Live-Texting. Oscars 2013.

This past weekend marked the 85th Academy Awards. Every year I’m always like, “I’m not going to watch… boringggg.” And every single year, I relent. I’m not sure what is so appealing about award season. It could be the glitzy-Hollywood-glam, the competitive atmosphere, or an evening celebrating the year’s best films… But I’m going to put my money on hunky men in suits.

While I was pretending I wasn’t going to watch this year, I received a text message from a good friend asking if I was viewing the big show. The following is the text conversation between Mandy and I throughout the entire duration of the Oscars. After reflecting, I realized that apparently I have a thing for Seth MacFarlane and I‘m pretty sure I was much more jilted about Ben Affleck not recieving a Best Director nomination than he was.

Enjoy!

Mandy: Are you watching the Oscars?

Me: Yeah.

Me: I’m attracted to Seth MacFarlane.

Mandy: I think he’s gay.

Me: He is not.

Mandy: He is assumed to be.

Me: I’m really sad you think he’s gay. Then I have no chance 😦

Mandy: I just think I’ve heard that before. He won’t say he is but it is assumed. He does have a lovely singing voice and is very dapper. I see the attraction.

Me: I like his attitude.

A straight man.

Me: Idk, I don’t know why I don’t think anything is funny.

Mandy: We’re a tough crowd.

Me: We should make a short film, seems like our best route to an Oscar. Easiest. Probably like an hour or two of editing.

Mandy: Why didn’t our moms make a Pixar movie about us??

Me: I don’t know, ridiculous on their part.

Me: Anne Hathaway is wearing a bridesmaid’s dress.

Mandy: She is very hit or miss.

She can probably hem that dress and re-wear it!

Me: Life of Pi looks extremely sad. I’m glad I didn’t see it.

Mandy: It does, still haven’t seen it.

Me: Samuel Jackson scares me.

Me: Samuel L. Jackson that is.

Mandy: I gotcha, I always think of snakes when I see him. I also hate his shirt.

Me: Mark Ruffalo has looked better.

Mandy: What did he play in that movie?

Me: The Avengers?? The Hulk, Mandy.

Not enough Robert Downey Jr…

Mandy: Oh yeah, I didn’t know. I prefer him as Matty.

Mandy: Do you think he said hi to Jennifer Affleck?

Me: Everyone does and I hope so.

Mark Ruffalo and Jennifer Affleck (formerly, Jennifer Garner) from the blockbuster “13 going on 30”.

Me: Life of Pi is already cleaning up.

Mandy: Sure is.

Me: They better not win everything like that stupid non-talking movie did last year.

Mandy: Especially since we didn’t see it.

Me: Yeah, obviously lol.

Yeah… maybe we were wrong about this movie…

Me: So much sex appeal on stage.

Mandy: She looks pretty but old.

Me: Yeah, older.

Mr. Channing Tatum and Jennifer Aniston. Why is Channing at the Oscars?

Me: The people who win the early awards are so weird.

Mandy: Awkward.

Me: Could someone not do her hair?! It’s the Oscars.

Mandy: To expensive.

Mandy: Good grief, that outfit!!

Me: I told you these people lol.

Me: I’m never gonna be a Bond girl.

Mandy: I don’t want to be! This is what you become.

Me: She’s a dame! And wearing gold.

Shirley Bassey… (I had to look that name up)

Mandy: This won’t end.

Me: Yeah, that was torture.

Mandy: Clooney is probably asleep.

Me: Did you see his beard? He looks good no matter what.

Mandy: I know, so good.

Class act.

Mandy: I hate Quentin.

Me: Everyone does.

Mandy: I don’t think you can talk in a short film.

Me: I heard that foreign film, Amore, is super sad. About a woman who gets sick and starts deteriorating and her husband has to decide to kill her ot put her out of her misery.

Mandy: Omg… geeeeesh France.

Me: Yeah, I’m like well sounds like the saddest movie ever.

Mandy: Ben looks good.

Me: I love Seth.

Me: And Benji.

Mandy: That was quick, I think Ben wants off stage.

Me: He’s pissed he didn’t get nominated for his directing.

Me: This jaws music is hilarious.

Mandy: I don’t like poor sports.

Me: I hate poor sports as well.

Mandy: I miss old Travolta. I hate new Travolta.

Me: How is John Travolta still relevant?

Mandy: He owns Hollywood, Stacey!

I miss Danny Zuko.

Mandy: How is Chicago relevant?

Me: I love dis song.

Me: You know I do.

Mandy: It’s JAZZZZ.

Me: Lol, Chicago isn’t relevant but I love this sexay song. Sex is always relevant.

Mandy: Tell that to Jesus, Stacey.

Me: Me and him have a hit or miss relationship lately.

Zeta-Jones has still got it.

Mandy: She is perfect for this song. She gets to sing everywhere.

Me: I’m so bothered by Jennifer Hudson all the time.

Me: You know Beyonce is so jelly.

Mandy: So jelly.

Me: She’s just so blah.

Not Beyonce.

Mandy: Hey Oscars, ten years ago called… they want their songs back.

Me: Pretty much.

Mandy: It’s Hugh!

Me: How come Les Mis gets a special?? Kinda unfair.

Mandy: They all get to sing their songs I believe they normally perform all the songs nominated.

Me: Oh yes, probably.

Mandy: Her boobs look awful in that dress!

Me: Anne Hathaway can’t do anything without crying lately.

Mandy: She has feelings.

Mandy: And Sasha Cohen? He’s in that? Really Les Mis??

Me: Yeah, he’s a crazy in it.

Mandy: Well he’s crazy.

Kinda glad the season of Les Mis is over.

Me: Zoe is pretty but I think she takes herself more seriously than anyone else.

Mandy: She does. You were in Center Stage, Zoe. Calm down.

Me: And Chris Pine is just great. I have no complaints of his physique.

Mandy: None whatsoever.

I only see Chris Pine in this picture.

Me: Omggg that bear.

Me: I can’t tell if he’s there or not. I know he’s not, but I kinda think he is.

Mandy: He looks really real.

Me: I swear to God that bear is there.

But for real. That bear…

Mandy: Maybe he is like Teddy Ruxpin.

Me: ?

Mandy: 

Me: That bear is scary.

Mandy: Lol you don’t remember him? He read books to you.

Me: No, I never had that monster.

Me: A tie? That’s bullshit Oscars.

*Tie in the Best Sound Category was truly a rare occurrence. The tie between “Skyfall” and “Zero Dark Thirty” was only the sixth such result in the 85-year history of the Oscars. There might not be another in your lifetime. Think about that.

Me: Anddddd the villain’s sidekick from Die Hard is accepting the award.

Mandy: They all have long hair.

Mandy: The hippies. It’s the Oscars – go to Super Cuts.

Me: Yeah, these people aren’t invited to any parties later.

Villain from Die Hard.

Villain from Die Hard…

Me: Here’s a big award. It snuck up on me.

Mandy: It really did.

Me: Do you think Sally deserves it?

Me: I really think Anne deserves it, but I didn’t want her to win.

Mandy: What was taped under her chair?

Mandy: If you didn’t notice, go back and look.

Me: Whose chair?

Mandy: Anne’s when she got up it flipped up.

Mandy: There was something taped underneath. Probably a bomb.

Me: K. I’ll go look when she’s done gabbing.

Mandy: She’s married?!

Me: Yeah, duh.

Me: Her husband is dorky.

Mandy: I didn’t know.

Mandy: I also think she wants to sleep with Hugh.

Me: Yeah I think she might have slept with Hugh.

Me: Yeah I don’t know what was under her seat, looked like a candy bar.

Me: WHERE IS TOM HANKS?

Me: I can’t take the Oscars seriously if he’s not there.

Mandy: Idk, probably at home watching it with his lovely wife.

Mandy: It was probably a candy bar so she doesn’t pass out later.

Me: Probably.

Me: I love Seth.

Mandy: Oh Sandy.

Me: Remember when she was married to a tattooed nazi who got to sit in the front row at the Oscars a few years back? Never forget.

Mandy: People don’t forget.

Oscars 2010

Mandy: I would hate to watch everyone get Oscars for a movie I made.

Mandy: She seems nervous.

Mandy: She always sounds amazing.

Me: Oh Adele, Classy braud.

A lady.

Me: He’s to old for her.

Me: It worked for the movie.

Jennifer and Bradley in “Silver Linings Playbook” Go see this movie!

Me: Is Leo here?!?

Me: I haven’t seen him…

Mandy: I haven’t seen him. Probably too busy not wanting to come.

Me: Lol snubbed.

Mandy: Why is Kristen Stewart there?

Mandy: She is so annoying.

Me: K Stew is so fuckingggggggg awkard.

Mandy: Stop touching your hair. It’s not cute. We hate you for cheating on Robert.

Me: I think it’s because Snow White and The Huntsman was nominated for a few things. Ya know, that movie she slept with the director of.

Mandy: Right.

Mandy: Her dress doesn’t fit right.

Not sure why Harry Potter and Bella Swan were invited to the Oscars…

Mandy: Hanks!

Me: I didn’t see Hanks! I went to the bathroom!

Mandy: Stacey!

Me: Damnit!

Me: Damnit!

Mandy: She’s annoying.

Me: Yes, absolutely.

Mandy: I. Hate. Her.

Mandy: She looks like a witch.

Me: Yeah, she is the worst.

Barb.

Me: This diving show looks ridiculous.

Mandy: They are using the term stars loosely.

Coming soon to your local ABC.

Me: It’s been 10 years since Chicago? We’re ancient. Just kill me.

Mandy: They both wore gold. Awkward.

Me: I’d do Richard Gere.

Mandy: I told you ten years ago called…

Allllllll thattttttt jazzzzzz.

Me: I really don’t want to listen to a Daniel Day-Lewis speech, but I feel like he’s gonna win later.

Mandy: He was really good maybe he’ll accept as Lincoln.

Me: I think he is Lincoln.

Mandy: He thinks he is Lincoln.

Me: I’m happy for Adele.

Mandy: She’s good.

Me: Did you hear we are supposed to get like 6 inches of snow on Tuesday?

Mandy: I sure did. Snowy.

Me: Snowwww.

*We got off topic a lot…

Mandy: Oh Ben.

Me: Argo.

Me: I would love to know what Ben is thinking.

Mandy: Same thing we were thinking when Delta Zeta won the talent show. WTF.

Me: Your fav just won.

Mandy: I’m glad he cleaned himself up for the Oscars.

Me: He’s crazy.

Mandy’s BFF winning.

Mandy: Life of Pi. Sweeping.

Me: I will never watch that Pi movie.

Me: His wife looks normal, I like that.

Mandy: Yeah, silly.

Mandy: Omg good for her.

Me: Good for her.

My girl J-Law.

Me: Hugh’s wife is weird.

Mandy: Lincoln won.

Mandy: Sorry, Stace.

Me: Typical.

Mandy: He can completely change his voice for a role. It’s crazy.

Me: He’s talented. He is.

He really does think he’s Abraham Lincoln.

Mandy: Is that clear! Stacey!

Me: Crystal.

For some reason, Jack Nicholson presented an award. Which obviously made Mandy and I reference “A Few Good Men”

Me: Whaaaaaaaa? Obama!

Mandy: I love Michelle’s dress.

Mandy: She is classy.

Me: She’s so gd classy.

She’s great.

Mandy: Yayyy Ben.

Me: Omg!

Mandy: He looks vindicated.

Me: I’m so happy for him. And Clooney.

Me: Take that Oscars!

Me: Bennnnnnnnn.

Me: I love him damnit!

Mandy: I love how him and Clooney are friends.

Me: Buds.

Mandy: I gotta go to bed, lol. Goodnight!

Me: Night!

Justice.

Mo’ Money, Mo’ Problems. Part I.

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As another workweek draws to a close, I am reminded of one of my favorite phrases: “Mo’ money, Mo’ problems”.

But… not really. Whoever believes that having more money would really be a problem is a liar. I enjoy nice things. So, in order to finance these things, I gotta’ bring in that money. At this point in my life I was pretty convinced I would already be married and living off my rich, powerful, and sensitive Alpha Male’s steady income (not to mention, his health benefits). But, since I’ve woken up from that dream, I have to pick myself out of bed every morning and hoof it to my job. Let’s discuss the difference a job and a career.

Careers define you. A career is what you’ve always wanted to do. When people ask, “Now dear, what do you do for a living?”, you are able to actually smile and truthfully tell them. You go to work satisfied and you can see yourself doing this for years to come. There is a sense of stability, plus room for advancement. Obviously, not every day, every week, or even every year, within your career will be sunshine and butterflies. However, you are as close as you are going to get to perfection. *Bonus: In this perfect world, your expensive college degree helped launch you into this career.

Jobs, on the other hand, are soul-suckers. A routine morning while working your job most likely includes pulling crinkly pants out of the dryer and pouring yourself a gallon of coffee five minutes before you head out the door. You don’t tell anyone what your true job title is. For example, if you are a cashier at a coffee shop, you tell everyone that you are in finance. Cashier, money… Money, finance… Sort-of see the connection? Anyway, while driving to your job, stuck in rush hour traffic, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the review mirror. You worry your whole life is passing you by and you wipe one stray tear off your cheek. This tear represents your hopes and dreams. In layman’s terms, jobs suck.

I like to think others are stuck in this rut between jobs and careers. I like to think many people are confused about what the future will bring. I also choose to believe there are others out there who put on their armor and head out each day to charge the battlefield.

As you are probably aware, this professional battlefield is riddled with bosses and co-workers. These bosses and co-workers come in many different variations and here is my two-cents…

Bosses: We’ve all experienced the goofy Michael Scott’s, the Office Space inspired Lumbergs, the tyrant Miranda Priestly’s and the ever-so-greedy Mr. Burns’s at the workplace. If you are blessed enough to have an amazing boss, count your lucky stars. The boss is the commander of the workplace, they give orders, determine camaraderie, and choose who lives and who dies. There are several different types of bosses you will encounter in the workforce.

Best Buds Boss: This boss wants nothing more than to be liked. This boss wants the 411 (they’ll, of course, use annoying catch phrases like 411) and will do anything to be on the inside of an inside joke. They are constantly walking around laughing in the middle of conversations they were not apart of, popping their nose over your cube to seeing what your plans are for lunch, and always refers to themselves as the cool boss. And as you know, the cool boss never has to refer to themself as the cool boss. Although this boss can be annoying at times, it is definitely the lesser of the boss evils.

The Dictator: Although you have worked there for 5 years, this boss still doesn’t know your name. You give them undeserved credit for somewhat knowing your name. Example if your name is Jane you also go by Joan, Jess, Jamie, Jenny, and your personal favorite Michelle. You are convinced this boss was born with a permanent scowl tattooed on their face. You live in constant fear of the day they crack a smile because it probably means you’re dead or in some alternate universe. This boss doesn’t know how to do anything around the office. You and your co-workers have absolutely no idea how they got promoted or even hired in the first place. These bosses are amazing at delegation. They delegate their job to you. It is important not to quickly finish up your daily tasks because this boss will not reward you for getting done early and send you home — They will remind you of that 200 slide PowerPoint they need from you for their presentation. While working for this boss, you spend your time daydreaming of the Christmas Eve when your boss is visited by three ghosts and miraculously awakes the next day a change person. Hang in there daydream-believer, it could happen.

An Officer and a Gentleman: This is the boss you respect. You look at this boss as a mentor and they not only make you better at what you do but they push you to be the best you can be. You’ll bend over backwards for this boss. (No, not in bed – Even if you might want to). These bosses are usually the main reason you have stuck by this dead-end job for six years and counting. You dread the day this boss gets married and you have to change jobs due to emotional distress.

Co-workers: These are the people you were not given the chance to choose nor did you ask for them to be in your life. You are paid to interact with these people 40+ hours a week and even if you were paid in gold, you’re still not sure if it would be worth it. Yes, sometimes you do have those co-workers that become outside-of-the-office friends, but that is a rare blessing. (Note: The following descriptions are designed with the single gal in mind – You’ll understand, keep reading)

Here’s the starting lineup for your office:

Mother Goose: This co-worker has married off all seven of her children and made you her next conquest. As soon as she finds out you’re single, she will deliver you a daily list of her available nephews, neighbors, the mail guy, and even the bagger at the grocery store whom you are convinced is only 14. She’ll give you that awkward winky-face whenever a cute guy walks in and will slyly ask about his wife/girlfriend/fiancé to check on his relationship status. Even though she brings the thought of your single-ness to the forefront of your mind on a daily basis, you know that she means well and plus, she is one of the few people out there truly trying to help you snag a husband. *Bonus: You don’t mind her homemade treats and dishes she brings to the potlucks.

Miss Off-The-Market: This co-worker will sow her wild oats by living vicariously through your dating faux pas. She laughs hysterically at your single gal stories and is the first one to ask how that ‘big date’ went. This one always makes you feel like a dating warrior when she asks questions or makes statements such as: “I don’t know how you do it, I’d be so lonely!”, “I’ve just never been single, so I don’t know what its like!”,  or “You just do whatever you want, whenever you want?” These comments, again, bring the fact that you are single to the forefront of your mind on a daily basis. It’s fun to talk to these people because they seem to have a slight twinge of jealousy about your solo-riding life.

Mr. Off-The-Market: While you gaze upon this guy as a success story for some other female out there, he sees you as, Seabiscuit, a horse with a bum leg who should just be put out of her misery. To him, you’re past your prime. In his opinion, if you haven’t been scooped up yet, you ain’t neva gonna get scooped up. He views your funny dating stories as a stairway to bitter spinsterhood. He is quick to give examples of how his girlfriend is superior in every possible way to you. This guy doesn’t understand how you manage to survive without a male presence in your live. Your goal in life is to prove him wrong.

Mr. Office Casanova: This is the guy you fell in love with on the first day on the job. Of course, you didn’t act on it because you’re a classy lady. This guy knows how to work the crowd around the water cooler. This is the guy the other guys look up to and the guy all the girls shamelessly flirt with. None of the women in the office truly want to start a full-fledged relationship with Mr. Office Casanova, but they want him to want them. This guy is the Venus flytrap — Alluring at first, but if you get too close you’re gonna get snapped at. Be careful with this one, I’m 99% sure he has an STD from Lisa in accounting who always has lipstick on her teeth and wears work inappropriate outfits.

Mr. Prince Charming: This is the guy you wake up and go to work for everyday. You get the butterflies when this guy is around and you always go home and tell your friends stories detailing how he stopped by your desk and told you a funny story or gave you a piece of gum (Such special moments). This guy is on a pedestal you will never climb. Every weekend you tell yourself that you’re over him and that this week you will just look at him strictly as a friend… Then Monday rolls around and he is somehow holding a baby at work and he looks so completely adorable it makes your uterus skip a beat. Andddd you’re sucked right back in.

…There are many other work place people and dilemmas I will be discussing, so keep an eye out for Mo’ Money, Mo’ Problems Part II.

Grocery shopping. My personal hell.

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Going grocery shopping is the absolute most dreaded thing I do. Ever. I know, I know. You’re probably saying, “Sounds like a case of ‘First World Problems’, Stace”. But seriously. There is not one, let me repeat, not ONE good thing that comes from going to the grocery store. Let me map this out for you.

Of course, we all have to nourish ourselves. And yes, this is much easier as of late. Long gone are the days of hunting and gathering. Now, we all herd into the local Kroger, Meijer, Whole Foods, or whatever, gather the necessities and return to our caves. I suppose I should be relieved that the whole hunting part is somewhat gone, because for us single gals, we don’t have a hunter to do the dirty work.

Parking. No matter what time I go to the grocery store, there will be two things that occur. It will be raining. Even in the dead of winter or on a bright, sunny day in July, there will be precipitation. Also, I will have to park the length of three football fields away from the entrance. How is it that there are never any spots available near the front? Next, let’s talk about my hair. My lovely hair that I attempted to make look decent incase I somehow run into the man of my dreams while picking up tortillas for taco night, will disappoint me. Awesome. My hair and the rain will band together and sabotage me. My hair will become a frizz ball that takes on a mind of its own. My personal favorite is when the front few strands begin to morph into Farrah Fawcett’s do, while the back turns into the look I rocked after bath time circa 7-9 years of age.

Phew, I’ve made it inside the store. Now, the question of carts comes into play. I am given three options. First, the basket. The cutesy basket that gives off the message, “I plan ahead and I don’t need a ton of food because I already have plenty at home. I’m just here to pick up a few things like a leafy head of lettuce and a baguette. I’m so modern chic”. The second option is the big cart. This cart is just impossible to maneuver. Each aisle can comfortably support about 2 of these carts and you know each aisle will be jam-packed with about 7 carts. The third option, my favorite option, the single’s cart. You know this cart. The slightly smaller cart, perfectly made for one. This gives off a few different vibes as well. If you’re a guy: “Hi. I’m single, I need help shopping, and I look so goddamn adorable pushing this smaller cart around this store – – I’m cute”. If you’re a girl: “HI. I’M SINGLE”. I have begun to embrace the single’s cart. It really is the perfect size for all of my purchases.

After the cart is chosen, I actually need to do the deed. I need to shop. Here is when a list comes in handy. A list that rarely gets made. If a list is miraculously made, I most likely forgot it at home or in the car. And that car, as you know, is way to far away to turn back now. Then, I must decide how I want to conquer this bitch. I decided a long time ago that I grocery shop like I drive. This essentially means I grocery shop erratically, without reason, rushed, in the fast lane, and (occasionally) rear-ending other shoppers. My shopping style aside, once I’m in – I’m committed.

The next problem lies with the aisle distribution. Who designs these places? Obviously, these mazes are designed by someone who has a personal shopper that they enjoy torturing. Once I start this venture, I will (without a doubt) realize I need 3 things from aisle 1 that I forget to grab just as I am about to round Aisle 17. Here is when my internal grocery store pep talks begin. I tell myself if I don’t return to aisle 1 now, I will forget those 3 precious items. So, I detour back to aisle 1. My inner GPS recalculates me back to aisle 17 (after re-passing everything else that I have forgotten in aisles 2-16, obviously). Once I make it back to aisle 17, my cart is usually quite full and I decide it’s definitely time to go.

Before I can make a mad dash for the exit, I will run into someone I know. It is never fun running into anyone you know at the grocery store. Mainly, because it’s not very fun running into someone you know anywhere, let alone the grocery store. These people are definitely people you don’t really feel like talking to in the middle of the frozen-food aisle between Hot Pockets and the assorted DiGiorno pizzas. But of course, this person will stop you and talk to you. These people range from your mom’s co-worker to your old babysitter. You don’t remember them what-so-ever. However, they will inevitably say things like, “You’ve truly grown into a beautiful young woman” or “I still remember those Power Ranger pajamas you loved!” They will trap you in the frozen-food aisle for so long you have had time to mentally catalog the TGIF’s frozen Appe-Teasers into ‘Most likely to buy’ and ‘Never, ever, going to buy’ categories. By the time you have decided to dive right into that cooler and grab the green bean fries, they finally wrap up conversation and you are left wishing you could remember an ounce of the conversation. You know your mom will be asking for each and every detail once this said person tells your mom they ran into you. Oh well.

The next thing I always run into… everything else I didn’t know I wanted or needed. During this final hour of grocery store desperation, I have decided I want it and I need it. I will somehow backtrack to the cosmetic aisle. Here, I will ponder all of my make-up necessities at home and wonder if I need a refill of anything. I will, of course, not need anything. Then, I will walk away with new eyeliner, lipstick, and a new shade of nail polish. I will finish with a final sweep: A pint of ice cream and probably a Cosmo at the register. Oh, and a pack of gum.

Now, another really fun part. Paying. Enough said.

Here we are, the finale. Face-to-face with the most dreaded part of the entire event – – Taking it all home. The entire process leads up to this point. My groceries are bagged, I’ve trucked the miles back to my car, and made it home in one piece. I now have to carry the groceries in and unload them all. Ugh. With a huge side of UGH.

Grocery shopping is exhausting and I truly hope to pay someone to do this for me one day. By the time the groceries are unpacked and I finally sit down — All I want to do is order a pizza. Good grief.

Why I don’t hate Valentine’s Day this year.

Alright, so tomorrow is February 14th. As I sit here on the eve of Valentine’s day, I feel (surprisingly) content. Past years, I would have been asleep hours ago via a Nyquil-Moscato induced coma. I wouldn’t say I’m usually depressed around Valentine’s day — it’s just always held more of a “let’s just get this fucking day over with already” feel throughout the years.

I know what you’re probably thinking, “Obviously, she’s IN LOVE this year”. Au contraire my friends. I am not in love and I am not dating anyone. Actually, I am probably the furthest away from being in love this year. Now thinking about it, maybe that’s why this year I’m okay with the calendar flipping to 2/14/13.

The past few years have been pretty tough on my cardiac muscle. I won’t bore you with any sob stories. The highlights include, but are not limited to, the following:

  • Dating your run-of-the-mill douchebags.
  • Becoming “The Other Woman” without realizing it. (Yeah, I know)
  • Getting dumped by a co-worker, for a co-worker.
  • Reappearing exes who apparently just want to relive the heartbreak.

And possibly the worst:

  • One major case of unrequited love.

By taking a look at that stellar love-resume, I’m sure most would agree that I am a cynic when it comes to matters of the heart. And most days, I would agree. I believe that there are a lot, and I mean a lot, of assholes out there. And I also believe that these monsters are only motivated by their selfishness. So yes, I’m a cynic! Sue me! Can’t a girl just be angry about love without being THE angry girl about love? I guess not.

But not this year. I refuse to let my cynical methodology rule every feeling I will ever experience. And more importantly, I refuse to be affected by Valentine’s day. This year, I’m also not going to belittle the holiday. That’s right, I just referred to Valentine’s day as a holiday. Not a Hallmark Holiday, existing primarily for commercial purpose. A real, line-it-up-next-to-Christmas-Thanksgiving-and-Halloween-holiday.

I hope every store that sells anything resembling chocolate from Russell Stover and Godiva to Walgreens and your neighborhood Piggly-Wiggly, is stocked and ready for the last-minute lovers trekking to the stores tomorrow. I hope all the oversized-teddy-bears with heart-shaped-eyes that exist in the world have been purchased with “special someones” in mind. I hope tomorrow there are couples who will sway to the timeless love lyrics of Barry White, Frank Sinatra, and Celine Dion. I hope these couples end their evenings with unbelievable-can’t-get-enough-mindblowing-sex.

On the flip side of this coin, I also hope that all those single guys and gals out there have a fabulous day. I hope these singles aren’t overwhelmed with their current relationship status. I hope these singles don’t refer to tomorrow as “Singles Awareness Day”. I hope (and urge) these singles to avoid all social media outlets – Yes, I’m talking your Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. These sites will only be riddled with things you don’t want to see. I’ll save you the time, here is what you’re missing:

  • Status updates: Happy Valentine’s day to the best boyfriend a girl could ask for! Here’s to many, many more baby! (Insert some sort of annoying Emoji)
  • Pictures: (These can vary) Usually, the pictures will be an array of vases of flowers, chocolates, engagement rings, etc.

I’m telling you, stay away from these sites. Back to my hopes — I also hope that these singles have other single friends to lean on, other single friends to buy tacky gifts for and share a bottle of wine (or three) with. I also hope that there is unbelievable-can’t-get-enough-mindblowing-sex for the singles. I don’t discriminate, sex for all!

As for me, I will be spending Valentine’s day with my traditional plans. My best friend (who happens to be in a long-term relationship and still says I’m her Valentine’s date now and forever — I know, I know, I am one lucky bitch) and I will go to our local Olive Garden only to wait an ungodly amount of time for a table, order wine, appetizers, and entrees. Then we will venture to our favorite fro-yo establishment and treat ourselves to the “big” portion cups – You know, because it’s a special occasion and all. Gotta love tradition. Then I’ll drop her off to her apartment, live-in boyfriend, and puppy. I’ll then drive home, most likely listening to Taylor Swift, and open a bottle of Riesling when I arrive. If I get really crazy, maybe a swig of Zquil. Hmm… I guess tomorrow will be like all my other Valentine’s days. Geeesh.

Well, time has gotten away from me during this post (actually I’ve been catching up on my DVR while typing — Big things happened on Nashville this week, folks. I really hope I’m not the only person in the world watching that show…) It is officially February 14, 2013.

Here’s to another Valentine’s day.

xoxo stacey

Am I doing this right?

My good friend, Wikipedia, shared with me that a blog is, “a discussion or informational site published on the World Wide Web and consisting of discrete entries (“posts”) typically displayed in reverse chronological order”.

Well, Wiki, thank you. That long-winded explanation can be easily surmised by saying, “a place where anyone, at anytime, from anywhere, can post their mindless, irrelevant, and mostly insane bullshit for the world to see”. 

And here I am. Jumping onto this ship. The blogging ship. A ship that’s clearly going down in flames. And these aren’t your typical flames. You’re probably picturing some majestic ship, sinking with billowing-smoke-filled-flames…slowly descending into the depths of the ocean.

Not quite.

This sinking ship pretty much consists of a few bamboo twigs, strung together with dental floss. Think something “Lost”-esque (made by Hurley, not Sawyer). Now I know you’re probably saying, “Hey, who does she think she is??” or “I know plenty of great bloggers!” or “I have an AMAZING blog!” or, probably the most frequently asked, “Who IS this girl?”. First, I’ll get to “Who I am” later… Secondly, I somewhat agree with you. There are some good blogs. There are some interesting bloggers. However, when I was at my local CVS the other morning and I overheard the thirty-seven-year-old cashier going on and on about her blog dedicated to Honey-Boo-Boo, I decided I had to do something. 

But what was little ol’ me to do? Obviously, my first option was to write a strongly worded, hand written letter to President Obama. Asking kindly for him to shut down all blogs. And while he’s at it, could he push a special button that would disable the “comment” section that follows every, single story on the internet? That would be great, thanks. Well, as my first option did not immediately pan out with oval office stamp of success, I decided to go in the complete opposite direction. 

If you can’t beat em’, join em’.

So here I am. Officially starting a blog. Weird. On a more serious note, I actually do have some things that I feel like sharing with the world and now, the internet is my oyster (or however that saying goes…). 

Here we go World Wide Web, get ready for my tales of mindless, irrelevant, and mostly insane bullshit.

til next time, stacey