Friday, May 29, 2009

Top 5 Things I Currently Don't Care About (and never will)

1. The details about the tires on my car. I just know I need new ones okay? Don't cloud my thoughts of rainbows and butterflies and vodka with specifics.

2. Where you bought your khaki pants from. I didn't even know people still wear khaki pants.

3. Jon Plus Kate 8. These people are so irrelevant I can't even stand that I mention them.

4. Mafia wars/pokes/hugs/cupcakes sent to me via facebook. Pretend cyber cake? What is the purpose?

5. 100 calorie snack packs. It's called an apple. 

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Oh Good, Insight by Jessica Simpson

Apparently Jessica Simpson is coming back to reality television, and this time the purpose is to give insightful opinion. Yes, you just read that correctly.

I have nothing against Jessica, in fact, I like her as much as you can like someone you really don't know. She's cute, talented, and doesn't seem to pretend to be something she's not. She could probably use some fashion assistance (call me Jess), but other than that she's harmless as far as celebrities go. 

Word on the celebrity blog street are that she and a buddy are going around the nation finding beautiful people and what makes them beautiful. And that's the television show. Could anything be more boring? Maybe we should just watch a picture slide show of Jessica in Daisy Duke's for an hour each Tuesday night- it would be 50% more entertaining than this concept. 

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

I'm That Girlfriend

As I sit here on the couch with my boyfriend's roommate (while my boyfriend is at the Puma store), watching the basketball play-offs and talking about the trials and tribulations of dating, I realize that I'm that girlfriend. The girlfriend that is always around. Oh no.

I've been a girl who hangs with guys. It started when I got my glittery job as a Pizza Hut chef at 16 years old and I found myself the affirmative action member of the team. The other females were servers or order takers, not pizza makers. Perhaps Pizza Hut corporate was weary of the fair gender getting hold of pizza cutters...but whatever the case, I found myself surrounded by males and become "one of them". This carried on, well, forever. Giving me insight into the male mind. And this insight has granted me access to millions of conversations about the chicks guys date. And the chicks guys date that are always around. Her offenses vary and are many, but she invades the air and male space of guy camaraderie everywhere, stinking it up with her lotiony smells and stupid comments about athletes being "cute" or asking "wait, we want the white jersey team to win?" in the middle of a game. Her laugh echos a little louder, her shoes take up a little more space, and she never screws the caps on the condiments completely. She's everywhere her boyfriend is and isn't, and of course it's because that girlfriend has some sort of evil control over him making him buy only organic fruit and forcing him to invite her to nights out where only wing men are needed. Yup- she's that girlfriend. 

And that girlfriend is me. 
(But of course that girlfriend is not really me. But I see what they see.) 

Monday, May 25, 2009

Experiencing Awe in Unexpected Places. Like Iowa.

Restrain yourself from bubbles of jealousy, but I got to go to Iowa last weekend. Yup, deep in the heart of never never land I was, smack dab in a good 'ol Iowan wedding. Don't be judgemental- there were neither cows nor corn involved. The wedding itself was actually quite lovely, held in a lush green park with a fountain behind, the bride & groom exchanging forevers with nature's blessing. Yet as I had prepared myself mentally for typical wedding fare (avoiding the bouquet toss, going to the bathroom anytime Electric Slide plays, figuring out a way to get champagne at a wedding not serving champagne, making my plate appear full with broccoli) I found bits and pieces of awe. Moments unexpected in my carefully calculated expectations. And this awe struck down at me at none other than the Lucky Lounge.

Just so happened our Best Western hotel didn't only offer an indoor pool and free continental breakfast, but also housed the most popular nightclub in the city. Walking into the nightclub felt a bit like a Billy Ocean music video on crack: laser lights in shades of neon, poles descending from the ceiling, if not fog the definite feeling of fog, and paintings of people on the walls with various body parts actually protruding in 3D fashion. And, of course, a dance floor with mirrors. Let me be clear: Lucky Lounge is not a strip club. No strippers. Just the intense aura that scantily clad ladies are hiding behind the mirrors. I really and truly slipped stunned into sobriety. What was this weird place? I half expected John Travolta and Uma Thurman to start dancing ala Pulp Fiction. And then there were the brides. In my short time, I saw 3 brides in this tiny little dungeon complete with wedding parties. And were they smoking in the bar too? Not sure. After 15 minutes in this mad house I found my way to the swivel chairs, plopped myself down and proceeded to watch club goers do a line dance under laser lights while freakishly multiplying around me in the surrounding mirrors. What. A. Scene. 

And so my moment of awe. The juxtaposition of an innocent state of farmers, a pure and beautiful wedding, and perhaps the strangest bar scene I will ever witness. Awe in Iowa- who knew?

Friday, May 22, 2009

Deep Thoughts By Girl Twentiesh

"It hurts to be kicked in the stomach, it really does."

Thursday, May 21, 2009

Do Men See What They Want to See and Blur Out The Rest?

Last weekend a friend of mine was greeted by an out-of-town friend in a very complimentary manner. He told her, "Looking great as always! The hair, the sisters (her chest)..." 

The friend being a jovial go-with-the-flow type of girl took the compliments with open arms, but couldn't help but reply, "What about my face? I have a face too you know!" There were laughs, and he of course then followed up by saying her face also looked lovely.

I couldn't help but conjure up a ridiculous image after this story was relayed to me. I imagined when a man spots a woman, the parts (legs, chest, lips, collarbone) that he finds attractive are somehow exaggerated and brightened, while the rest of her becomes blurred out. So in my friend's instance, all he saw was this white-blonde hair and a rather large rack. The rest just blurred into pretty colors. This would greatly explain late night bar mistakes when a man takes home a woman (he being in an overly intoxicated state) to wake up and discover she really was more than just two super long lean legs...but something less appealing than he had mistakenly imagined. What a powerful and optimistic power this may be. But it explains so much!

I thought this imagery was quite funny. And possibly spot on. Yet, when I shared my opinion with a male friend, his response was, "Oh, well, if that's the case I guess all women see is dollar signs coming out of a man's mouth while he talks."

Now that's just being plain silly. 

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Anna Wintour of Vogue Thinks Minnesota Needs an Anorexia Problem

This is special.

Editor-in-Chief of Vogue magazine, and widely publicized as being somewhat of a witch, recently opened up to US Magazine. Anna Wintour admitted that she uses stick thin models in her spreads, but suggested she (and her magazine) are aware of body issues.  She went on to say:

"I'd just been on a trip to Minnesota, where I can only kindly describe most of the people I saw as little houses. There's such an epidemic of obesity in the United States, and for some reason, everybody focuses on anorexia."

Ok. There are obese people EVERYWHERE lady. Granted you'd probably strike a person down with lightening bolts should they enter your immediate radius packing an extra 5 lbs, but I am willing to bet that people in the real world of New York are also obese. And where exactly were you in Minnesota? The Iron Range? I ran around Lake Calhoun yesterday and did not see 1 obese person, and, certainly no one who appeared to look like a little house. But I understand that my immediate environment doesn't dictate an accurate example of the population as a whole.

I agree obesity is just as much, if not more, of a problem as anorexia. But let's look at the real issue behind both of these diseases: Personal issues with control (needing or lacking), self-esteem, environment and life experience, and dumb asses like Anna Wintour riding her high horse and giving her unwarranted versions as what she sees as truth. Spare us your opinion and go back to what you do best- receiving botox injections, eating 1/2 a grapefruit a day, and picking out your fur coat for the gala to save albino squirrels. 

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Long Live Date Night

Never underestimate the power of date night.

It starts as tweens hanging out in groups. Somehow you and another end up "going out", which basically means sneaking off to a corner and making out. Sometimes on chair lifts, from what I've heard anyway. I of course didn't make out until I was 18. Then you get your first boyfriend and dates consist of TGI Fridays and then hanging out with friends. In college nobody goes on dates. I can't even figure out what I did in college- I dated people- but that consisted of meeting up at 10pm in some bar after a bottle of Admiral Nelson's spiced rum & diet cherry coke. But if you were dating someone, you just tended to meet up with the same fella night after night. Your college experience may have been different...

Sometime after college "real" dating occurs. I remember when a first date asked to pick me up and I was appalled at the suggestion. Like I'm going to let some stranger pick me up from my house. One- I don't want you knowing where I live until we've been dating at least 3 months, two- I don't trust you driving me yet, three -I need to be able to escape when necessary. But nevertheless, as you mature to a certain age/status/life stage you begin to really appreciate the Date Night. For me, part is the fact that someone else took the time to plan something for me. I don't care if you've been dating a week or a decade- knowing someone took effort to plan an experience around you makes you feel special. And feeling special is nice. I believe we get so caught up in life and work and must-see television that we forget the value of spending real time together. And the value of showing effort, initiative. When my boyfriend wants to plan time alone with me (which he has successfully done two consecutive nights) I feel the excitement I had as a tween wondering if so-and-so liked me, but in a real world tangible way. And, I feel special. Even if the night ends with him eating double-stuffed mint Oreos while watching The Bachelorette.

Monday, May 18, 2009

Choose Your Own Adventure, At the Bar

Have you ever noticed a night at the bar is like a Choose Your Own Adventure novel?

This past weekend's adventure brought me to Chicago, and more specifically, a special area aptly nicknamed "The Viagra Triangle". At the juxtaposition of expensive shops, hotels and restaurants lies an area infused with older gentlemen and younger ladies. My late night dinner plans dropped us smack dab in the action at an old school Italian place packed with music, people and laughter. As I descended the stairs into the pit & bar area, eager for my first sip of champagne, I couldn't help but notice I was surrounded by my prime demographic. Old men. Don't get me wrong- I absolutely adore grandpas. I would choose a gang of old WWII vets to spend the afternoon playing Euchre with over those of my own age. But I also historically seem to catch the eye of those older gentlemen interested in snagging a female rather than reminiscing the depression era.

I maneuvered myself into a tiny area between a couple making out and two older gentlemen dining at the bar and patiently waited to catch the bartender's attention. Before I could pretend to be studying a menu, the man next to me struck up a chat.

"I have to tell you, you are beautiful." Of course I blush, look down, anything to divert the attention. Creepy or not, it's always nice to be told you're beautiful.

"Oh, well, thank you." I replied.

And of course, the conversation didn't stop there. I'll spare you the details. But, once he and his friend discovered I was drinking champagne, they offered to buy me a BOTTLE of Veuve. My favorite. And, very expensive. Politely I declined. In my mind, letting a man buy you a drink is letting them buy your time. As a woman with a boyfriend, I find this misleading and inappropriate. My boyfriend, however, would probably like it if I had other men buy me drinks so he didn't have to so much....regardless, I had to wonder- what would have happened had I allowed them to buy me the bottle? Where would the night have gone? One man was a writer, as I fancy myself once and awhile, and perhaps he could have hooked me up with connections? Who knows? Instead I went back with my friends, waited another 1.5 hours for a table, and ended the night with a crushing migraine. 

But you have to wonder sometimes about these moments, where a choice alters the entire path...

Friday, May 15, 2009

The Joy That is Girls' Weekend

Email chains going on for weeks debating various fashion choices, timelines for arrival, and predicting who will pass out in the garden. Jabs at those who embarrassed themselves last year. Who is more likely to have issues handling their liquor? Ah, the beauty of planning a girls' weekend.

Today I jet off to the windy city for my third annual Chicago weekend adventure. A weekend only- yet a year in the making. Five girls and a whole lot a trouble. As soon as we stumble home rugged and ragged from last year's fun, we're already looking ahead to the next year. This is the joy of a girls' weekend! Who cares that it's only a few days? We can anticipate and plan with the best of them all in the good spirit of just being excited

See ya suckers!

Thursday, May 14, 2009

The Old Lady in the Bar Bathroom (Me)

Last night I was out having a couple cocktails with the boys. You're probably wondering why on a Wednesday night? Well, I don't discriminate against weeknights. We hit up a new corner bar in town that has been promising to stay low key and casual. However, low key and casual no more. The place flooded with chicks dressed to the nines. Cleavage here, tons of MAC lipgloss, and lots of fake hairpieces. Then there I was, sporting a very casual sweatshirt type top. Ripped jeans. Hair that made a guy tell me I reminded him of Sarah Jessica Parker. No flat iron here. I was ill prepared for the impromptu bar appearance.  Oh well. As my fellow beer drinking partner reminded me, I already have the greatest boyfriend in the world- so it's not like I'm looking for men. (FYI boys- I dress for myself, not to pick up men)

The kicker of the evening came while using the restroom. I patiently waited in line while the two stalls served as telephone booths to drunk girls calling everyone they know. As I finally took my turn, I heard the following conversation outside my door:

"Oh my gosh, don't you feel old? I mean, there are like 18 year olds at my work." screeched a female voice.

"Well, how old are you?" asked another high pitched voice.

"Well, I'm only 22, but I feel soooo old now."

"I'm 24, so yeah, I am totally old for bartending."

Had this been a movie, I would have dramatically opened the door as the girls swiveled their heads in shock to see, to their horror, a woman in her upper twenties had been in the bathroom the whole time! The world would freeze, music would screech.

But instead, I studied the girl's unfortunate choice of belted plaid shirt as a dress, and secretly felt thankful that I am no longer 22. Then I drank another Miller Light.

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Does Anyone Care if Miss California is Topless?

If you haven't heard, there's some big scandal on the Miss USA pageant. Actually, I'm not sure if it's Miss USA or Miss America...whatever. Anyway, apparently Miss California could be de-throned of her title because partially nude pics have surfaced of her on the web. According to the pageant bible, this is a big no-no and grounds for dismissal.

Let me get this straight.

It's perfectly fine for the Miss USA California organization to PAY for her to have fake boobs implanted to show off to the world in a swimsuit while parading around a stage on national television, but it is NOT okay for her to show those expensive additional pieces of anatomy on her free time. What, are they personal property of the state of California?


If the Miss USA pageant can allow extreme idiocy (have you seen their interview answers?) to represent the organization, they can allow the girls to use their assets to the best of their abilities. I'm more offended by interview answers than any pictures of their fake chests.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

There Should Be Laws on Facebook Statuses

Today while skimming the thoughts of the 300 something Facebook friends who are dying to tell me what they are doing/thinking/avoiding RIGHT NOW, I came across the following Facebook status:

                          "I am getting my period today and am really crabby..."

What? What? What?

Remember when uttering the word "period" was tabu? When we'd go to all lengths to disguise our womanly function? Now it's ok to tell everybody you've ever known that aunt flo has come to town? No with a capital N. Call me old fashioned, but bring me back to the days of secrets. If there were ever a reason to label Too Much Information (or TMI as the kids are saying) this would most definitely be the time. 


Friday, May 8, 2009

Personal Grooming in Public?

I've reflected on my last few weeks of posts and felt as if I were complaining a bit. But, as the title of this blog suggests, this is my horrible rotten no good very bad terrible twenties, and I feel my keen sense of awareness does justice in bringing out via cyber word the atrocities surrounding us. And, I no longer have a day job, thus copious amounts of time to reflect and gather.

Which brings me to an alarming break in social code: personal grooming in public.

Yesterday a dear friend was merely trying to spend her lunch hour in well tailored garment elation as she visited her friendly J Crew retailer at a local mall. However, as visions of pop candy cardigans danced in her head, she was abruptly snapped out of retail happiness and into a vision of disgusting magnitude- a woman FLOSSING HER TEETH while working a Proactive booth. Yes miss, please hand me the zit cream with a side of your plaque. Gross gross gross!

Never should one groom themselves in public, particularly when working. Has our society of blue jeans ($200 ones at that) become so lax that anything goes? Are we going to start allowing copulation in public too? I mean, do people simply not have enough time to groom themselves in the privacy of their bathroom that they must do so on public time? Suddenly the absence of a great public transportation system in my city sounds like an advantage. Commuting while the chick next to me puts Nair on her legs sounds very unappealing. 

If you're out their Proactive girl, listen up. I'd much rather notice a bit of lettuce in your teeth than watch you perform dental work while selling me personal facial products. Take it to the bathroom. When in question if it's appropriate in public by default means it's not!

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

Weddings That Keep On Giving, and Giving

I was alerted to a new trend this past weekend, something I can honestly admit I've never heard of before. In fact, when my friend told me I was stunned speechless- not knowing whether to burst out laughing and make a smart ass comment or simmer in the sentimentality. 

For her Saturday plans, my friend was going to a "Relive Your Wedding Party" in which all former brides congregate with wedding albums, wedding videos, and other scraps of paraphernalia to share in reminiscing of each bride's glorious day in unison. Is this really a good idea? I see a potential recipe for disaster. 

As a professional wedding-goer myself, I know very well the intense scrutiny and perfection that goes into a wedding day. I know that for a year we pour over color swatches and paper choices and chair covers in hopes of piecing together the perfect jigsaw puzzle of The Wedding of The Century. Once the blessed day arrives and all unfolds...well...generally there are some after thoughts. In the days, weeks following the wedding day the bride has doubts, questions. Did that ice sculpture really look good? Should I have went with a cheesecake bar instead of passed cupcakes? Why didn't people dance to our third song? MAYBE THEY HATED MY WEDDING!?!?

You see where I'm going with this. 

So once six or so years have passed, I would think most would be content in their wedding day. But gather round with four neighbor ladies who had fathers pay with oil money for their weddings and I think something disastrous could happen. Suddenly your Vera Wang is dowdy and you're totally jealous over the Ralph Lauren Signature Collection the lady two doors down had. Then what happens? You go home and tell your husband you want a renewal of vows ceremony and you'll be flying to NYC to the Dolce & Gabbana store for a new dress. Oh, and you might as well decide its time to upgrade the bling on your ring.

So far, I haven't heard the aftermath. Perhaps they just drank wine, laughed, cried, and were done with it.

Friday, May 1, 2009

My Dad on Facebook?

Today I got another one of those emails from a facebook friend "suggesting I may know someone" and become friends with them. Usually I ignore these, as if someone really wants to be my friend, they should get off their cyber laziness and invite me themselves. However, today, I had to flex this rule.

This facebook request came from my brand new step-sister, saying:

Miss Step-sister recently became friends with Your Father and thinks you may know Your Father too.
To view this friend suggestion and request Your Father as a friend, follow the link below:

The Facebook Team

What the what? A new world we live in when my step-sister is suggesting I may want to become friends with my dad. None her fault- she's probably just trying to get him socialized. Although he still hasn't mastered Microsoft Word, bless his heart, so this'll be a feat. 

If he starts sending me hugs via email I'm going to lose it.