The Grass May Be Richer, But It’s Not Always Greener

Guys, I’m back! No, I wasn’t trying to be the douchey boyfriend who suddenly drops off the face of the Earth and quits calling for no reason while you sit patiently waiting for them to come back (just so you know, they are never coming back). Instead, my laptop rudely decided it was time for us to part ways. It had been a fun run together, but I have begrudgingly accepted it’s for the best.

That being said, I am back with a new computer, and better yet, new topics I can’t wait to tackle with all my lovelies out there. For starters, we urgently need to address whatever the hell is happening in Hollywood at the current moment! The number of couples splitting up is increasing at a rate that my heart simply cannot take.

The Way They Were...

                                                            The Way They Were…

I mean, when Jen and Ben announced to the world that they were splitting, that ALONE was enough to make me retreat into the fetal position, shut the blinds, and crawl to my bed where I could cry into my Ben & Jerry’s in peace. But then, Blake and Miranda sneak up OUT OF NOWHERE and punch me right in the face when I’m not even looking. That was just a bitch move. Give us some warning, people! It’s the least you can do!

On top of that we have Kourtney and Scott, Gwen and Gavin, Reba and whatever-her-husband’s-name is (“Here’s your one chance, Fancy did let him down”-I couldn’t resist, sorry.), and now today Brian Austin Green and Megan Fox announced they are going their separate ways! Seriously, who breaks up with David Silver? Ugh, I hope he finds his Donna Martin and they can live happily ever after together. But, back to the topic at hand…What is wrong with you people?!? Oh what, all your money, good looks, nice things, and luxury vacations aren’t enough?!? What does this mean for the rest of us “normal” people in the world?!

Me learning of Ben and Jen

   Me learning of Ben and Jen

As my poor husband can attest, I have been lamenting over these aforementioned tragedies for weeks. I will be the first to admit that I am maybe a bit too enmeshed with Hollywood. When any couple from the Bachelor/Bachelorette franchise break up (which is alllllll.the.time.), I feel as though my own best friend got her heart broke. (But Kaitlyn and Shawn really will make it you guys. For real this time. I mean it.) I pride myself on keeping up with the Kardashians like the best of them. And oh, what’s that you say? Julianne Hough just got engaged? Yup, already knew that yesterday. UsMagazine automatically comes up on my internet browser; it makes me feel all giddy every time I patiently wait for the photos to load. So, all this heartbreak got me to thinking…why do I care so much?

As pathetic as it is, I found myself asking, somewhat frantically, “Doesn’t anybody stay together anymore?!” And then it hit me. These are not normal people. Yes, they have feelings and emotions like everyone else. Sure, they are heartbroken and thinking how daunting it sounds to move on and start over. BUT their lives are not normal. They spend weeks/months apart. They are constantly in the public eye. They cannot go buy a carton of milk without TMZ popping out from behind a runaway shopping cart. Every single thing they do on a daily basis is examined with a microscope. Every action is analyzed and results in constant speculation. How could that not destroy a relationship over time? Just think if that were you…BREAKING NEWS: Amanda Swenson pumped her own gas AND bought a King Size Twix bar. What does this mean for her marriage? Headed for divorce?!?

Just look at this picture of Ben and Jen at Disneyland over the weekend (which brings up a whole other aspect of putting up a “united front”; you know Jen wants to gauge Ben’s eyes out. Give up the charade, you aren’t fooling a soul.). They are at Disneyland, the happiest damn place in the world, and he looks like he would rather risk contracting tetanus by pulling out his teeth with a pair of rusty pliers.

rs_560x415-150818131747-1024.Jennifer-Garner-Ben-Affleck-Disneyland.ms.081815_copy

The point of my tirade is this: you are not these people. You do not live in their world. So whether your significant other is your spouse, your dog, or Total Divas, appreciate it, love the shit out of it, and keep the outside world out of the relationship. And thank God, you aren’t ever photographed buying milk in your sweatpants, without makeup.

But PLEASE leave the velour sweatpants at home. Thank you.

     But PLEASE leave the velour sweatpants at home. Thank you.

Until next time…

Cut the Bull.

Sweatpants, hair tied, chillin’ with no makeup on, that’s when you’re the prettiest.” -Drake

Everyone has heard it. Every female has been annoyed by it. And most of them, I would hope, don’t believe that shit for one second. Apparently, Drake has never been around myself in the above situation. I am the queen of all aforementioned activities (or lack thereof). I can make it look effortless and disgusting. It is an art that I was lucky enough to be gifted with.

For starters, I could live in sweatpants every hour of every day for the rest of my life. You think I’m kidding, I’m not. You want to know what the best feeling in the world is? Coming home after a long day of work. You’re tired. You have a headache. You make your way up the steps and begin to quicken your pace for you know the bliss that is about to unfold. You start to unbutton those hot, jagged pieces of metal that have been digging into your stomach all damn day, while still in transit to the closet. Finally, you slip on what feels like hundreds of little cherubs, gently massaging your legs, and suddenly, all is right with the world.

To continue, I have more pairs of sweatpants than pants. I hate jeans. I think every pair that ever existed should be burned. Whoever invented these horrific torture devices and gave human beings the idea they had to wear them daily, clearly is the spawn of Satan. Don’t even get me started on my argument questioning why it is acceptable for toddlers and the elderly to wear sweatpants and track suits, but God forbid I wear a pair of yoga pants to work.

Ok, back to Drake. ‘But Amanda, no makeup?’ you ask. This should answer it well enough for you, my darling reader: Over a month ago, I went on a weekend getaway with my husband. Wanting to look semi-presentable for a NHL game, I packed my makeup bag. Guys, I kid you not, I just took my makeup bag out of my duffel two days ago. I had to look semi-presentable to the Holy One on Easter. The End.

Finally, and most importantly, the part that Drake omits (perhaps unintentionally as he simply has no clue, or perhaps purposely as it disgusts him) is previous said girl sprawled on the couch, curtains drawn for fear of seeing actual sunlight, watching hours upon hours of “Snapped” (or some other tantalizing true crime TV show). The remnants of a large thin crust pepperoni ‘za from Pizza Hut on the coffee table in front of her, empty cans of Diet Coke next to the empty box. Purposely silencing all incoming phone calls for fear of having to make plans, get dressed, and (gasp!), leave the house. In other words, the picture of bliss.

roommate-6Now, let’s get real. In all seriousness, I don’t think any guy in the free world would think that the above is more attractive than when we get all dolled up and perrrrdy for a night out. Why guys even bother saying preposterous statements such as Drake’s poignant observation, is both irritating and mildly condescending. We all know you’re lying. You’re not fooling anyone. At least not this gal.

End of rant. Now, I’m off to do what I do best.

Until next time…

 

More Fashion Trends I simply Cannot Pull Off 2.0

I would like to think that I KNOW what is fashionable and have an innately good sense of fashion, however, when it comes to applying it to my real life I am seriously slacking. Today, for example, I wore a sweatshirt that had a picture of a cat wearing glasses, reading a book. (It’s seriously the coziest sweatshirt I’ve ever owned.) During the winter months, you will find me daily wearing these atrocious brown, furry UGG boots that make any outfit look like I’m a freshman in college who just rolled out of her bed to haul ass to class. In all reality, I’m a 27 year old working in a respectable profession.

With all that being said, here is another compilation of current fashion trends that I, cannot, and simply will not, ever attempt. Why, you may ask? One, for fear of looking absolutely ridiculous. Two, because I have some respect for myself (well, sometimes; I left part of it on the party bus last Friday night).

If YOU are brave and adorable enough to pull these trends off, part of me applauds you. Part of me wants to kick your ass. Either way, post some pics or let me know! I want to see these trends in REAL life; not in the pages of magazines. This will allow me to fully determine if I super hate these trends or just kinda hate them. Thank you.

Trend #1: Bringing Overalls Back When I was in 6th grade, all the cool girls wore overalls with white shirts (or varying other colors of cream) tied around their waists. Do you ever wish you could go back in time and kick your own ass? This is one of those times. So unless you are currently a pre-teen snobby little witch, do yourself a favor and don’t bust out the ol’ Osh Kosh B’Goshes. Those deserve to stay in the “Donate to Boys’ Ranch” box.

Trend #2: The “Boot-dal” aka. Gladiator Sandals These atrocities deserve to stay with Maximus in the Coliseum. If I personally witnessed anybody I even mildly considered a friend wearing these things, I would probably throw gas on them and proceed to light them on fire.  Aside from the fact that you must waste at least ten minutes struggling to even get these things on, I don’t even want to know how horrifically uncomfortable they must be. And can you imagine the battle scars these things must leave up and down your legs? Not to mention the fat that must bulge out between each sweaty strap of leather. NO. Just no.

Trend #3: The GIANT Ruffle Marie Clarire believes that “oversize ruffles-on skirts, tops, even heels-seduce with a dramatic wave”. Um, no. Did you all see Paula Patton at the Academy Awards? She looked ridiculous. Was Robin Thicke hiding in there somewhere? The only Ruffles I like on my clothes are leftover crumbs after a late night potato chip binge. Shame on you, Paula.

Trend #4: Sheer

Did ya’ll recently see Kendal Jenner in all her sheer glory at New York Fashion Week? Do it. Google “Kendal Jenner sheer top”. I, personally, refuse to put her little boobies on my blog, so search away, my friends! This trend, however, needs to not happen ever again. Unless you are attempting to be sexy in the bedroom for your main squeeze, this needs to just stop on the runway. Let’s do everyone else a favor.

Trend #5: Showing off the midriff

Speaking of a Kardashian, if any of you even remotely pay attention to Kim’s fashion, you are well aware that she is all about the crop tops and skirts. I get it, she lost a bunch of weight and doesn’t have to dress like my grandma’s couch anymore, but try something else, Kimmy. I just don’t understand this trend. And to top it off, she’ll wear a coat over the ensemble. If you have to wear a coat, then your tummy shouldn’t be bare. Simple as that. To me, it appears as though you are wearing your kid sister’s shirt and it’s much too little. (“Fat guy in a little coat” just came into my head; and won’t leave.) Ok, so maybe this trend doesn’t bother me as much as Kim Kardhasion does. I’m probably being unnecessarily unfair to this trend.

And with that, I give you all permission to verbally attack and/or assault me if you ever catch me in any of the above trends. I promise I won’t sue you.

Until next time…

Disturbing Stats I Feel I Should Share…

In honor of Glamour magazine turning the big 18 and officially entering adulthood, they asked 1,131 men (why it couldn’t have been 1,130 totally bothers me, but I can get past it….I think….like that one extra guy made a difference. Ugh. Whatever.) all the dirty questions you’ve always been afraid to ask. Or so they say. In all reality, what they asked was so random and not at all the questions I’ve always wanted to ask. I won’t explicitly say what I’ve always wanted to know because I don’t want this blog to be XXX rated, but come on, Glamour! You can now vote and be in the military. Be brave.

ANYWHO…some of the statistics that I honest-to-God circled as I was reading, are the following. Enjoy.

42% of men say they have had sex on their lunch break from work. Clearly, these men do not work at my place of employment where we get a whole 30 minutes. Well, maybe some do. Quite frankly, I’d be impressed; but they, on the other hand, probably shouldn’t brag about it. I hardly have time to haul my ass down to the cafeteria, lament over my food options for roughly seven minutes, haul my ass back upstairs, and cruise Facebook; all while trying to eat in 30 minutes. It takes talent, people.

13% of men say they have a name for their penis. Maybe it’s just me, but this is a rather disturbing phenomena. Maybe, if the name was truly wonderful, like Shuttlecock, I’d understand, but they’re always so lame. True story: One of my dear friends once dated a guy whose man parts they called “Little Bo Beep”. Awesome, in the sense that I never had to look at it, and that I hated his guts, but definitely not awesome for him. Needless to say, he is no longer in the picture. Thank God.

SNL Grossed Out Gif photo GrossedSNL_zps78c71cbb.gif

41% of men think it would be weird if a woman named her vagina. Um yeah, because it would. This should have been 100%. HOWEVER, I am willing to change my opinion on this, if even one person, can give me  a hilarious, fantastically gross nickname. Use the ‘Comments’ section below. I’m serious.

13% of men wish they could experience pregnancy and childbirth. Bullshit. All lies.

Until next time…

 

 

I’m being poisoned. I think I’ll write into a magazine for advice.

I remember being  fifteen or sixteen years old, sitting on the couch, reading the advice column in Teen People (when your biggest worry was how to get rid of your raging bacne and how to avoid lipstick getting on your braces) and thinking, “What would possess someone to write into a magazine for advice?”

Years later, I find myself thinking the same thing. The questions are not much different (some adults still have bacne) and even more so, I find myself feeling sorry for those who write in. If you had any substantial problems, questions, etc., wouldn’t you go to your family, friends, significant others, therapist, random guy on the street corner, and ask them for advice first? Albeit, I can’t guarantee how great the advice would be, but ya get what I’m sayin’. And now, in a world where you can access any topic on the internet, wouldn’t you try that? Type in to Google any physical concern IMAGINABLE and you will not be disappointed in the discussion forums that come up. Do it. I dare you.

So as I was reading the advice column in ELLE (previous readers may recall my complete and utter annoyance of the Ask E. Jean column; E. Jean being their resident advice giver who looks like the last person ever I would turn to) I encountered a question that was unlike any I had ever imagined finding in a magazine. In a nutshell, this woman was writing in because she was convinced her husband was trying to poison her. She believed her husband was putting something in her coffee and/or in her lotions and beauty products that were resulting in her skin becoming discolored, dry, cracked, and her hair becoming dry and tangled in knots. My initial thought was, “If that’s the case, then Lance poisons me every winter” in the freezing tundra of North Dakota when my skin feels like sandpaper and my feet get so dry that they’re reminiscent of the Mojave desert.”

But she then went on to say that, as a “resolution”, she has started drinking tea instead of coffee (Why didn’t I think of that?!) Problem solved.), and has left “decoy” beauty products around and hidden her real products from her husband. Some resolution. Idiot. She tried hiding a camera in the bathroom, but believes he found it and deleted the files. It results in her desperately asking E. Jean, “Do you know a good lab where I can send the products to have them tested for tampering? Should I go to the police before I have proof?”

You guys. Where do I even begin? For starters, who is this Prince Charming she’s married to who she believes could be potentially poisoning her? Secondly, regardless of if he is truly pulling a Lifetime movie stunt on her or not, WHY, IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, WOULD YOU BE WRITING TO A MAGAZINE ASKING WHAT TO DO?!? Get out. Go to the police. Hide at a friend’s house (with new beauty products, might I add). Do anything, but take the time to sit down and write into E. Jean. By the time your letter is published and you are able to read the answer, you could be dead. Finally, why would you need proof? If you THINK, for even a second, your husband is poisoning you, why do you want to stay married to him? Isn’t that the proof enough right there?

Sadly, I don’t know how this poor woman’s story played out. She could still be married to Mr. Rat Poisoning. She could have met her demise. Or she could still be writing to E. Jean asking for a good divorce lawyer. Regardless, I can guarantee you that she has destroyed my hope in all of humanity. And for all those out there who have any questions that you believe warrants writing to an advice column, don’t. Put the pen down. Instead, ask me.

Until next time…

I’m baaaaaack!…and it’s time for a Revamp.

To all those who have missed me, and more likely, to the majority of those who have not, I am back! I deeply apologize for my year-plus absence, but home girl has had some important life events happening. As you know, I got engaged, got wrapped up in the horrifically wonderful chaos that is planning a wedding, moved in together with my now Hubs into our new house (which in itself is blog-worthy), had the actual wedding (which is, pathetically, one-millionth of the time less than the actual time and energy spent planning), all while having a full time job, and being awesome.

Over the last few months, I have had multiple requests to bring the blog back. Four, to be exact. I finally decided I would resurrect the greatness that is this when, upon Lance’s horror, he discovered I moved two full boxes of unread magazines into our home. However, it was my wise brother who made me realize that the whole “About” section of the blog is completely without merit anymore. I am no longer an unemployed, graduate student, living in her mom’s basement. I am, however, still overweight and in need of an eyebrow wax. Some things never change.

Anywho, per my broseph, part of what made the blog enjoyable was my self-deprecating humor regarding my lack of accomplishment and current sub-par status in the world. I argued to him, in my defense, that although my residence, relationship status and financial situation have changed, I am still a lost cause who will never be what we/I/the world think I should be. With all that being said, although the “About” section may change, the purpose and, hopefully the humor, of this blog will not.

I am now off to begin my dissent into the first box of mags. Be ready for all sorts of helpful advice. Or lack thereof. And if you have any random topics you think should be conquered and discussed, let me know!

Until next time…

Give the Dudes a Little Credit

For those of you who don’t already know, I simply adore my fiance. Aside from the obvious things (the required ability to memorize and quote an absurd amount of movie lines, having the patience of a saint while I rant on and on about how much better “The Bachelor/Bachelorette” is than any wrestling-related program that has ever aired on any television ever, etc.), he is independent. Now, some of you may read this and think, ‘Ok, so the grown 25-year-old man can take care of himself; and this makes him great because…..?’ But no, I mean, guys, the man is a genius. Yes, he can fully support himself, but he is also clean, organized, and can cook. Watching him maneuver a Swiffer around is like watching Picasso create a masterpiece. With children, he’s like a male Mary Poppins. He does more laundry in a week than I do in a month, no question. And when it comes to cooking, he can do more than simply push the button on the toaster down.

I realize that not all men rank in Lance’s bracket (for, I admit, I am a bit bias), but seriously, has anyone ever noticed how straight-up stupid the media makes men look? Turn the TV on right now and I guarantee that within the span of 10 minutes you will see a commercial where the big doofey-looking husband makes a huge mess and stands there like a big, dumb idiot, not knowing where the cleaning supplies are or what to even do with them, patiently waiting for his gorgeous wife (that in all reality he could never snatch up) to come in and save the day. In fact, it was so obvious to one Massachusetts professor that he conducted a study in which he monitored commercials that aired over the course of one week during prime time television. Of 477 characters shown completing chores, 305 were women and 159 were men. Of the male characters, 50% were portrayed as “comically inept”. (In other words, dumb.) On the other hand, more than 90% of the female characters were portrayed as competent. In another study, also discussed in Real Simple, it is because of this negative stereotype that women often do not trust their husband doing housework, and that 26% of women “give their partners chores” several times a week.

This is quite genius...multi-tasking in all its glory.

This is quite genius…multi-tasking in all its glory.

Can I just go out on a limb here and say that perhaps this is a self-fulfilling prophecy? Perhaps we all dug our own grave on this one. We portray men as incompetent with housework and childcare, we then do not trust them to do it, they don’t do it, we complain that we have to do EVERYTHING around the house, and the men get off looking like idiots. Thus, the circle of life. God, that should’ve been the topic of my thesis…perhaps it would have been a more beneficial waste of my time than the snooze-worthy topic I ended up with. Ok, and one more thing…REAL SIMPLE legitimately said that women GIVE their partners chores?? GIVE? Could you make us look any more bitchy and men look any more incompetent? If a dude lays around and doesn’t help with the housework, it’s not because he’s waiting for you to GIVE him chores. He’s a lazy asshole.

Even worse, a multi-page article was written in GLAMOUR titled “How to Get Your Guy to Dress Like This Guy”. Next to the title was a picture of Jason Sudeikis dressed all dapper with an open collar and a glass of liquor in his hand. Now, part of this article was a spoof, it was in fact, written by Jason himself. However, it also was serious. The first tip was to have him wear three-piece suits when attending a wedding (I’ll be lucky if Lance wears one of those to our very own wedding). They also tell you to buy your partner four tailored shirts-two blue and two white. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?! First of all, if I buy Lance clothes, it’s because he said in passing he liked that Sweatshirt or whatever article of clothing it may be. I’m not going to go buy him shirts that he himself can buy, let alone spend money getting them tailored and limiting the color selection to white and blue! Good grief. These men have been putting their legs through pants for years and years, I think they can find their own damn shirts to buy. Some other gems were: when buying a new pair of jeans for your sweetie, MAKE him wear them for one weekend. This will allow him to “break them in” and “give them a chance”. Another one? Buy him a tie clip. Ugh. I can’t even go on.

These are grown men we are talking about. They can change a tire, shingle a roof, and lay sod on an entire lawn. But yet we think they can’t load a dishwasher, make a bed, or properly clothe themselves. Come on. Get over yourself, for starters. Pick your battles. If you want to do the chores so they meet your impossible standards, then don’t bitch about having to do it. Don’t baby them. Don’t treat them like children. They are adults. They are your equals. Treat them as such. Good gravy. And if he does have a horrible fashion sense, tell him. Let’s face it-some men honestly think that wearing cut-off cargo pants looks totally appropriate for a wedding. Offer suggestions, be truly helpful, and go shopping together. It’s not rocket science, people.

Until next time…

5 Current Trends I simply can’t pull off.

Disclaimer: this post is not for the heterosexual men of the world. I mean, feel free to read on, but be prepared to be bored. My fellow sisters and curious misters, however, you rock and may read on.

Anybody who spends a measly half- minute looking through a magazine, perusing Pinterest, or flipping through the channels will see makeup, hair, fashion, and various other trends that they adore. Hey I’ve been there; the new peplum trend that has taken over the fashion world? I could not love it more if I tried. I wish every top I had was a peplum. I would love to be known as “the girl who always wears peplum”. In theory, they are fantastic. On me? Not so much. Here’s where I seriously need you to stop what you are doing, mute the TV, drop the brownie, and read the following words very carefully: Just because something looks appealing on a tiny model who would look good in a towel does not mean it will look good on you. Just because a makeup tip looks spectacular on a model who just had a professional makeup artist work on her for 2 hours does not mean it will look good on you. I know, I know…the truth can hurt and quite frankly, suck, but it had to be said. With that, I give you the top 5 beauty and fashion trends that I cannot pull of, refuse to pull of, or just don’t understand.

Could these peps be any cuter? I think not.

Could these peps be any cuter? I think not.

1. Red Lips. Elle says it’s the beauty trend of the year that is most likely to succeed. Glamour is convinced they can help you find the perfect shade for your skin tone. I, on the other hand, have completely lost all hope. I’ve tried to rock the lipstick a few times and every time I feel like a hooker. No matter what. It never fails. By the second application, I have faithfully returned to my loyal Chapstick. And can any woman on the face of the Earth wear lipstick without fear of it being all over their teeth!? I just can’t.

Ri-Ri rocks the red lips on the beach...

Ri-Ri rocks the red lips on the beach…

out on the town...

out on the town…

and all glammed up.

and all glammed up.

2. Winged Eyeliner. Elle nominated it the look with the Most Attitude. Lauren Conrad is the queen of the subtle winged eyeliner look while Adele rocks a heavy winged look. You could not find two women who look more different but look similarly fantastic with this trend. You may be thinking, well shoot, the look can be pulled off by anyone then! No. No, it can’t. It seriously takes precision and legit practice to get it right. This cannot be worn with the above mentioned red lips or you will be picked up on the street. No question. It also needs to be worn on a night when you know crying will never happen. Translation: if you know you will be partaking in any cocktails, do NOT attempt this look. Booze=drunk girl tears.

fall-2011-trend-watch-winged-eyeliner-1690083        vs.    adele10

3. Dry Shampoo. I just don’t get it. Maybe it’s the gypsy in me, but when I need to wash my hair, I need to wash my hair. All the dry shampoo in the free world could not help me. I still look like I just washed ashore after the Exon Valdez spill.

4. Printed Pants. Will someone please explain this to me? I admit that I definitely live by the analogy that less is more and simple is always classic. But what the hell is going on with the floral pants? Glamour rated it as #3 of the Top 10 Dos & Don’ts (AS A DO!). Some of these pants bring back vivd memories of this nasty silk scarf my mom used to rock in the mid-nineties that had gold chains, flowers and God knows what else printed on it. I bet I could find that thing in a closet somewhere. It’s truly hideous. Then there’s the animal print pants. I already have enough of a difficult time with animal prints, why on Earth would I want them draped across my whole lower half? Just don’t. Unless you are a girl under the age of 12, please don’t. I refuse.

I can't. They all just look ridiculous.

I can’t. They all just look ridiculous.

5. Baroque Style. Ok, I just have to…my favorite line from “Beauty & the Beast”: “And as I always say, if it ain’t Baroque, don’t fix it.” Classic. Moving on, I don’t understand this trend. It looks awkward and uncomfortable. Heavy. It reminds me of English men during the 1700 and 1800s. I already have a sweating problem, I don’t need to add metal and ridiculous adornments onto to my clothing. I think I’d feel like I’m in some kind of midievil ensemble. I just can’t. In this case, if it’s baroque, DO fix it.

So Miranda looks amazing, but the rest look uncomfortable.

So Miranda looks amazing, but the rest look uncomfortable.

Ok, bottom line. Wear whatever the hell you want. If you want to wear a pair of hideous printed pants and you feel like a bombshell in them, then hey, you rock those suckers like there’s no tomorrow. To each their own. But the above 5 listed trends will not be owned by me. Until next time…

A ring don’t mean jack.

While some of you know, I am engaged to a wonderful man. He seriously doesn’t get nearly enough credit for putting up with me for I know I can be terribly obnoxious and my behavior often borders on straight-up hysteria. (We won’t get into the dirty deets because quite frankly I come out on the other side in a negative light.) But through it all, he is always so level-headed and often has to talk me down from the proverbial ledge. As if that wasn’t enough, this crazy kid decided he wants to spend the rest of his life with me. Ha, I fooled him. I’m waiting for him to run the hell the other way like a recently freed man from Shawshank.

Anyway, we’ve been together for almost 6 years and we have encountered the endless barrage of questions regarding “our timeline.” For the longest time it was “Do you think he is the one?”. Then once a few years passed by and I finally decided that he wasn’t too shabby and I might want to keep him, I had to deal with, “When will you guys get engaged?”, “Have you looked at rings?”, “Have you talked about marriage?” etc, etc. Now that he’s put a ring on it, we have had to collectively fight off the obnoxious wedding, moving in together, having children probes. And can I just say at this current moment in my life I would rather be struck down by a garden hoe than bring forth a child into this world. KNOCK ON FRICKEN WOOD, PEOPLE!

Now, I understand (some of) my family and friends asking this; they are simply curious and involved in my life enough to want to know and I’ll be the first to admit that I ask my friends these very same questions. But you INEVITABLY get the girl from high school- who was two years younger than you and is friends with your cousin’s best friend who you met once while at a 6th grade sleepover when prank calling fellow 6th grade dreamboats-who feels she is somehow privy to this information. So obnoxious. Seriously. Ok, enough ranting. I’m getting seriously sidetracked.

THE POINT I was trying to make was that everyone is always in such a rush with their significant other to get engaged, married, have kids, yada yada. But then what?! You become so busy you watch your life fly by without ever going to Disney World (yes, I still harbor some serious resentment for my parents never bringing me) or go to Santorini, Greece (cough, cough, Lance…honeymoon idea. Whaaat?). Which brings me to my little tidbit I found in Marie Claire regarding a recent study done at Cornell University which found that wedded couples aren’t necessarily happier than their cohabitating equals. So throw that in your Aunt Elma’s face next time she asks why you two are living in sin together and waiting for the bowels of hell to suck you up. I know I’ve talked about this before, but like the article says, “What really matters is the quality of the relationship, not whether [you’re married].”

Seems like common sense but so important to remember. Wow, this post started in one direction and ended up in outer space. My apologies. Until next time…

Thank you for being a friend…

The-golden-girlsDon’t even get me started…I start singing this song and before you know it I’m tucked in my bed with all the seasons of “Golden Girls”, in their neatly packaged DVD sets (yes, my sister owns every season, knows pretty much every word & has an unhealthy obsession with the show; she’s amazing and I’m jealous), busted out and am suddenly the 5th member of their Florida home, wearing the most atrocious jewelry and ensembles you can possibly imagine while still being cool.

Clearly, this post is about friends. I don’t mean to toot my own horn but BEEP-fricken-BEEP! I have some pretty spectacular friends and I’m quite certain that mine are better than yours. Neener neener neener. As I have gotten older, I have come to realize just how important each and every one of them are to me. There are those you see far too much and then there are those you rarely see but when you get together it’s like you were never apart and you’re suddenly sharing a humiliating sex story without even the slightest bit of shame. There are the friends who come to you for advice and there are those that you turn to for advice when you get dumped or when you need to know which sweater looks better with the black pair of skinny jeans you just bought (life or death problems here, folks). There are those that stand up for you and are your protectors, yelling at random drunks at the bar for you while others you feel like you have to take under your wing and risk all humiliation by buying them countless pregnancy tests from Walmart in the middle of the night. Whatever the case, each of them is your friend for their own special unique reason and you have been friends for as long as you have because those reasons are keeping them in your life. You need them.

So when I came across a Modern Manners section in yet another REAL SIMPLE magazine (you all know how much I adore this mag…sarcasm is underlying this statement, if you really didn’t know) titled “Is it ever appropriate to spill a friend’s secret?”, I immediately thought of my bizzos that I love and adore. I’ll be the first to admit that I have not always kept friends’ secrets. Am I proud of it? No. But as I have gotten older, that has changed. Sitting here now I can honestly say that no, I would never spill a friend’s secret UNLESS (and this is the mental health worker in me) that person was going to hurt themself or others. Aside from that, no, I wouldn’t. I swear.

Now when I think of my friends’ secrets that have tested my ability to keep my mouth shut, I think of them telling me they slept with so-and-so or they are pregnant or they are planning on ending their relationship. Stuff that REALLY matters, people. So what does REAL SIMPLE bring up as an example of spilling a friend’s secret? Hand to God, I couldn’t make this stuff up….the secret ingredient in a beef barley soup recipe. First of all, gross. Who wants a beef barley soup recipe?! Second of all, who the hell cares if you tell someone that your friend buys chicken stock instead of making their own? Ugh. Rich people.

Anyway, that brings me to another friend-themed article I came across. This past fall, GLAMOUR did an article about friendship DO’s and DON’Ts written by the ever-so-wise Snooki and J-Woww. Now, if I hopped in a time machine and wrote this article a few months back I would have slammed this article left and right. I would have shamed you for watching “Jersey Shore” and for perpetuating this show’s popularity by buying into it all. Yada yada yada. However, after getting sucked into the entire series on Netflix I now adore it. So what, my writing is completely opinionated and subjective. Don’t like it? Don’t care. Anyway, as much as I cringe at some of the housemates’ decisions (hello, Seasons 1, 2, 3 & 4 of Ron and Sam!), I do have to say that Snooks and Jenni have a true friendship. They get mad at each other. They fight. They may tell each other things you don’t want to hear. Translation: they are best friends.

Snooks and J-Woww all glammed up.

Snooks and J-Woww all glammed up.

Here are their list of Do’s & Don’ts:

DON’T lie. Ever-not even about looks. (Ok, I think this specific situation depends on the friend. There are some friends where I wouldn’t even bat an eye telling them, “O my God, you look ridiculous, go change now.” And then there are some where if they were wearing the same exact outfit I would say, “Hmmm, I don’t think that top looks very good with those pants. Let’s find something different.” and then go help them. Feelings, people. Know your friends boundaries and what does and doesn’t cut a little.)

DO respect each other’s opinions about men. (Yes, you should respect their decisions, but it doesn’t mean you have to agree with them.)

DON’T try to make the friendship a democracy if a dictatorship works. (Translation: if you’re totally content with the other pal making plans all the time, then run with it. If it bothers you and you want a say, speak the hell up.)

DO cultivate a Culture of Two. (Do special things for each other. Build your OWN bond which can be hard when you have a large group of friends.)

DO give each other nicknames. (Anybody who spends 1 minute with my friends will know our nicknames. Some are sweet, some are very un-endearing. The popular ones? Tits, Boo, Love, and Bitch. It’s real, people.)

DO make a display of your affection. (No, you don’t have to pull a Snooki and Deena and literally make out together. But be there for each other. If you don’t like your boobs being grabbed, then do not, I repeat, do not, hang out with my friends. Ever. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.)

DON’T think short-term. Instead, plan [ahead]. (Totally acceptable to plan out where you will all live in a cul-de-sac together and how you will rotate carpool with your respective kids. Totally normal. Not weird in the least.)

Bottom line. Be a good friend. Even if it makes YOU uncomfortable, get over it. Work to create the friendships where you will be there for each other years from now. After the kids have left the house. After the husband has gone through his mid-life crisis and left you high and dry. After you both can’t live on your own anymore and need to check into a nursing home. And to all my loving, creative, beautiful, hilarious lady (and guy) friends out there…thank you for being a friend.

Until next time…