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I Hope You Brought Your Gloves

13 Feb

As Valentine’s Day is looming over our heads like a neon pink light of fury pointing cupid’s arrow to romantic cliched dooms-ville, when is the time to cut your losses and follow that light to the nearest bar… or decide to continue to fight for a love that may not exist except in Hallmark cards and on disgusting heart shaped candy messages?

Fights in relationships are a very common thing. So THEY say. (Yeah, I don’t know who “they” is either.) But when is fighting becoming less productive and more seductive? Is it the arguing that’s keeping the relationship exciting in a downhill crash and burn type motion… or is it really improving your communication and the nature of your relationship?

Should fighting be considered a normal sequence of events? And when should that sequence start? 2 minutes in? 2 months in? 2 years in? 2 decades in? 2 fifths of vodka in?

Is fighting a sign that you love each other and are working on the relationship… or perhaps is it a sign that this just isn’t working… and someone should be the bigger person, ultimately giving up the good fight?

Taking bets now.

AND should we put the gloves aside until February 14th is over for the sanctity of it? (Hahahahahahaha  No, that was a rhetorical question. How about we just realize it’s a day set aside for stress to come knocking on your door to present you with higher than achievable expectations.)

Happy Valentine’s Die Hard Day Bitches.

Kids Suck… but It’s Our Own Fault

7 Feb

ImageMy “man friend” (that’s what I call him because “boyfriend” is the most cliche and terrifying word to someone who is afraid of commitment… ever… FYI)  the other day was discussing having children … and once the smelling salts kicked in and I crawled off the floor and ingested a couple glasses of red wine… I got to thinking.

I started looking around at all the children and instead of scowling I tried to be unbiased. Key word tried. But honestly!! after paying attention to the coming generations… I’m not sure I want to live in this world much less bring in additional sufferers.

What in the hell are we doing to our children today?? When did this bullshit of everyone is equal and a winner come to fruition? I think NOT. Participation trophy’s and no child left behind and child services at every corner waiting to sweep your offspring to foster homes is completely out of control. In the words of Will McAvoy (if you haven’t watched HBO’s the Newsroom… you NEED to) America is NOT the greatest country in the world anymore and with great reason.

My parents hit me and you know what… I’m still alive! Ta DA! Sure it was unpleasant when it happened… But I don’t have any scars… not even emotional ones… those came from elsewhere. But you know what I do have? Respect for authority …and character. I would have hit me too. I was a nightmare from the ages of 3- 25. I still need to be hit most days. And you know what… I lost in team sports and my lack of ability to put one foot in front of the other left me to be the last person picked in dodge ball. I didn’t cry. I found something I was good at so I could feel proud of myself. I worked harder at things that I was mediocre at. I excelled in school because it set me apart from my peers. It gave me a niche. It made me work to feel a sense of accomplishment… What is that?!

This hand holding and coddling ridiculousness is creating a generation of pussies… yeah I said it PUSSIES…  who aren’t going to be able to take care of themselves, much less be contributing members of society. They are going to fill out a job application (if they can even think for themselves that far) work for two hours (if they can make it that long) and be waiting with their hand out for a golden trophy and a pat on the back.

YEAHHHH RIIIIGHHHTT.

This is not the world I want to be in much less bring someone else in it. I’ll hit my kid for saying ‘shit’ at the age of 3 cause they heard it on TV (or from me) and because they threw a temper tantrum in the supermarket cause I wouldn’t buy them a candy bar and a second Ipad … and then we’ll all be in jail.

No thank you.

I think I’d rather move to Mars. I hear it’s nice there.

Hey, Nice Couch

6 Feb

Image

They say in relationships what you put up with is what you will get.

When it comes to straddling the ever lowering fence of getting to know one another over dinner and theatre dates to being in a “normal” relationship how long should you climb?

When the beginning “dating” period is over and as a couple you are becoming more comfortable with one another when is the appropriate time to say “whatever” and give up on the planning and beautifying anxiety ridden preparations? I understand its the natural progression of relationships… but shouldn’t there be a little bit left for some in-public shenanigans?

As a female in America fighting for respect and any kind of romance or sparkle daily, when is the right time to give up the fancy fight and say f**K it… allowing your significant other to become ultimately lazy letting the “relationship” period pull its dark hood over your coupledom’s head?

Is this something to fight for? Or is it really just acceptable to waive your white flag and start making nightly dinners followed by Netflix movies and late night romcom’s followed by morning scrambled eggs?

As Valentine’s approaches I realize that oftentimes when you are “supposed” to be going out due to a national holiday… or hallmark coming out as a drug user of steroids… I wonder should we continue to expect someone to WANT to bring on the sparkle for all of time… or are sweatpants and takeout food just the normal sequence of events? I can’t help but want to fight the urge of such a thing known as comfort… just to keep the special. Perhaps if not avoiding the monotony of TV and couple supermarket trips means that you have made it in the quest of relationships and dating. Instinctly, I want to pull a mulligan and resign from the game. On this path… the only next logical move is farting in bed and tweezing each other’s eyebrows. Or perhaps, it is worth the fight to keep the fantasy… at least one night a week? As women isn’t that what it’s all about? Being single for most of my life, I appreciate the fun and glitter of dating and making plans and having something to look forward to.

However, if examining oneanother’s boogers and foot cramps really is the reality of the situation, I’d rather keep my reality to Keeping Up with the Kardashians and become a serial first dater… until I’ve reached Betty White status at least.

I guess thank gawd for Match.com and Ben and Jerry’s.

Here come the snuggies. *le sigh

The Sure Thing.

20 Dec

sure-thing-jbI was talking to an older widower the other day and she was trying to brainstorm how to meet someone and I suggested she go to a happy hour and she asked “but by myself?? I wish there was someone I could go with.” I suggested a woman in our office that was blonde, looked ten years younger, and could talk to a wall if it would engage her. She constantly smiled and I knew men would come over with the bait of the blonde chatty kathy, providing an opening for the brunette shy widower to make her mark with her humor and wits… This is called a sure thing.

My friend was not interested in going with this woman, but I don’t think she got the point of it.

Is it called taking advantage of people or simply just seeing an opportunity and taking it? If you know someone will help you out why wouldn’t you go for it immediately? It’s not selfish, it’s time management. Why beat around the bush… if you see someone chewing a piece of gum, why wouldn’t you ask them to have a piece… or someone wearing a watch what time it is? You wouldn’t ask the kid who is failing the class to explain the homework to you, amiright? I know I help people out in ways I don’t even know. One just has to be smart enough  to spot the opportunity and pounce. If you are smart enough to see something that will make your life easier, why wouldn’t you go for it? Someone would do the same for you.

I do, however, find this skill probably most similar to how serial killers choose their victims and married men target their mistresses… so proceed with caution and don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Don’t think if I have a flat tire (as a young female that usually wears heels and skirts) I don’t immediately target the burliest man with football playeresque stats to help me, completely overlooking to 90lb cheerleader? Duuuuuuh.

Everyone has skills and something to offer and I think picking out the sure thing is a compliment to them… usually. I’ll admit maybe I take advantage of this superpower ability to read people’s strengths and what I can get away with, but how else is a single girl with zero muscle mass and a negative bank account supposed to survive?

Handshakes ARE a thing.

31 Oct

Sooooooo……… Handshakes huh??

I think one of the most definitive characteristics (aside from what you have chosen to put on your body) of a person is their handshake. And I have to admit… some of you are really lacking. Through a handshake one can come across as overbearing or weak in an instant based on your grip of the importance of this situation…. (I had to.)

So I’ve decided to classify handshakes into 5 clear categories. Pencils up!

Limp Lacey- Ohhhhh Lacey…. I just want to put you in my pocket and… wash my pants on high spin speed.

This is the type of person that gives you their hand and you aren’t sure if you’ve grabbed an earthworm and should run away screaming looking for antibacterial gel, or you’re okay and it is indeed someone’s appendage. It’s as if you are squeezing the water out of a wet rag and, incidentally, these people’s hands are usually cold and clammy. They just give you their limp hand and let you bear paw it like Paul Bunyan just got to town and is TAKING OVER THEIR WORLD. Get a spine… and show it through your handshake. You want someone to think you’re completely weak and never wants to be friends with you because you most likely have no real opinions and it’s doubtful your voice doesn’t go an octave over a church mouse… nor your personality… then present your hand as if it were 6 month old rotten cucumber and you’re golden.

Her Royal Highness Helen- Helen is a bitch… or a queen… because they put their hand out with just the fingertips available at a distance as if expecting you to kiss their royal manicure and kneel before their magicalness.

Whenever someone does this I want to slap it away and then go “high-five”… and then high-five their FACE! Be real. Don’t half ass a handshake or not be confident about meeting someone’s gesture of a handshake. Put your nose down and figure out how to uncurl your arthritis/Gollum-esque attempt at a proper hello. You think I’m harsh… someone hiring you REALLY isn’t gonna like that either. They have standards.

Hard Harry- Harry is the person that comes in hard and grabs onto your hand like they’re about to whip you around into a black van with no windows and sell you into sex slavery.

They keep their grip for what seems like eternity… or the entire length of a Keeping Up with the Kardashians episode… whichever comes first. All you can think about is when your hand will be free and where the nearest ice bucket and do it yourself cast kit is. Be gentle. Don’t try to kill the other person and don’t try to overcompensate for other insecurities by shaking like a hitman trying to choke someone out. Just breathe. People will remember your name and be able to remember meeting you instead of the pain induced black out you are causing.

Insecure Ivan – Ivan puts his hand out there and then retracts it back like an elevator door is coming away at .0005 miles a minute and might karate chop it in half. It’s like a dance of sort. A dance of the bad handshake people. It’s a psych-out for whoever poor sucker is on the other side. Put your hand out there and keep it there until someone shakes it… or everyone just walks away. Either way, at least you kept your ground and your intentions were clear. No one likes a hand meeting that turns into a bad version of the macarena.

THIS IS THE RIGHT WAY TO DO IT. Be firm. Be confident. Hold your hand out straight. Make sure your skin is dry (or at least like 75%ish). Look the other person in the face. Smile like you like it. Hold for 3 seconds… One.. M-I-S-I-S-S-I….. sorry, I don’t know how to spell Misissippi…and go back to conducting normal daily life.

Did everyone survive? I have the number for a good psychologist. Message me for details.

Happy shaking.

Wait. What’s that noise??

29 Oct

They say when people hear their names it resonates with them and makes them trust people, wanting to embrace others.

All my life  I’ve been terrified that I’m a self obsessed narcissist. Which most likely means I am. But as I get older and find more clever ways to hide my craziness, I have had the ability to look at others and notice patterns that evolve across us all.

We all want to talk about ourselves.  DUH the world revolves around ME didn’t you know?!?

But if you ONLY listen to people and just let them carry the conversations and tone of communication, they will talk forever about themselves and never once ask about the other… or get tired… or run out of topics (relax…. I only know this from PERSONAL experience… Why, hello my little blog. ) 😉

I’ve been testing this theory, only listening and not bringing it back to “TA DAH! here I am and this is what I like and think and do and everyone should be just like me!! TADAHHHH!” and unfortunately for me it is harder than I had hoped. #insertfoot

But why is this so? And when did it become ok? Are we really all that self-obsessed… and with the evolution of social media and ever-increasing channels to perfect our image, is this, at the same time, creating a monster of the dissolution of public service and charity and REALLY having compassion for others and their problems?

I’ll admit people’s problems seem to be becoming more like reality television than Walter Cronkite. Oh, you didn’t get those $200 shoes you HAD to have at full price because you’re on a budget… and now you’re just gonna DIIIEEEEEE #whitegirlproblems #passthewine

Unfortunately, people who listen to others lamenting  90% of the time are only looking for a place to [insertwhitegirlproblem#366here] and bring the conversation around to themselves and their own personal frame of reference… at varying levels of course from crazy to shutthehellup. Additionally, media/society and consumerism are completely driving this trend.

You will, though, make it very far in social circles if you will just listen. People LOVE anyone that will listen to WHATEVER… from their cat taking a shit yesterday to real issues like a death in the family or what they ate for lunch. Maybe it’s called networking, or maybe it’s just called listening.

I think the more you put others first or allow them to believe it’s all about them, the more they will appreciate your presence. But how REAL is that really? By talking about ourselves in a roundtable over cocktails or during the The Real Housewives [insertwhatevercityisYOURfave] marathon, are we really creating meaningful relationships or are we creating a facade that others must care about US when really everyone just cares about themselves?

Does anyone seriously care in return, or do they just care that others care? (There is a lot of caring going around amiright?)

At a definitive crossroads in being social, being young, being a hermit, and being old  and bitter, I often wonder where does one go from there? If you are listening constantly, when do you realize its an ok time for you to speak or admit that maybe you need someone to listen to you? At that point are you just fulfilling the inner ego or is it just a matter of  remaining sane… and letting it all out through verbal diarrhea?

Can someone go their whole lives only being there for others and losing themselves in the process? Or is that only half a meaningful relationship?

Is communication a necessity or is it a luxury that many take for granted?

Cursed From the First.

5 Oct

When it comes to dating and being single these days, the road is a rocky one. Full of lack of effort, lack of respect, and a series of trainwreck ends that would put any Grey’s Anatomy story line to shame. Though there may not be pieces of wall through the abodem, severed legs, or lightbulbs lodged in a brain that was unknowingly suffering from Alzheimer’s, there are still scars left when the all-too-familiar story of relationships go awry. Though hearts are strong and can handle much bullshit (I know this for a fact), the effects can be long-lasting and sometimes the scars never heal.

Even just one love blow can have life-long side effects.

So when someone comes along that doesn’t want to cut your heart out, chew it up, and then find a more “meaningful situation” 5 seconds later; how is a victim of constant love-torture supposed to take it with a straight face?

When someone who wants to date you, presents you with a confident, sincere, and respectful version of what you’ve only seen in the movies; how does one not just slap their face, pour a bucket of ice water over themselves, and run screaming away because they are 1) DEFINITELY imagining things, 2) they are DEFINITELY on their way to 100% crazy, 3) they’re definitely thinking this one is the same… it’s just gonna hurt worse, and 4) it’s definitely Alzheimer’s.

It’s like the Hunger Games but WAYYY too many players to watch out for, and way too few bows and arrows.

Ok, their (me. I mean me.) brains might need a literal lightbulb to the head.

When someone actually has their shit together, knows what they want, aren’t scared of feelings, and are actually a good person, I can’t help but continually peer over my shoulder waiting for the other shoe (most likely an iron-toed workboot in a male size 18) to drop and put me into a heartbreak coma.

Yeah, this means that I’m crazy and cannot deal with what I don’t know (Which is assholes. ALL assholes). However, perhaps dealing with assholes ISN’T normal, and a respectful man is just that.. a man. Not a boy. And THAT  is normal.

Either way normal is completely subjective to each person.

AND a good solid helmut is always a good idea.

“All the Boys to the Yard”

24 Sep

So what is up with the age-old expression of “when it rains, it pours?”

It’s freaking true… and it’s drrrrrriving me nuts.

I’ll spend 9 months sitting on my couch eating Cheezits  and whipped cream out of the can,  crying into my Facebook wondering if this so-called person they call “cupid” is real and whether or not I should write a literature review on the very significant reason he DOESN’T have a soul and BAM!… out of nowhere comes dudes crawling out of the woodwork.

Like all of a sudden I’ve found my fairy godmother and her food stamps ran out and she got forced off unemployment.

BACK IN BUSSSIINNEEESSSSSSSSSS!

And as soon as it came, being entertained on an hourly basis is ripped from under me and all of a sudden instead of having someone to help open the wine for me, I find myself just smashing the top off hoping I don’t die from glass shards in between sobs. Ok maybe too much… I have my thirties for those shenanigans (It’s the little things in life to look forward to).

Perhaps it’s like a thing where women cycle on a yearly basis and men can smell out desperation. Or perhaps it’s the fact that as a single woman you can only take so much and you give up on men, completely morphing into an awesome replica of Angelina Jolie in Wanted and the boys just can’t take your badassness and must have more (or are scared of taking a bullet through the head on a hormone fueled angry woman-on-the-edge-rampage). Or perhaps it’s just freaking ANNOYING.

I don’t need 10 million dates in one week. Pressure like that will make any woman keel over and pull the blanket over her head, claiming limerance (my smart friend taught me that word… it’s a real thing.). I’m not looking for an okcupid kind of time. You know where creepy first dates abound and hysteria ensues with naked pizza eating at midnight after your “free meal of torture” I don’t know this from personal experience, oooofff cooooouuuurse.

I would just like a date maybe once every 6 weeks to three months to keep me wanting… to live.

This over kill and then drought (which conveniently comes during wedding season, the holidays, and when I’m feeling fat and ugly) is messing with my head. I’ve started wanting to do my own blood and hormone tests to see what’s different, or keep a food diary of the types of potato chips I’m eating… I must be sweating bar-be-que Lays this week which is why all the boys are “coming to my yard.”

The bigger issue, though, is how is it that at 27  with my shit in a pretty neat pile am I still validated by the fact that boys “think I’m pretty and want to date me?” In the last 6 months I’ve JUST decided I might want to date me… and maybe have REAL goals… and MAYBE want to GET IT TOGETHER (haha just kidding)…oh wait… maybe that’s it.

Hahahahahahahahahahahahaha.

Nah, it’s definitely the potato chip sweat.

When did watching something die become romance?

12 Sep

ImageSo call me jealous.

Call me crazy.

Call me maybe? (I deserve to be put down for that)

Call me whatever you want.

Just say it behind my back, please.

My new roommate seems to have magical ways with the men that are blowing my mind and getting me to thinking (yeah, I’m thinking, now IS the time to panic.)..It may be that the guys are all real young and desperate… or drunk (see previous post) OOOOR it may be her Swedish accent…whhhhooooo could ever know?!?… either way the girl is pulling in a plethora of arrangements from “gentleman callers.”

As each day passes with a new bouquet, I started to wonder when did flowers become a thing to show affection??

Think about this realistically.

You are KILLING something to WATCH IT DIE.

You could just save your $20 dollars and leave nature in all its beauty and glory and wonder and… too much??

“SAVE THE FLOWERS!”

I was there once… young and thinking that the only way I thought I would discover affection was through foliage and gold and jewels. (Silly, silly Lauren)

Don’t get me wrong… I’m still on the jewelry train. Now and forever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and……………….

But flowers are so overpriced and so useless and depressing. In three days they will be a dried up memory.

Most the times the arrangments are ugly anyways…depends on the grocery store or gas station of choice of course 😉 Plus, the dude has a 10% chance AT BEST of nailing the specific females’ flower, color, arrangement, scent, size, and vase of choice. Not the best odds. Personally, I don’t know ANY names of flowers but roses…………. and ummmmmmm tulips are a thing right? I can’t imagine what a man is thinking in the flower section. I bet they sweat alot and just give up, cover their eyes, and point. Seems legit.

However, I have had LOTS of conversations with other girls discerning the meaning of each type of flower and what their names are and what family they belong to and what event they are most suited for and what color and what size and when they come in season… and I definitely blacked it all out. Best. Skill. Ever.

When as women was this expected as a sign of admiration? Or when as men did this become a go-to idea?

Why can’t useful things be the new token of affection?

It IS 2012 and the new Iphone5 is out. Come on people, we should be updating our relationship habits with the times.

Like maybe show up to the door with a favorite DVD (you can get those for $5..and they last FFFFORREEVVEERRR… can you say S-T-E-A-L?), or tickets to a show, or pre-bought candy to sneak into the redicuously overpriced movie theatre, or booze is ALWAYS appropriate, or I’m in school… I can always use a USB (just make sure it’s pink and sparkly, DUH)… put some funny pictures on it or burn some music, or I mean…

Just hand me a $20 bill instead of flowers and the gifts just Keep. On. Giving. amiright??? This girl can always use a tank of gas and I’ll think of you every mile of the way. 🙂

One Question: Do you have one? And how many? And where is the nearest Chili’s? Ok that’s three questions.

11 Sep

Image

So It has been a while. My bad. But I’m back… for now.

I am now settled and being productive… in hell… aka middle America… and don’t worry, it IS as terrible as it sounds.

However, one thing that comes with living in a college town, specifically one in the middle of nowhere (it’s like they dug this hole and let 20,000 hormone ridden zombies loose because that was the only sensible place to contain them all where they couldn’t hurt…anything but cows and corn) is the fact that the men are boys, and there is no way to escape them.

They. Are. EVERYWHERE.

Little 18 year olds with huge egos and a lack of alcohol poisoning knowledge. Every Thursday- Friday it’s like WWIII and they start dropping like flies at 9 pm being carried out like wounded soldiers by their equally inebriated friends… “I’m ready to Paaaarrrrrtttyyyyyyyyy”. (Figure out how to hold your liquor or just stay home children. Hasn’t anyone heard of a rally puke?? 😉 GET IT TOGETHER!!)

The one good thing about being surrounded by teenagers is that they are too dumb to realize that you,  in fact, are not a teenager yourself (every time I get mistaken for 19… yeah that’s years-old… I can’t help blushing and wanting to laugh hysterically while simultaneously pinching their cheeks…they’re just so adddoorrraaabbbllleee) thus leading to being constantly carded for dates that one should NEVER go on anyways…The worst date I ever went on was to Chili’s where the man of the hour used his hands to shovel sour cream onto his tacos.

I was 18.

At 27 I would have shrieked and ran and taken at least 15 scalding hot showers and a minimum of 5 sessions of therapy.

Been there. Done that.

I digress.

Besides finding the fountain of youth in idiocy I have also discovered a growing trend that perhaps needs to be a new question box on Match. com. “Do you have any DWI’s?” And even more important “HOW MANY?!?!”

The first question holds a good chance that about 60% polled are going to have a DWI…depends where you are hanging out I would assume.

The second question… hold your breath and get your running shoes laced.

This DWI epidemic is an increasing problem in the single world, and when a female realizes that she either needs to dress appropriately for bike pegs,  drive to pick up her date herself, or just stay home and eat like Jared before he found Subway, the romance seems to go straight out the window.

When did this become a thing to worry about??

And it’s not just dudes, girls have them too.

Is it because we all hate our lives in this politically and economically toxic situation we find ourselves in, or are we seeing a generation come about that thinks the rules perhaps don’t apply to them and that they are so entitled to never get caught?

Either way, just keep arguing that I’m not 27 but 19 boys… and I’ll meet you at any Chili’s you want.

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