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Ac-count-a-bil-i-ty!

24 May

Accountability: acknowledging and being responsible for one’s own actions. For the most part, we are where we are because of our own decisions. We made a decision. We acted on it. There was an outcome. We are here. This idea is something that my own generation struggles with after years of entitlement and coddling. It’s the fucking Twilight Zone, man.

Broke? In a perfect world we realize we should have done an internship/gone to college/worked harder. In reality we blame it on the economy and the government and affirmative action.

Overweight? In a perfect world we  realize we shouldn’t have eaten Pizza Connection ten times in a week. In reality we blame our weight on pain from breaking our leg in 1992.

Unhappy? In a perfect world we realize we should be proactive to give ourselves the best lives we can to achieve being content because happiness isn’t a place, it’s a choice. In reality we blame our parents for not getting us the Barbie convertible or kissing us good night enough in the 80′s.

Butthurt? In a perfect world we realize our feelings are hurt because there is some truth to something we don’t want to be true. In reality we ignore scientific/medical/known statistical FACT and twist the truth so far until  it fits our lifestyle and gives us an excuse and reason to get angry when someone speaks the truth.

Alone? In a perfect world we search from within ourselves to find a common denominator, a common trait, or a reason we are pushing people away from us because it’s not normal that no one wants to be around us. In reality we blame it on the personality defect that every person we have ever come across on this earth displays. It’s not us, it’s them.

Everyone in this world has some kind of a predisposition that serves as an obstacle for us to overcome in order to achieve a certain goal. It’s how we first accept and then react to these predispositions that builds our character. Bitching and moaning turns us into a group of self-entitled monsters. No one is perfect, but when we acknowledge our flaws, we evolve. Let’s get our shit together. Accountability: learn it, love it and maybe you’ll finally earn that trophy you’ve been damning your frenemy to hell for achieving before you. Wherever you go, there you fucking are. Ya feel me?!

Namaste.

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Proper Memorializing

23 May

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There isn’t a weekend in the entire year that says Summer quite like Memorial Day weekend. It’s basically the official kick off of good weather and great times. But this weekend, while we are having a good ole American time, let’s remember that Memorial Day is really about paying our respects to fallen men and women in the United States Armed Forces. My father used to take me over to Cedar Grove Cemetery ever Memorial Day to pay respects to my late veteran grandfather. It’s important to remember how we are able to enjoy a weekend in our country quite as free as ours. People have fought and still fight for that very right. Never forget it!

So, pay your respects… then it’s time to really start memorializing. By “memorializing”, I mean binge drinking after 12pm donned in Ray Bans, boat shoes,  and nautical colors. If you have a boat,  perfect. Just blast some Springsteen and make sure it’s not a sausage fest cruise. If you’re poor, find someone with a pool (preferably inground) and a grill that’s not shitty. Bring the Bubba Burgers so you don’t come off as a cheap ass, cart around a cooler with wheels for easy pulling, and crack a cold one 17 times. Repeat this process every weekend until Labor Day and you’re good!

UPDATE: It’s going to rain this entire Memorial Day weekend. Maybe let this sink a little bit, perhaps cry in the bathroom at work for ten minutes. Look at yourself while you cry to make yourself feel extra bad for yourself. Then get your shit together and consider a trip to Foxwoods. I mean, does it get any more American than Native Americans and casinos? My country tis of thee, indeed.

Namaste.

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Not Everyone Is Going To Like You. And People Are Going To Talk About You.

20 May

Not everyone is going to like you. And  they will express it (not to you most of the time). One of those lessons in life that is kind of hard to swallow when you know that you are fabulous motherfucking sorcerer. You can say that you don’t give a fuck what other people think, and maybe you are one of those lucky people who really don’t give a fuck. Or maybe you’re on pills so you literally can’t give a fuck because your default feeling is nonchalant. But if you aren’t on pills, and you do give a fuck and all you feel like you can do is repeat that Kanye West-ish (I assume) mantra “haters gonna hate”, then you must be pretty bummed because deep down you know that most people who say “haters gonna hate” sound like douchebags.

If you’re a total psycho, like me, you probably get kind of pissed off when you hear that someone is talking about you. I actually have a reaction, no matter how hard I try not to. I repeat to myself in a self-help books on tape monotone voice “Not everyone is going to like you, and that’s okay”. I almost always have to confront the person who talks about me even though I know that it’s very likely they are going to lie and nothing will come of it. It just makes me feel better and if something will make you feel better in life, without hurting someone else, I am all for it. But then there are those situations when you are told not to confront someone by the messenger. Which is probably the greatest first world problem ever. When a friend says “If I tell you something, promise you won’t say anything?”. It’s like, obviously now I have to make a promise that I could potentially break based on what you are about to tell me and that alone pisses me off. It’s like, if you care that the person talking about me is going to get mad at  you for telling me, then why are you telling me? Why aren’t you off talking about me with the person doing the talking because you obviously don’t care enough about me to let me confront this person if I want to. You follow me?

What confuses me about people not liking me or another person is that in order for me to not like someone, my life needs to somehow have been inconvenienced by someone for me to not like them. Example:  Last year I got pissed off on 4th of July because some chick banned me from a cookout at a mutual friend’s house because I had written a blog condemning her for bringing Stop & Shop brand hotdogs to my cookout. In my defense,  I had written the blog after hearing she had called me and my friends white trash. I guess in the eyes of a girl from Hingham, we are ripping white trash. But as someone not from Hingham, I think I’m classy as fuck. But back to my point. If I saw this girl now, or even a month after she banned me from the cookout, I would be totally indifferent to her. Because I stopped giving a fuck about her the day after the cookout. My plan for 4th of July was changed and it was out of my control and I didn’t like that. But I literally can’t not like someone for that long because it takes energy away from me and alters my life even longer than the duration of some whack ass cookout with meat that is not up to par. As someone who has self-induced chronic fatigue for staying up on the internet too late at night, I need that energy to get through my day without setting myself on fire. So in order to stay somewhat content, I try not to spend my time disliking someone. And if you don’t dislike someone, you don’t need to talk about them. The exception to this is when someone is jealous of you. They don’t have to dislike you to be jealous. They just need to hear that you have something that they don’t have to talk about you. So in my egotistical mind, either you don’t like me because you are investing your own energy into disliking me and you are resentful that I am altering your life in that manner, OR you are jealous of me. When I am talking about someone else, it’s because they have fucked up a period of my time, or because I am jealous that they have something I do not have, which is a normal feeling that happens even if you don’t want it to. When someone is talking about me, I spend a period of time wondering why. And spending a period of time that I could have used to catch up on celebrity gossip on things like asking myself why someone was talking about me stresses me out because I know I shouldn’t care about someone who just possibly wants something that I have that they don’t. So I repeat to myself that not everyone is going to like me, and they are going to talk about it to whoever will listen, and unless someone wants to fuck up a period of my day by telling me about it, I probably won’t find out about it because I’m off somewhere being a fabulous motherfucking sorcerer.

The first point to this unnecessarily long  blog is to say that it’s normal to give a fuck if someone doesn’t like you or if someone talks about you. It’s ideal to not give a fuck. If you don’t give a fuck because you are on pills, it’s science. People will tell you not to give a fuck or waste your time wondering, but that probably won’t matter. Just repeat to yourself that not everyone is going to like you and go on with your day because behavior becomes abnormal when you dwell. If it will make you feel better and makes you stop dwelling, confront the person with the expectation that it won’t do anything to change this person’s opinion of you and they will probably lie about it because some humans have the tendency to be pussies when put under pressure. You should do anything that makes you feel a little better as long as you are not hurting someone else. Example: The second point to this unnecessarily long blog was to confront the girl who was talking about me this weekend. I know what you said.  And I’m sorry you’re jealous of me. Ahhh, I feel better now. The third and most important point to this unnecessarily long blog is to say that no matter what other people say or think about you, you are still fabulous. Unless you aren’t. Either way, stop dwelling.

I typed the word “pussies”. Ew.

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Meet Stephanie of Gorgeous Styles ect.

9 May

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Once in awhile I like to shout out businesses that I know (from experience) are amazing. I am so excited for my friend Stephanie who recently followed her dream and opened her own salon. Stephanie is a friendly and positive girl (from Quincy) who is also an extremely talented hairdresser. I highly recommend Stephanie to anyone! Nicest girl in the world (I spilled taco dip on her white shirt during game night this past weekend and she was so cool about it), and she always looks as gorgeous as the styles she guarantees her clients, so you will know you are in good hands! I asked Stephanie to write about herself to give you more of an idea of  her experience in her industry, so here she is…

SK: I’ve been in the business for 8 years after attending Blaine in Boston. I am Keratin Complex Soothing Therapy certified and have taken multiple color and cutting classes at The Studio in New York City. I work with Wella Color. At my old salon I would teach junior stylists new techniques and how to master the art of hair.

I felt like after 8 years of working for someone else, it was finally time to take ahold of my dreams and open up my own business. My new salon is called Gorgeous Styles etc., located at 247 Washington Street in Weymouth, MA (parking located in the back).

Please book an appointment with Stephanie, mention my blog and receive $10.00 off through the month of May! To receive updates on openings and promotions, and to check out her work, you can “like” Gorgeous Styles etc. on Facebook.

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Girl Code 101

29 Apr

I’m all for that girl power shit, but some girls are dogs. Whatever happened to girl power and that talk of if you wanna be my lover you gotta get with my friends? Did that die out in the 90′s or did it just never exist? Guys have their own code that they brag about all the time, bros before hoes and shit. But girls don’t seem to follow suit, even siding with other guys sometimes. Some girls either don’t know girl code or they just don’t care to follow it, and honestly, I’m sick of seeing girls dog each other. So ladies, let’s stop being gross and start treating each other the way that we like to be treated. This should put an end to slut-shaming once and for all!!!!!!

Here’s is a girl code refresher course:

Don’t mack on a sistah’s man. Sharing is caring but not when it comes to bodily fluids and STD’s!!!! What a perfect world this would be if every time another girl’s boyfriend flirted with us, rather than flirt back, we told Romeo to LAY THE FUCK OFF!!!! And if you are the girl trying to flirt with a dude you know is hooked up, then maybe you need to check yourself before you wreck yourself because it’s never a good look, and never will be! I mean, you might as well be trying on another woman’s underwear when you are trying to get with her man, and that’s gross. If you feel like you don’t get enough attention from a special someone, then get a cat. They are similar to men in that they have ears but don’t give a fuck what you’re saying, so why risk hurting someone? Truth is, every girl has been that girl who has gotten cheated on and it’s not fun. If you didn’t like it when it happened to you, then don’t do it to someone else. Hint: if you don’t know he’s got a girlfriend, take a look at his claddagh ring. If he doesn’t have a claddagh ring, then a quick social media search will do the trick. The stalking technology is out there for us, only a click away. Utilize that shit. Stalking is one of our strongest instincts, ladies! Be stealth!

Be a solid wing-woman. Girls need them, too! When your single friend needs a little help meeting guys, be the wing-woman you would want for yourself. That means: don’t sulk the entire time, talk her up (not down!), take one for the team, don’t tell the story about the time she shit herself on Thanksgiving morning, and know when to bail.

Stop with the “But we aren’t friends, I don’t owe her anything” shit: Often times when a girl wrongs another girl, her excuse is “Well, I’m not friends with that girl so I don’t care because I don’t owe her shit”.  Well, you should care, because whether or not you know “that girl” doesn’t take away from the character that you are building for yourself. And what’s the the talk of not owing anyone anything? I don’t owe anyone money right now, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to rip apart their home life. If you want to be known as the scumbag who does shitty things to other females because you don’t ow anyone anything, then that’s your prerogative. Just know that Tupac is shaking his head from the heavens.

Be honest: If you were walking around in some ridiculous new fashion trend and you looked like a total dope, wouldn’t you want to know? The answer, unless you’re a hipster douchebag, is YES, you would. We don’t always want our boyfriends to tell us when we aren’t looking our best (for example, I got a shirt that I really liked, and Ryan told me that I look like Mortal Kombat in it the first time I wore it, so I cannot wear that shirt anymore and that makes me think he thinks I look like Mortal Kombat all the time now. If my girlfriend had said it, I would have just told her to shut up and get out of the 90′s, then change my shirt). We need our girlfriends to (nicely) tell us the truth, even when we look like Mortal Kombat, because it hurts our feelings less than when our boyfriends break the news.

Look out for your girls: If you see that she’s hammered at the end of the night, make sure she got home alright. A dead friend is a friend that is not alive, and we want to hang out with real, live friends.

Stop hating on another female’s success: If a girl we know (or don’t know!) is doing well for herself, how about we take it as an accomplishment for women, instead or bashing her for being successful out of some fit of jealousy? Nothing wrong with working hard to achieve a goal, so why hate on it? And nothing wrong with a little healthy competition, but how about using it as a constructive tool to better ourselves and uplift one another. Corny? Yes! But so are your Maya Angelou quote Facebook statuses, so why not go balls to the wall? Or you know what? If we are going to hate on someone else’s success, let’s at LEAST  own it! Be like “EW SHE BOUGHT A HOUSE BECAUSE SHE WORKED HARD TO GET A GOOD JOB AND CAN AFFORD IT?! I AM SO JEALOUS!!! MAYBE I SHOULD TAKE A CUE FROM THIS BITCH AND GET A GOOD JOB SO I TOO CAN BUY A HOUSE!!!!”. This way, we know we are being ridiculous, but we are also vowing to work on ourselves so we aren’t jealous psychos who talk shit about innocent bystanders anymore.

Stop calling dibs on men: I hate this shit. If a girl hits it off with a guy, then as far as girl code is concerned, she has staked her claim. None of this “dibs” shit. This isn’t child’s play! We aren’t calling shotgun here, we are distributing men as pets and men are humans too!!! The girl who hits it off is the winning bidder, not the girl who calls “dibs!” when she sees an attractive man.

(wo)Man the fuck up!: If you’re pissed at your friend, stop talking about it behind her back to all your mutual friends and tell her! Go directly to the source to solve the problem. Start with “hey, you know I didn’t like that shit you did when blah blah blah” then go from there.  Actions speak louder than words. Don’t be a twat.

Be a therapist: Remember that time you got dumped? Yeah, that sucked. If your girl gets dumped, BE THERE FOR HER. Plan a girl’s night without your boyfriend lingering around like a weirdo who goes to girl’s night and do something to get her mind off her dumbass ex boyfriend.

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GIRL POWER! Now that you’ve read this, I can guarantee that you will never have to subject yourself to that whack new show on Mtv called Girl Code. Yay?

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How To Get People Out Of Your Way Without Being Rude.

22 Apr

Two weeks ago I was walking up a pretty busy Back Bay street with my coworker Regina. The further we walked, the busier the sidewalk seemed to get.  We approached a large group of Japanese fan girls (I think? I was drunk so I can’t be sure who was standing in a large group) and could barely get passed them. Suddenly, Regina started shouting “Excuse me Walter! Get out the way Walter!!!!” at the startled group. I was pleasantly surprised when the group split like the red sea to let us walk by. I turned to Regina and asked “What the FUCK was that? Who is Walter?”. Regina went on to tell me that whenever she needs someone to get out of her way, instead of being rude she just shouts “Excuse me Walter!”, and maneuvers her way through as the crowd creates a path for her. She explained that she does this on the train and at the bus stop, too. I didn’t feel like I needed to ask what possessed her to do this that first time that she tried it, as my coworker Regina does what she wants. Like, right now, she’s laughing hysterically in a coat closet and I don’t understand why.

So next time you want to get through a crowd without throwing elbows, name drop Walter, even if you don’t know who Walter is. It works. You think just because you’re an elderly person or a woman with a baby that people are just magically going to move for you? Nope. You need an imaginary man named Walter to come to your aid.

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Tragedy

18 Apr

I don’t really know where to start when it comes to the subject of tragedy. I am a college educated, 26 year old girl who lives in a great city ten minutes outside of Boston where 98% of my loved ones are only a quick drive away. A half an hour at most. My entire life has  thus far been a series of good things happening to me. My parents are loving, nurturing people who are still alive and very happily married. My entire family is still in tact with no tragic problems. Only the kind of problems that every “normal” family has. Whatever that means. I am poor in that I could not afford to buy a big house or have 5 kids, but not poor in that I struggle to pay rent, or that I couldn’t afford to book a tropical vacation right now, if I wasn’t saving up to buy fancy invitations for my wedding. I have a beautiful diamond engagement ring from the best guy a girl could ever pray for while watching Cinderella as a child. I have a decent and steady job. I go to Brant Rock a few weekends of Summer where my parents have an RV a couple hundred feet from a beach called Blue Fish Cove. I have no tragic problems.

To someone like me, a tragedy is when I have to work on a really nice day while my friends are Instagram’ing themselves day-drinking on a roof deck. A tragedy to me is missing the first 15 minutes of some crappy reality show on Tuesday nights because I don’t get out of work until 9pm. A tragedy to me is walking to the T in the rain, then missing my train because the Charlie Card machine is malfunctioning.

You probably understand that what I am trying to say is that my life is not tragic. It’s the opposite. I go to work every day, stop for a sugar free Red Bull at the same gas station on Old Colony Avenue in South Boston. I listen to the same radio show program every morning. I beep at people who cut me off and curse at people who won’t let me merge into another lane – another tragedy (to me). I sing loudly when Justin Timberlake’s new song comes on during my commute back to my city that is ten minutes outside of Boston. I cannot comprehend what a real tragedy is. It is impossible because I have never experienced it directly.

When the bombs went off Monday at the 117th annual Boston Marathon, I had a day off and I was down the Cape driving aimlessly with my fiance just because we could. I was behind the wheel and he was on his phone. As he scrolled Facebook, he wondered out loud what had happened. He read off Facebook statuses of our friends and family members. I called and texted some of my friends who I knew had headed into the city earlier in the day to partake in the annual party that belongs to Boston. All of my friends were okay. I could comprehend my fiance’s words as he looked into and read off the breaking news headlines. I could comprehend that this event was awful and most certainly a tragedy. I could cry because I comprehend that the people and families affected were suffering from total heartbreak and pain. I can empathize with them and speculate that they will be sad for a long time, maybe forever.

But I could and can not comprehend these things the same way everyone who was directly affected by this REAL tragedy are comprehending them. Because when real tragedy happens,  those affected directly are permanently branded, forever. The sense of vulnerability they feel is one billion times more intense than mine because they were the ones who the tragedy struck. They will feel empty without their loved one breathing in the bedroom next to theirs at night. They will feel paranoia like no other because they have already been a part of something terrible happening to them. They will feel like a slab of meat that can be struck and torn apart at any given moment. An extreme I don’t think anyone can comprehend unless they live it.

Someone like me will go through the motions of being indirectly affected by the tragedy. I will feel weird and dazed for a few days as I go through the motions  of my routine life. I will listen to the same radio station, and tear up as they talk about the tragedy. I will stop at the same gas station on Old Colony Avenue in South Boston to get my sugar free Red Bull. I will still sing when Justin Timberlake’s new song comes on during my commute back to my city ten minutes outside Boston, though it will only be bits and pieces whispering the lyrics without really listening, and my windows will be up. But I won’t beep at anyone who fails to let me merge into their lane for a little while, nor will anyone at me. No one has beeped at me, an aggressive, Caucasian, female driver, since Monday. I will just do all of the same meaningless stuff feeling a little empty and vulnerable and pissed off for a while. When I blog about my first world problems, I will feel like even more of a spoiled and jaded douchebag. But my life, and yours will go on because we are alive.

I’m not sure what my point here is. A tragedy happened and this time, it wasn’t in New York City. It was in the city we sometimes complain about commuting to Monday-Friday. The city those who have children bring said children to, to visit museums, and ride Swan Boats, and watch over 26,000 people run annually for thousands of good causes. It is a tragedy that hit too close to home for me and a million others like me. I still cannot wrap my head around this tragedy, but I am so proud to have seen the reaction to this tragedy: togetherness, love, support. I hope and pray that we, as a whole, never lose  the empathy we possess for those who were struck, even if we cannot comprehend the heartbreak and pain firsthand.

So instead of walking quickly through your routine with your head buried in your smart phone in this beautiful weather, walk a little slower, smile more often, say thank you to those men and women standing outside your building downtown with giant guns to protect you from what could have been another potential tragedy, and most of all: be kind. After the events that occurred Monday, we are reminded for a second time since 2001, that our worlds can stop spinning at any moment, and we need that empathy from strangers. beantown

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A Very Quincy Birthday

12 Apr

For some reason, this blog is dedicated to Peter Clarke.

I asked some of my Facebook blog followers what I should do tonight to celebrate my 5th anniversary of turning 21. I was not surprised when the first comment, as well as the most liked comment, suggested that I do Oxycontin. Defeated, I decided to make my own list of shit I can do (that is not Oxycontin) in Quincy to make my 26th birthday as unmemorable as my 1st birthday, and just like every other weekend spent in this fine city. Here it is:

1. Pills. You know, I’m not in the mood for a full blown addiction after my 18th birthday. Let’s scratch number 1.

2. Pregame. Perhaps one of Quincy’s (and every other city in America) most beloved ritual, the pregame gets us feeling *nice before venturing out into the depths of the local dive bar scene. Just get a twelve of probably some form of Bud product at Atlas, because for some bizarre reason just one or two beers before going out is never enough, and sit in someone’s mom’s living room until 10:30 at night before calling the cab company that will not be named but described as “the one with the really bitchy operator” to pick you up.

*nice: unnecessarily drunk

3. Bar hop: Ew, way too many Randolph people are inhabiting some of the Quincy Center bars lately. I mean, I don’t know if they are really Randolph people, maybe Stoughton, but same difference, I think.  So get one beer at your first bar, then complain about how trashy everyone is and how people are dancing in a non-danceable bar, and then head to the next bar (usually located right next door or directly across the street). Repeat this step until you and your friends are in no state of mind to make general observations anymore and are squinting in S6 wondering why it’s not tinted blue anymore and grown men who don’t even work there are screaming at you to get out (side note: no disrespect to S6, place is my favorite in QC, but I had to express how confused I am when it goes from being tinted blue to normally lit so suddenly).

4. Decline Peggy’s &/or JJ’s: Nothing against these establishments (the last time I gave my opinion about a bar, I was nearly sued. And by nearly sued, I mean psychos with zero sense of professionalism were inboxing me on Facebook about “contactin someone” – I think “someone” meant lawyer, but the spelling was too hard to conquer), but nothing good ever happens after last call in Quincy. Then again, one could even argue that nothing good ever happens before last call in Quincy either…so there’s that. But another factor you might want to consider is if you feel like getting coked out of your brain or not. I pass on putting things up my nose, so I tend to decline a trip to a place where I know nine out of ten people will only be happy to see me for unnatural reasons. In my defense, ten out of ten of those people are people I don’t want to see sober or not. Avoid the hangover and skip the after bar. Besides, if I rush out of the parking lot too fast to go somewhere else I might miss a *Quincy fight.

*Quincy fight: A gang of 2 or more manchildren jumping another manchild for looking at one of them the wrong way 4 months prior while trashed in a crowded bar.

5. Fall asleep with a JBC: Nothing says regret like waking up to Wendy’s in or around your bed. Wait, I guess waking up with a JBC next to you on the floor also says regret.

Sounds like I’m going to have a pretty solid birthday, no? And many more to look forward to. Is it lame to stay in?

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Disclaimer: Don’t inbox me accusing me of making Quincy look bad with this blog. I love my hometown and if you can’t laugh about some of it’s weirdness or flaws, then you are probably someone who listens to Dane Cook during long roadtrips to lame places.

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I’ve Discovered The Cure For The Common Hangover!

11 Apr

By God, I’ve got it! The cure for the common hangover!

I went out last night to The Beachcomber to watch my friend Kristen karaoke Justin Timberlake songs in an empty room, and I ended up getting accidentally drunk. It happens. But it sucks when it happens knowing you have a 10 hour day to look forward to in the morning. Once I discovered that I was shitfaced, I quickly sprung into action, calling Ryan to have him pick me and my friend up. Knowing when to leave is key in hangover avoidance. I got home at around 10:30pm. I grabbed a bottle of water and chugged it for a solid 10 seconds. Quenching one’s thirst is key number two. I then grabbed a can of reduced fat sour cream and onion Pringles and took about 9 chips from it. I sat on the couch and ate the chips. Eating something is key number three in hangover avoidance. I then proceeded to the kitchen where I made myself a shake for the morning (I’m on that Shakeology shiz because I’m really into miracles and fad diets). The fourth key to avoiding a hangover is reducing your morning activities by getting them done while drunk the evening before, which is why I also picked out my clothes for work today before going to bed. I brushed my teeth, and then set my alarm on my phone for 6am AND 7am. Why would I set my alarm twice? Because key number five to hangover avoidance is popping an Advil an hour before you have to be up. Plus, don’t we all love that feeling when we wake up and realize that we still have another hour to sleep? Yes, we do. So I slept for another hour then got up, showered with the lighting in my bathroom set on dim, got ready, grabbed my shake, popped a vitamin C and multivitamin and left. Vitamins are essential in hangover avoidance. Why? I don’t know, Google it. Even though it is overcast and disgusting out today, I made sure to put sunglasses on. Key number six is not straining your eyes with light.

As I drove to work I was careful not to listen to KISS108, even while skimming the stations for a good song. Key number seven in hangover avoidance is not listening to Taylor Swift, shitty rap artists, or anything that uses autotune. For your head is a delicate sphere that must not be fucked with in such a fragile state. I made sure to stop and get a sugar free Red Bull on my way. For caffeine is the nectar of the sober Gods, and key number 8! I also made sure not to look through my phone for any traces of regret from the evening before. Peace of mind and acceptance of the night before is key number 9 in hangover avoidance. Once at work, I decided that even though I work on the second floor I should take the elevator. Sure, people probably judged me for this move. But you mustn’t subject yourself to too much labor, like walking up a flight of stairs. A hangover could work it’s way up from the depths of your stomach. The potential to feel like dog shit is too big a risk to ignore these key elements!

So here I am at my desk, not hungover. Not even a little bit. Considering that I did a shot last night, I am feeling pretty accomplished. Next time you find yourself shitfaced at the Comber on a work night, I suggest you heed my advice. Because Gatorade can’t always save you.  Good luck and God speed!

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Why Can’t We Be Friends?

3 Apr

meeting

I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not in the market for new friends. I’m not a bitch, I’m just lazy when it comes to forming new relationships. If it happens, it’s usually out of convenience (we work together, we both date guys that hangout together, etc.). But then there are those people who you meet and immediately think to yourself, “There is NO potential for friendship here”. So who are these people? I’ll tell you who I absolutely cannot be friends with.

1. People who don’t understand the concept of TENTATIVE PLANS. Sometimes when we are ending a hangout sesh with someone, out of habit we say things like, “Let’s do coffee next week!”. That doesn’t mean we have set plans to do coffee next week. It means we have MAYBE plans to do coffee. We didn’t confirm an exact date to get the coffee, we didn’t decide who would drive to the coffee, and we didn’t decide on where we would be drinking the delicious coffee. So I get pretty annoyed when next week hits and without exception, this person who doesn’t understand what tentative means is calling asking if we are still on for coffee. Then they act all hurt when you say that you are kind of spent from a long day at work. They throw the word “ditched” out like we are in 4th grade and don’t get tired after a 50 hour work week. Fuck off, I don’t get coffee, I get beers, and I don’t get beers with you because you get butt-hurt over petty shit like me breaking a coffee date.

2. People who think that you haven’t lived until you have kids. I get it, you have kids and they are your life. Totally normal. But I don’t have kids and nothing is more annoying than when people who have kids insist that life doesn’t start until you pop a few humans out of your vagina. Really?  Because I’m pretty sure that even though I haven’t reproduced yet that I am alive and well and enjoying my time on earth without a spawn of myself mooching off my boobs as well as my paycheck. I’m not living? Whose the one who can book a vacation on a whim that doesn’t involve Storyland, diaper bags, and a Chrysler Town & Country with McDonald’s fries wedged between the seats?! I didn’t judge you for being 16 and pregnant, please don’t judge me for not having children.

3. People who twist what you say for the sake of screaming their opinion at you: Some people think it’s acceptable to scream their opinion at any given time. Do you, girl…but don’t think you don’t look batshit crazy in the process. Even if I agree with you, you are not helping whatever cause you are standing up for by screaming like a total psycho at innocent bystanders.  Example: So one day I am out with this girl, and a friend of ours who has a little boy. Ironically, we were out for coffee. I noted how well behaved the little boy was and absentmindedly say out loud, “I think I want all boys when I have kids, he is SO good!”. I said it without meaning it, and without thinking. I just said it. Of course I love girls and want to have a little girl of my own someday, I was just complimenting this girl on her little boy’s good behavior. Maybe I am just used to the more devious  little girls I’ve babysat in my life, so I accidentally stereotyped, who knows. I’m human and sometimes don’t think before speaking when I feel comfortable. Either way, I didn’t mean to generalize. So this girl FLIPS the fuck out. “ALL BOYS ARE WELL BEHAVED?! THEN WHY ARE THERE MORE MALE PRISONERS VERSUS FEMALE PRISONERS?!?!?!?!”. Um…woah. Not what I was trying to get into. It’s fine to be opinionated, and to stand up for what is right. It’s alright to want equal rights for women, everyone should want that! But stop twisting everything into a black or white picture to fit your agenda. I was complimenting a mother for how well behaved their kid was, and this chick who clearly knows I am not sexist, is ranting and raving about women’s rights like she’s doing women some kind of a favor by screaming at me in a coffee shop with kids and their moms everywhere. I’m with ya, I want women to be treated equal. We don’t need to go busting out prison statistics and crime rates after I note a 3 year old’s good behavior while out in public. Get me the fuck away from someone who needs to pull out a human’s right issue that has nothing to do with anything we are talking about, just so they can get some anger out while I’m trying to enjoy some java. All set with loose cannons. Needless to say, that friendship was terminated after countless freakouts.

4. People who collect from the government and get their nails done more than they apply for jobs. Then again, I can’t even be friends with these people on Facebook, let alone in real life. These people fall under the category of people who take more selfies than they apply for jobs. Here’s an idea: maybe if you spent half as much time on job search engines as you do uploading pictures to Instagram, you’d be the next Mark Zuckerberg by now! But really, I can’t imagine calling one of these people up to vent after a bad day at work, only to hear that they are pissed their unemployment check hadn’t come in yet.

5. People who think ONLY of the opposite sex: How ridiculous when you want to have a girl’s night out with your friends, and there is that one girl who wants to bring her boyfriend, or meet up with the boys after an hour of chilling. Can’t you enjoy the company of other females for ONE NIGHT without seeking attention from the male species? Fo realz. Or when you are having a good time at a bar and some of your guy friends want to leave because their aren’t enough hot females there for them to look at. Sometimes it feels like no one can have a good platonic time anymore. Maybe I just feel this way because I’m not single, though. I’ll give them that…

So yeah, if you exhibit any of the above behavior then maybe that’s why we can’t be friends =) But I’m sure you don’t want to be friends with me either. Who am I kidding?!

http://youtu.be/XRGd0gD0QNE

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