends with because otherwise you can call her a slore out loud and threaten her).

You are at dinner. You are at a restaurant. It’s pretty much the fucking evening. You worked all day. You saved your calories for 7 hours for this extravaganza. The weather is good, despite being indoors. You are wearing makeup on 4% of your face. You only feel slightly fat. The midget twin on Little People Big World just got married. Your friend…YOUR FRIEND?!, will have an iced tea with lemon? Do you want to go back and reword that? Because I think you want something else. I think you meant to say you want a bottle of red to the face, or a draft, or to inject Rubinoff. And if you’re not feeling well, or if you’re with child, you could have at LEAST told me before asking me to dinner so I could be warned that I would be catching a Wednesday evening buzz ALONE and have some time to digest it.

Life. It can be so disappointing. There is little more annoying than thinking you are going out for dinner and drinks with one other person you are friends with (but not on the level of calling them a slore), only for them to order an iced tea with lemon before you put your drink order in. It’s rude. Don’t disappoint your friends with your bullshit sobriety. Nurse a glass of TACT, and by that I mean a glass of vodka and soda water. Because I didn’t just come here to eat. I have BOGO Tina Burritos in the freezer at home, asshole.



An Idiot’s Guide To The Fallacy of Relative Privation

11 Jun

Why is it that whenever any controversial issue comes up in the media there are people who feel the need to minimize or dismiss it by comparing it to an entirely different issue they deem as more important? Example: Bruce Jenner announces Caitlyn Jenner. Some people love it. Some people hate it. Most need to express their opinion on the internet. Ugh, but fine. Until you see those posts on your newsfeed that cry foul because people are paying attention to Caitlyn Jenner and not the military. Wait…what? It reminds me of this time I hosted a pizza party at the Hope Lodge and some ignoramus on my blog’s Facebook page commented underneath my sign up post that I’m a douche for not putting effort into helping addicts instead. Never in my life would I think I would be getting shit for throwing an event for cancer patients because another affliction also exists. And on the contrary, there are those who, when a drug addict overdoses, want to debate why a death by cancer is more of a loss. Why does anyone have to choose between two causes? Can two issues be important, or at least be viewed as two different things, or nah?

Some food for thought: Courage can be displayed in a million and one ways: a soldier fighting for our freedom. A soldier’s wife raising her kids alone while her husband fights overseas. An Olympic athlete who is part of probably the most public family in the world transitions into a woman for everyone to see. Having an opinion or gravitating towards a cause that is more personally important is one thing. It’s good to be passionate, right? What is bothersome is that some people cannot grasp emotional courage versus outward physical courage because they are stupid. And I mean that, truly: some people are stupid and cannot open their minds wide enough to grasp simple concepts involving empathy, so they use hatred in the form of shitty memes to express their ignorance. And if they could grasp it, maybe they wouldn’t feel the need to use illogical reasoning to admonish supporters of an entirely different issue.

Well, I’d love to keep typing about this shit but my peanut butter and jelly is getting stale and I’ve got to eat it because there are starving kids in Africa.


Feel Good Movie Inspiration

3 Jun

Watched what my mom would describe as a “feel good movie” on Netflix last night. It was about a washed-up celebrity chef who quits his job at a restaurant where his creativity has been stifled for years, to start a cross-country traveling food truck so that he can be free to create whatever dishes he desires. Made me feel pretty good, I guess. Kind of hungry for Mexican food. Also got me to thinking how awesome it would be to start a food truck of my own. It would be amazing to share the joy of food that was cooked on a truck with people on their lunch breaks and also with people not on their lunch breaks. Maybe I was on to something? I decided immediately that my food truck would sell 3 items: steak served medium, vino, and some kind of a carb to-be-determined. All fan favorites. All the necessary food groups represented. But good ideas like my gout inducing food truck always seem like a “good” idea when you’re inspired by a streaming Netflix video on a weeknight 2 glasses of wine in. Until the next morning when you are commuting to your desk job and you realize that your food truck attempt would just consist of you getting shitfaced off of Sutter Home red, eating a bag of curly fries to the face, and taking a nap in the back of your Jeep while it’s still in your driveway.

A girl can dream.



3 Jun




13 May

Since posting Statistics I have received so many nice Facebook messages and WordPress comments. Thank you so much for your kind words. I wasn’t seeking condolences, just an outlet for what I am feeling, and I am so truly grateful for the support – even from strangers. Writing helps me put my thoughts together and make sense of life sometimes, and if it touches or helps anyone, that makes me happy. I am also appreciative of the shares, especially on that particular blog, as I can tell from the reactions that addiction is a topic that people can relate to. Sharing and talking about it helps. Let’s keep the conversation going.




12 May


I blog when I can’t find words in real life. Happens often because I hate confrontation. Maybe this is healthy, because it’s out there in the atmosphere and off my shoulders and someone is reading it, and it’s an outlet. Maybe it’s unhealthy because if I’m pissed at someone, I’d usually rather vent in the form of typing (sometimes) vague words loosely describing my situation on a computer for whoever to read. I’ve blogged the funny, the good, the bad, the pointless, the fights, everything. I have even live-blogged my panic attacks (thank YOU Generalized Anxiety Disorder for the blog topics!). But this weekend one of my good friends died unexpectedly and I have found myself, for the first time in my life, totally speechless. In fact, I even rewrote this post about five times.

Here is my attempt at words.

I have hung out with the same group since high school. My girlfriends and my guy friends all hang out and have forever. We all somehow merged together, despite some of us having gone to different elementary or middle schools. We spent weekends and Summers hanging out, usually the girls watching the guys on the Montclair basketball court during the day, and all of us, together, drinking in the woods at night…always laughing. I went on to marry one of the guys. Two of my best friends also date two of the guys in the group, who are also my husband’s best friends, as well as my friends. We are all best friends. It is a big group, my husband and I each had nine bridesmaids/groomsmen, and we felt bad because even with nine each we had to exclude part of our group who we also considered very close friends. Our group is so big that I guess statistically, the odds were stacked against one of us. But it’s not particularly common for twenty-something year olds to think in terms of statistics when it comes to death, nor should it be.

My friend was my husband’s roommate for years (which meant I was the obnoxious girlfriend that unofficially moved in on the bachelor pad). His family took my husband in when my husband’s family moved out of the city and my husband needed a new place to call home. He was given so much more than a “home”. Ryan and my friend were more like brothers than friends. They both lost their mothers on the same day and were there for each other during their toughest hours. He stood tall next to us in wedding pictures (he had about a foot on my husband). A gentle giant. He used to pick all of us girls up and throw us over his shoulder – he had a real awesome way of making a girl feel skinny! He could pin down most of the guys and with his foot alone, keep them down, laughing as they tried to get out. He loved WWE, maybe that’s because he could have been a wrestler, given his size. Basically living with him, and intruding on the man cave, I got to experience so many real laughs (I fake laugh a lot I guess?) that go along with hanging with the boys. The disgusting conversations. The legitimate fighting over one of the guys beating the other in Madden. My husband would write parody songs and sing them, with the boys doing sound effects and recording them (one in particular being our late friend doing turkey sound effects as my husband sang to his guitar a song about one of the boys having relations with a girl with turkey-like features). When my husband and I would go for late night dips in the pool, our friend would sneak out in a Jason mask and rise up from the back of the above ground pool slowly, staring, until I noticed him and screamed more loudly than I have in my life. The pranks that go down when being a girl amongst a group of guys.

The shock of the phone call we got with the news of his passing was so great that it brought me to my knees. I kneeled for 20 minutes on the grass in my backyard. On this warm and sunny day in May, the world had stopped. It’s ironic that the most ugly thing that I could imagine happening had happened on such a beautiful day. It has been extremely difficult to be there for my husband, his best friend, who has experienced more loss in his life already than I ever could imagine. In fact, this is my first real loss and I am, I think, handling it poorly. I don’t know how to judge how I am handling it, is there a tool that measures grief? I am really upset. I am also feeling regret. I wish I had more pictures. I wish that last Saturday when I saw him during the Mayweather fight that I had sat next to him and talked to him more, because it had been a couple of weeks since I had last seen him. I wish that I had paid more attention and noticed certain things about his demeanor that I am now seeing in pictures I took of that night. Something in hindsight, was not quite right.

My friend was an addict. Despite stereotypes, not all drug addicts are the same. They don’t all look the same, how a stranger might describe a “junkie outside the T” with sores, sunken-in eyes, looking gaunt. No, some look like my big, goofy friend, who smiled with his eyes and wore Patriots jerseys. Some people with addictions hold down steady jobs, and are respected by their coworkers. They come to our cookouts and parties. They stand with us while we get married. They watch boxing matches with the guys on Saturday nights. They don’t all act the same. Or possess the same qualities. They aren’t bad people. They, like my friend, can actually be the best kind of people. That give their jackets to the homeless guy they talk to on the way to work every day.

People suffering from addiction come from wonderful families. My friend lived with his aunt, who became an aunt to all of us. She is one of the best people I know. People suffering from addiction also have friends that don’t use. I say this because I’ve gotten a lot of slowly asked “Did you and your friend have a lot of mutual friends?” the last few days and if it comes from the wrong person I just want to scream at them: “ASK WHAT YOU REALLY WANT TO ASK!!!!  ASK IF I HANG OUT WITH JUNKIES BECAUSE GOD KNOWS THAT AN ADDICT WOULD HAVE FRIENDS THAT DON’T USE!!!” I am really learning the past few days that there are stupid questions. I am not speaking of the questions from friends, I know they care. It’s the randoms. And I know that I am just really angry and being irrational and people in general have good intentions (that “people have good intentions” bit sounds like one of those statements on a job assessment you are supposed to strongly agree with). But I see through it when certain people question. I am finding that there are questions that people ask that are really just nosiness and unfair judgments in disguise. They will reword the question to make it sound nice. Like asking if we had mutual friends. It’s a strange question. Why does that matter? I get it, no one knows what to say. I don’t even know what to say. Yes, all his friends were my friends, and my friends, his. Almost every friend we had was a mutual friend. My friend was a person with a skeleton in his closet, like everyone else. His vice was just more deadly than my glasses of red wine after a shitty day. And we all knew it was there. I can’t even say it was a closeted skeleton, because here we go with another question that I find to be stupid when asked by the wrong person “Didn’t you know?” . Of course we knew it, maybe not the extent of it, but why would we express anything we knew to someone outside of our circle or his family? All any good friend wants is to protect their friends. From harm. From judgment. Of course it was out there between us and our friend, and he knew that we were there.  We were family. We still are. And we tried the best we could to fix it. But sometimes “the best we could” is not enough.

Statistically, this was going to happen. I hated statistics in college, but I’ve never hated statistics more than I do now.


What You Owe

30 Apr

Here is a non-funny Buzzfeedy blog with a list of some things we don’t owe anyone but need to stop stressing over!!!

An Explanation: Unless you make a real commitment to something important to someone, we owe no sort of explanations for anything. “No, thank you” is just fine. You don’t need a reason for not wanting to do something other than not wanting to do it. If someone in your life takes that personally, then that is their problem to work out, not yours. If you make plans with a friend to hangout after work, then you have a long, shitty day and decide you’d rather house a buffalo chicken sub alone on your couch, you shouldn’t worry that your friend will make a big deal or talk shit or use the old school fan favorite childhood vocabulary word “ditched” . You also shouldn’t feel the need to make up a better excuse because you think they’ll pick your excuse apart. Don’t lie to appease someone. I would rather hang with my friends when they want to hang, not when they feel obligated. Here is a good way to say it, “Hey, today sucked. I won’t be much fun today. Rain check?”. Easy peasy.

An Immediate Response: I love my iPhone in an unhealthy way. My iPhone is for me to use how I want to use it. If I don’t feel like talking, I don’t have to. If I mentally reply to a text, but forget to hit “send”, I don’t need to hear about it (example: “You didn’t answer my text but you opened my Snap!” Unless you had definitive plans to meet up, shut up and move on). We are so connected to our social technology that it’s almost expected that we always be available for everyone. A cell phone is a lifeline to socialization. We pay for it monthly to use it how we want to. Your friends should understand that you will reach out when you reach out. And them, the same.

The Same Priorities: Everyone has different shit going on in their lives, and some are in different places. My husband is one of my priorities, because he is under the “family” category now. If a friend is asking you to set your priorities to the side to accommodate them, then maybe they need to tone down the neediness. Example “But you live with your husband! You see him every day. Hang with me!”. Um. What? Okay, why don’t you call in sick to your highly important career to get day drunk with me because “I need you right now because I’m in a fight with my husband!”. Priorities don’t have to be the same in a friendship, but they do need to be acknowledged and respected.

An invitation: I have more that one friend. Sometimes I just want to hangout with one. Sometimes all of them. It doesn’t always have to be a party, but sometimes it’s nice. If a friend sees you check in on Facebook to the dive bar up the street and wants to join, let her call you and say “Hey, saw you and so and so are at bladdy blah, I’d love to join for a beer!”. There is no need to be butt-hurt over not being included in the initial plan. If someone gets mad at you for that, it is their own insecurity. I’ve had this problem in my own life, as I am sure everyone has heard the old “thanks for the invite” jab (side note, I’d love to jab the people who write this under Facebook check in’s…right in the face). It always confused me, because I just invite myself to places I think it would be okay for me to go. I’m not saying I invite myself to weddings or anything major, but a simple “can I join you guys at breakfast?” will suffice. I started taking inventory on who was doing this crap to me…the “thank for the invite” shit. Noticing a pattern of hypocrisy, I too would call it out, just to make a point (example: “You got pissed at me for doing this without you, but now you’re there and didn’t ask me to come!”). I am vowing to never do that again. If you notice yourself doing that, stop. Maybe you weren’t invited because your friends were going to a restaurant they know you don’t like. Maybe they thought you had plans. Or MAYBE they just didn’t think about you on this occasion. And that’s alright, too.

A little branch off of this topic is that you also don’t owe anyone updates on what you are doing. If you invite someone to hang, and they decline based on what you’re doing, you don’t need to update them if your plan changes. If they were tired when you invited them to come by for vino, then why should you feel bad that you decided to grab a slice of pizza up the street instead? They said they were tired. If the plan sounds more exciting than it used to and the thought of pizza and beer wakes them up (it would wake me up!), then they can give you a call. You don’t have to constantly update someone based on plan changes. You have the right to change your mind. You are an adult and you can do whatever the fuck you want without consulting anyone.

An Apology: If you aren’t sorry, don’t apologize. Too often we apologize to keep the peace. If you feel you didn’t do anything wrong, don’t feel the need lie about being sorry to make someone else feel better. What about your own feelings? Fake apologizing is giving in. It leads to built up resentment, and that’s counter-productive. There is nothing wrong with agreeing to disagree then working towards a resolution based on a mutual want to make a situation or relationship better.

We also have the tendency of keeping quiet about things that hurt our feelings. Why? If something upsets you, just say it. We teach people how to treat us. Don’t let anyone treat you like shit..which leads me into what we DO owe friends, and that is: Respect. I get that to get respect we have to earn it. But I am talking about friends here. If someone is on friend level with you, they should have already have earned your respect. If you don’t respect your friends then you are being a bad friend. If your friend doesn’t respect you, then they are being a bad friend. Friendship is a mutual respect and if one side is lacking, it is probably time to lay the relationship to rest. Respect ties into everything mentioned above. I don’t owe it to my friends to invite them every time I leave my house. But I do respect them enough that I am not going to go to brunch and invite all of my other friends and leave just one friend out. I respect them enough that I am going to call them back when I get a free second. If I am going to their favorite restaurant, I will give them a call to see if they want to tag along. If I have unintentionally hurt their feelings, I am going to apologize because I don’t want to be responsible for hurting them. But I am not going to constantly sacrifice my own feelings to make someone feel better. Any “friend” who expects you to do so is someone you should move on from.



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