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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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Abercrombie & Fitch Doesn’t Want Fat Chicks Wearing Abercrombie & Fitch. Shocker.

9 May

I’m absolutely going to get shit from someone for this…fuck it.

I am more than a little confused as to how anyone who is sharing this article: Abercrombie & Fitch basically hates fat chicks, is surprised. Yeah, the CEO sounds like a douche. But so aren’t most people who wear Abercrombie & Fitch over the age of 18. My first mission when I started dating my fiance was to have an intervention on him to get him to stop wearing A&F. Seriously though, A&F has always hated fat chicks. I mean, their size large is pretty much the equivalent to an extra small everywhere else. Don’t feel too bad if you can’t fit into their $40 “slightly destroyed” t-shirts, most of America is fat so maybe they’ll lose some business. Unless this was an extreme marketing ploy to garner attention and get more business, in which case A&F 1, fat chicks 0. It is a fact (at least I thought it was) that A&F has always been totally open about hiring based on superficial qualifications, and honest about their blatant racism.

Girls who can’t fit into A&F clothes should be rejoicing that they no longer have to be subjected to an overload of terrible, seizure-inducing beats, cologne that smells like you are present in a car during the Summer while teenagers are fornicating to LFO, and clothes that are described on a scale of slightly, to moderately, to completely destroyed. I  hate to brag, but I can fit into a large at A&F, but I don’t like paying for someone to rip my pants. And back when I could fit into a medium at A&F (1999ish), I didn’t do it, because I was an Old Navy Girl growing up. And by “Old Navy Girl” I mean poor.

What we as a society should really be outraged about it that Lane Bryant is neglecting skinny chicks!!! Get angry, skinny bitches!!!!  Get real angry!

When I met you I said my name is Keiffa, you look like the girl from Abercrombie & Fitch.

delp

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#90sGirlProblems

30 Apr

So I was babysitting this weekend and watched Rugrats at the ass crack of dawn because the rugrat I was babysitting is really into it right now. At first I felt nostalgic and wanted to go to Icecream Mountain (and by “go to Icecream Mountain” I mean drop acid and eat a pint of Ben and Jerry’s). Then I felt psychotic because Stu Pickles’s pants were so flooded that I had to physically leave the room.

stuIt was almost as bad as that time Doug Funnie wore a three quarter length shirt under his sweater vest. This time period has a direct correlation with me having my first drink.

dougI mean, does caring about the poor fashion choices of 90′s cartoons make me a bitch? Could my name really be…Ashley?

ashley

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I Will Never Leave This City.

26 Apr

So my new “thing” is looking up houses for sale online when I’m supposed to be blogging/doing literally everything else I’m supposed to be doing. I 100% know that I cannot afford to buy a house right now, maybe if I would stop ripping the tags off my Marshall’s clothes before trying them on I will be able to afford something in the two hundred thousand range by 2019 (probably not because I don’t save receipts either), but a girl can dream, right? Anyways, I’ve had a few towns on my list of “Places That I would Settle For That Aren’t Quincy”, and those places are basically everywhere except Randolph, Holbrook, and Brockton.  I won’t list my reasoning, because it’s Friday and I’m not in the mood for an inbox full of white trash defending their turf because it’s home to a Piccadilly Pub and one of the Massasoits. Does that make me a snob? No. It makes me a realist who embraces stereotypes of the South Shore and is also in denial of her own city’s flaws. Otherwise known as a “douchebag”.

Anyways, I feel like at some point I will have to prepare myself for the inevitable: leaving Quincy. But it’s going to be hard to figure out where  to go, and my standards are very vague other than knowing I won’t commute much further than 5 seconds outside of  Boston. Based on my list of every city/town other than Randolph, Holbrook, and Brockton, I’ve realized I need to narrow down my options. I give Weymouth way too much shit to ever attempt driving a Uhaul over the Fore River Bridge. That and I don’t want to live in a town that leaves you to fend for yourself for up to twenty minutes on route 3A because a sail boat is trying to get by. Oh, and imagine checking into a place called “N Dub” on social media? As if I  were on 8 Mile Road instead of the predominantly Caucasian suburb that is Weymouth? No thanks. Braintree is cool,  it’s home to the mall and in general, I am a mall fan. But it’s about as pricey as Quincy, so why even bother switching to a town that has a school mascot called a Wamp? Milton is also nice, but I’m not really over that time it’s citizens picketed outside that restaurant in East Milton Square to “keep Quincy out of Milton”, in regards to a liquor license. East Milton needs to be put in it’s place and just accept the fact that a place that is in 5 minutes walking distance of Atlas Liquors, a 7-11, and Dairy Freeze might as well just secede from it’s town and become another section of Quincy, gang sign and all.

To conclude, unless I decide that I’d rather throw down the money to live in Hingham and own a boat than have children, it looks like I am just never leaving Quincy. A sobering thought, but I think I’m okay with it. Making adult decisions based off of superficial bullshit that I create in my own mind sure is hard. Mom’s spaghetti!

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Wait…Why Isn’t It Summer?

18 Apr

Spring can go away now. I just want to be sitting on a deck in America with a bucket of Coronas. Why is that so hard? Marina season commence! April is for the birds. And by birds I mean freaks who enjoy sitting on a deck in America on a day that feels like it’s 80 degrees until realizing that sitting on a deck by a body of water actually feels like 40 degrees with wind. I was guilty of this yesterday, sitting on a cold deck like some kind of a douchebag, so I guess I’m a bird. If you’re a bird, I’m a bird.

…What was I talking about again?

marina

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Get Drunk On A Roof Deck Weather

8 Apr

fedora

It’s that time of year again. You know, that time of year that we get one or two warm days a week so we transform into full blown alcoholics who want to day drink on roof decks, patios, and all other outdoor surfaces. It’s a hard time of year for us full time 9-5 schmucks. All day long we sit here at our jobs, fucking around on the internet pretending we are important while behind our screen shields our Facebooks are up so we can enviously creep on those who work nights and get to enjoy the weather. We vow that we will call out sick the next time weather permits for the Marina, but deep down inside, we know we are pussies who won’t call out sick based on the fear that one of our ass-hat friends will check us in to Port 305 for all of our coworkers to see. So instead we will put up passive aggressive statuses that insinuate that everyone who is basking in the sun is somehow mooching off the government and should focus on getting a job like the rest of us professionals. Then we will go on our lunch breaks and search for maxi dresses online for us to not wear this summer because maxi dresses aren’t appropriate for the office, because we know that’s where will will spend 90% of our Summer, and we don’t have casual Fridays at our office. Maybe we will walk downtown for an hour on lunch, stop in at H&M and purchase a floppy hat or straw fedora to make ourselves feel better. But probably not, because an object sitting on our heads will only serve to remind us that even when we are off on the weekend, it will probably be overcast. That fedora will just sit on the back speaker in our cars, overheating in the sun while we slave away in an air conditioned building, sipping melted iced coffees. Life is hard. My soul hurts.

Woah, that was depressing. Here’s hoping we get some beach weather Saturdays in this year so I never write something so bitter again. Until then, feel free to choke on your week day Bloody Mary. Jerk.

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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

A Simple Equal Sign.

26 Mar

Unless you’re a total serial killer, or just a normal person who doesn’t care about social networks (either or since they are so close on the continuum), I am going to go ahead and assume you’ve logged into Facebook today. You have found my blog, so that is usually a pretty good indicator of social media activity, right? I am all over the fucking internet. But anyways, if you’ve logged into Facebook today, you’ve probably seen this all over your newsfeed (unless you are only friends with members of the Westboro Baptist Church on Facebook):

equalAnd unless you live under a rock, you probably know that this symbol stands for marriage equality. I don’t feel like briefing anyone on this, so just Google “Prop 8″ if you don’t know what is going on in current events. I don’t normally fall for this social media propaganda that everyone shares. But this time is different. I was perusing Wedding Paper Divas (think invitations and save the dates galore) online during my lunch today, as I do most days since getting engaged,  when it struck me that not everyone can experience this feeling as easily as I can. The feeling I am talking about is the excitement and optimism that I feel towards my future with the person that I love. I hope that everyone (who wants to) is able to experience this feeling in their lifetime because it is fucking euphoric and probably comparable to most drugs. I especially hope my friends can feel this because I am biased towards them of course (thankfully, I live in Massachusetts). Everyone has the right to pursue happiness – though I am unsure pursuing happiness is a wise idea, rather I believe in seeking fulfillment. Seeking happiness can set us up for disaster, but that’s another blog…

Anyways, I don’t usually fall for this Facebook stuff that is shared hundreds of thousands of times without any real meaning. But like I said, this was different. This simple picture of an equal sign represents equality. It’s a basic human right, and though I know it’s insane that it’s still debated in the land of the free, it’s a reality. Some people don’t get it, I’m not sure why. Maybe they are bigoted, ignorant, or just unaffected by it. How silly I feel even typing this but, I have a lot of gay friends. I know it’s just a profile picture that I changed on Facebook and will probably change back to a picture of me and my fiance smiling, drinks in hand, within a few days. I know that this picture of a red equal sign won’t change any laws, or right any wrongs, but when I was busy feeling guilty about planning the day I’ve been dreaming about since I was a little girl, I couldn’t help but put myself in the shoes of someone who is having a pain in the ass of a time planning due to legal issues. I can’t help but think that had I been in their shoes, that I would feel so overwhelmed with support when signing onto Facebook and seeing a sea of red equal signs all of my newsfeed. Hey, everyone says “it’s the small things”, right? I think this is one of those things on a much bigger scale. Of course there is always that token contrarion on Facebook who find something to bitch about, I’ve seen a few ranting about Facebook activism. But it’s not about activism without initiative. It’s about awareness and support, which is necessary sometimes in being heard. Does a sign of awareness and support REALLY bother people? If so, it kind of reminds me that some people are bothered by other peoples’ relationships for some reason. I am not saying that if you don’t post the picture on your Facebook that you are a bigot or not in support of equal rights. That would be as ridiculous as I think it is to debate equal rights in the first place. Do whatever you want to do, on social media or better: in real life!

Anyone saying that changing your profile picture won’t change gay marriage laws, I totally get that. It’s a Facebook profile picture, so I’m sure it won’t. If laws changed due to Facebook trends, I am sure we would be in a lot of trouble in some circumstances (ie: people who don’t like pitbulls would be stoned to death). I mean, wasn’t the whole Kony thing a big lesson in social media causes? Case in point. But if changing my profile picture for a little while is enough for my gay friends to be reminded that I support them and want them to be fulfilled in their lives, then it’s literally the least I can do. Maybe someday we won’t have to plaster pictures of equal signs on social media so that everyone feels equal. In a perfect world, right?

(PS: It’s literally been a day of equal sign sharing, can’t the people who feel gay marriage is “being shoved down their throats” just pretend the symbol is equivalent to the small population of people on Twitter who don’t change from egg default to real picture? It’s just been ONE day and coincidentally all the same people sending me  Farmville requests and blowing up my newsfeed with Candy Crush bullshit are the ones who can’t handle it. Sorry if we mucked up your newsfeed with civil rights support while you were trying to get whatever the fuck currency you need to maintain your virtual farm/city/addictions. Christ…)

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Your Life Would Make A Shitty Reality Show

25 Mar

I find it kind of smug when ordinary people say that their lives would make a good reality show. It takes a lot to make a reality show good enough to watch, what makes people think that they could be some break out star because something ordinary happens to them? People are all like, “Pretty sure I just got out of getting a ticket because the cop saw my cleavage! I swear I could have my own TV show!” or “Ate a box of Caramel Delights to the dome, couldn’t make this stuff up! Need my own show!” or “The kids are being wild today!!! Three wild and crazy boys under the age of 8 running around with water guns!!!! We could have a show on TLC!!!!”. Um, no. Your life is boring/sounds like hell on earth, and your show would be boring. And if your life isn’t boring, you should at least know that no one gives a shit about your kids. Didn’t you catch that “spontaneous” meatball fight on Southie Rules? Your show would be about as funny as that scene. Besides being wicked at catching tuna, the key ingredient to a solid reality show is the cast’s ability to literally not give one fuck. You need to be willing to be seen as the bad guy. You need to talk about bodily functions in front of a national audience that includes both your grandmothers and not give a fuck. You need to be willing to make yourself into a Heidi Montag-esque creature then disown your mom in front of a country. You need to be willing to act like a total trash bag hick from West Virginia, banging dudes on a friend’s bed in front of an MTV crew and be totally nonchalant about it. And you need an entire group of friends who give even less of a fuck. If you aren’t willing to get arrested, bullied, degraded, f*cked, or at least fake these events to the point that you’re in USWeekly, then your show would suck. Sorry that you got locked out of your apartment like everyone else in the world has done at some point or sorry you peed the bed this weekend and had a friend tape it in an attempt at getting on The Bad Girls Club, but Snookie and JWoww pee inside local establishments behind the bar in front of a camera. You’re not outrageous, you’re just a slob and no one is going to give you a show. I mean, you have the right to know. Carry on.

Love Always,

Simon Cowell

…Now that I think of it, I’m pretty sure I said out loud to my friends: “We would have a pretty good reality show, you guys!” over lunch this weekend. There ARE exceptions (Mtv: call me, maybe?).

jwoww

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This Is What Happens To Your Bedroom When You Move Out Of Your Parents House…

25 Mar

When I moved out of my parents’ house, I knew that my childhood bedroom would end up becoming a spare room for my niece to throw all of her shit in, but good God…

bedroom5bedroom4bedroom3bedroom2bedroom1 dollclownwtf

Where is my powder puff jersey and why are those dolls sitting with horses in the nude?! I have to sleep in this room the night before my wedding. Can we remove the clown so I’m not totally freaked when the lights from the street hit it at 3am?

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