How to live with a guy… When you’re not dating.

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Over the past two-ish years (and counting), I’ve lived with two different guys, both of whom I was not dating – or sleeping with. Each situation was different, here’s a little back-story on the guys and what I’ve learned on this adventure…

Kevin: I moved in with Kevin in the spring of 2011. I think I probably would have had more hesitation moving in with a male, but luckily for me, I was bringing along my best friend, Mandy. Long story short, Three’s Company was born. Towards the summer of 2012, our lease was up. Mandy left us both for her new boyfriend, Kevin moved in with friends closer to school, and I moved home…ugh.

Summer of 2012, there I was – back living at my parents. I had my master’s degree and six years of independence under my belt. To avoid complete depression, I would float in and out of appreciating the fact that I was having home-cocked meals on the reg, saving money, and banking on free laundry services.

The main reasons I moved home were one: renting a place in the area I wanted to live was so expensive, it was pretty much throwing away money and two: I am too big of a chicken to live alone. To all the single gals who are brave enough to live in a place by yourself — hats off to you, apartment warrior. For the rest of us (not willing to buy a cat – yet) we choose to live with a roommate so we don’t have to come home to the sad silence of the jingle-jangle of Kitty Kitty’s bell.

So, the decision to leave the nest. This decision comes to everyone at some point in their life. Usually, the decision to leave the comfort of your parent’s home comes about over the following two reasons.

Reason 1: You’ve decided to pack up that yellow Volkswagen bug, put in the mix cd titled “Go Your Own Way”, and start off on the adventure of adulthood, i.e.: college out of town, job supporting yourself, following your dreams, etc.

Reason 2: Health reasons. The health of you and the health of your parents. If one of you doesn’t get out of here soon, someone’s not going to make it. There will be a casualty… and lets face it, parents are pretty reluctant to leave. So, you have chosen the high road and let them keep the house.

Now what?

Chris: I was at home for about two months when I received a very random text from my friend Chris. He was wondering if I had figured out my life and if I had any interest in moving back. He wanted to get a really nice place and needed someone to go in on it with (I = $$$). Another very long story short – – about a month later, I moved into a two-bedroom condo with Chris.

Here’s a list of what I’ve learned (thus far) living with a guy…

Men are just as dramatic as women

When I moved in with Kevin and when I moved in with Chris, I wasn’t necessarily jumping for joy. I was going to miss my girl time. The late night ice cream raids, staying up talking till 4am, and being able to share clothes and shoes. The one thing I was not going to miss was the occasional drama. I was pretty pumped to live with in a drama-free zone with a guy. Boy was I wrong.

Guys are just as dramatic! They get moody, give attitude, and they also have perfected the silent treatment. WHO KNEW!? So much for living a drama-free lifestyle… But you know what, I still enjoy late night ice cream raids and staying up talking till 4am. No sharing of the clothes, thankfully.

Motherly Instincts

With both guys, the day that I moved in I was overcome with some weird “motherly” feeling. Let me explain.

Cleaning. After moving in, I quickly realized that I would be in charge of the cleanliness of the living space. That may sound sexist, and it probably is. The thing is, I know both guys would clean; the problem came into play when they realized that I would (and will) clean everything. They’d have to leave dirty dishes in the sink jusssssst long enough to bother me and I’ll take care of it. Now thinking about it, this is probably their plan. WTF. Never mind, they would never be smart enough to pull that off.

Worrying. Just like any mother, I became an obsessive worrier. Let’s start with how I would worry about their eating habits. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t believe a bag of Doritos and a can of Mt. Dew constitutes a meal? Or literally living off noodles and nothing else can’t be healthy, right?

I also worried when they would get sick. There really is nothing more pathetic than a sick guy. First, they pretend that they aren’t sick for about two to three days. “No, that’s not a cough – I just had an itchy throat.”  “No, I don’t look pale, I just, uh, haven’t gotten much sun lately.” “No, I didn’t just sleep for 16 hours straight, I, uh, just leave me alone!” So, after the denial stage has phased out, it’s time to run for the hills.

I can’t speak for all guys when I say this, but seriously, all guys turn into miserable babies when they get sick. They don’t want to be bothered; yet they want you to help nurse them back to health. They will tell you, “I’m actually feeling much better, I’m not sick at all,” while the same time they are on the phone with their mother whining and explaining in detail how truuuuuly sick they are. Thankfully, like clockwork, after three days this all will pass.

Nosey. After growing up with a sister and then living with many girls throughout college, I got pretty used to knowing what was going on with my roommates at all times. This changed (big time) when I moved in with a guy. I officially became “nosey”.

Apparently asking, “Where are you going?” is against all rules and makes you “nosey”. If I was to get an answer besides, “(Heavy sigh)” or “Do you really need to know?” I would usually get the go-to: “Out”. Fortunately, I broke down the walls of both guys and they learned that the one-word answers were not going to fly.

Another “no-no” was asking about any lady friends. When I lived with girls, I knew who they liked, who they were hooking up with, how their dating life was going, and so forth. Living with guys on the other hand, was a completely different story. Both guys that I have lived with were single or are single. Whenever they were interested in a girl or had some new girl in the picture, it was like I was trying to break into Fort Knox to get any information. Another “nosey” quality of mine. Geeesh.

My television time changed dramatically

I’ve now logged more hours with SportsCenter than any one person should be objected to. That’s all I have to say about this topic.

I became sneaky

I’ve learned how to be very sneaky. I’m not sure if I was a sneaky person before or why I became sneaky but there are just some things that the guys I’m living with don’t need to know. Now this is all going to sound very hypocritical because I just got done explaining why the guys shouldn’t call me nosey and now I’m explaining why they should stay out of my business. What? A lady deserves some privacy!

Anyway, Chris is pretty laid back and I haven’t had to hide much from him. On the other hand, when I lived with Kevin… he was like a CIA agent who knew everything. I would be leaving in the morning for work and I would get the suspicious eyes from him, “So Stacey, I heard the front door open pretty late last night…did you have a guest? Who was he??” How did he even hear the door?! Can’t I have a mystery visitor?! Ugh. So I guess one could say I learned from living under Big Brother’s watch with Kevin…

Endlessly answering the question, “You’re just friends??”

One of my all-time favorite movies is When Harry Met Sally. In the beginning of the movie, Harry and Sally get into a discussion about whether or not a man and a woman can be friends. Harry believes that there is no possibility of a male and female being completely platonic. Sally disagrees.

I’m here to set the record straight. It IS possible for a man and a woman to just be friends. I swear! I have lived with two straight men, no romantic inclinations, and we’re still friends (GASP!).

I know, I know. You’re probably skeptical. Well, get in line. You can get in line behind my friends, co-workers, my mom, their moms, etc. No one can believe that we can live together and just be friends. It’s a very difficult concept, apparently. I get it though, from the outside looking in, I can see what others see. There’s a penis and a vagina living under one roof… obviously something will happen. Sorry to burst everyone’s dreams, but there is no funny business going on with these guys and me.

…All in all, I’ve experienced a lot living with a guy that I am neither romantically involved with nor sleeping with. I can only imagine what else I’ll learn… stay tuned!

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You’re Invited: It’s Shower Season!

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It was beautiful outside this past weekend. You know, those rare winter days when the sun is shining for the first time in weeks – like really shining. One of those days where you don’t feel the need to wear a jacket because it’s so deceivingly beautiful out. The best part of this type of day is that you can smell spring attempting to creep around the corner. I for one, am ready to bid adieu to winter. I’m tired of the boots, the 4 layers of shirts, and especially the slippery, icy walkways that I seem to fall on every other day. I’m ready for summer — Dresses, flip-flops, ice cream runs, and bonfire nights.

The major problem(s) with spring are the showers. And I’m not talking about the precipitation. I’m talking about bridal and baby shower season.

I remember a time when the worst thing I was receiving in the mail were bills – – Not anymore, sister. Now, around March, April, and May, my mailbox becomes a breeding ground for baby shower invites and wedding “Save-the-dates”. Before this posting really gets rolling, I need to first make a disclaimer.

DISCLAIMER: I, the author of the content of this blog, can assure you, the reader, that while the following may depict a side of myself that loathes the very thought of attending a bridal/baby shower, my feelings will still be extremely hurt if I am not invited as result of this posting. I may bring my snarky attitude but I also bring awesome gifts. The choice is yours.

Back to business.

Time. Food. Pressure.

These three elements blend together to form the trifecta of my perfect storm known as shower season.

My first bone to pick with shower season is time. Obviously you can’t expect someone to hold a shower on a weekday because who would come then? So yes, it makes sense that 99% of showers are held on the weekend.  However, this is basically telling me: “Hey, I know the weather is finally looking nice and you may want to use a free weekend to, oh I don’t know, get crazy and just walk around outside or stay at home and just relax – – But now, you have to spend your entire day at a shower!” Show me someone who says that a shower doesn’t last all day and I’ll show you a liar.

A shower could start at 11am, 1pm, or 3pm (all standard starting times for a shower) and I promise that your whole day is fucked. Also, I truly believe there is a special place in hell reserved for people who hold their showers on a Saturday. These events should be made to ruin my Sundays and only my Sundays.

Here’s a birds-eye-view example:

Sunday: Shower @ 1pm

8am: Roll out of bed. Shower. Pretend to eat breakfast but just end up having a Diet Coke. Get caught up in a Lifetime movie… You know the one, usually the flick where DJ from Full House plays a teenage girl who is dating the star football player and everything is daisies. Then we find out he’s an abusive boyfriend (GASP!) The remainder of the film is her trying to get out of the relationship but always “trusting him again” and she turns on all of her friends until she hits complete rock bottom. That one always sucks me in.

10am: I’ve finally removed myself from the couch (DJ got away from the loser boyfriend and he was arrested, phew). Time to get dressed and out the door.

11am: Finally leaving the house. Yes, it took me an hour to get dressed. It’s not easy to pick out an outfit when you’re staring at your closet with the following thoughts going through your head:

A: I can’t wear this because I wear this to the bar and my mom will undoubtedly make a comment. (Mom decoder: “Gee, that’s awfully short…” = “You should change your clothes.”)

B: I can’t wear this because I’m not 70 years old — Where did I even buy this?

C: What will give off the vibe: “I am no where near getting married and the thought of having a baby happens to scare the shit out of me but I’m doing great, THANKS.”

D: DON’T I OWN ANYTHING NICE!?

It is incredibly difficult to get a move on and out the door when you can’t dress yourself. As usual, after everything that was hanging in my closet is now in one huge heap on the floor, I will be leaving the house in a blouse and my classic black pencil skirt. I’m so typical.

11:30am: I’ve arrived at either A: Bed, Bath, and Beyond or B: Babies R’ Us. Yes, I waited until the absolute last minute to pick up a gift… doesn’t everyone? Anyway, I make my way over to the gift registry area, on my way I realize that I chose the wrong shoes to wear – – I’ve been on my feet for all of what, two minutes? I can already feel blisters trying to kill me from within. Ugh. I am greeted at the registry by some teeny-bopper who rolls her eyes while I attempt to remember how to spell the last name of the said person I am there for. After what seems like an eternity, that sweet angel of an employee hands me the printed registry list and the real horror sets in.

Great, every single decent thing on this registry has been bought. That’s what you get for waiting until AN HOUR before the event. Oooooh, I could buy the one set of hand towels that is left OR the $599.99 mixer (in Mint Julep). Decisions, decisions. This is about the time I decide to go rogue and this is also when I get in even bigger trouble.

12:15pm: YES, IT’S NOW 12:15. I’M STILL AT THE STORE.

12:30pm: I’ve made a decision. Usually some sort of china set/piece or a vase that is really nice and hopefully can actually be useful. I hope.

12:45pm: I’m screaming at my iPhone because I am now lost and cannot find the quaint clubhouse/hall/restaurant/house/WHATEVER. This is when I usually call one of my allies that will be at the said event and beg them to give me turn-by-turn directions. I’m also trying to sign the card at each red light I am stopped at.

1:10pm: I arrive. Only 10 minutes late (even in my hypothetical blog scenario, I’m late).

2:00pm: I’m still wondering why events haven’t happened. Why aren’t we at least eating?! THE FOOD IS RIGHT THERE. Literally, right there. I could grab it with my hand if I reached out my arm. But no, we have to wait. Wait and mingle. Mingling is the worst. Here is where the two final components of the shower season trifecta come into play.

Food: I have many problems with the food aspect of a shower. First, you never know what to expect. At some showers the “spread” simply includes chips and pop (cheapskates) and at other showers there are full meals served (trying a little hard?). There’s no consistency. How can a girl plan? Of course, it never fails that when I hedge my bets and eat before the shower, I’ll arrive and it will be a sit down meal. When I don’t eat beforehand, I’ll be rationing those fluffy pastel mints for the remainder of the shower. My other problem with the food aspect are the food choices. When did chicken salad croissants become the go-to shower food? I enjoy chicken salad but can’t we spice it up, people? Get creative. Another offender: Watermelon, hollowed out and filled up with a variety of different fruits. Ugh. I would be delighted to show up at a shower and they were like SURPRISE! We’re having mac n’ cheese and DOUBLE SURPRISE, you can take it to-go, because this shower is over! Am I in heaven?

During this awkward mingle time, the last part of the trifecta comes up.

Pressure: On a daily basis I don’t feel much pressure about being single. I have amazing friends, family, an incredible education, and a job that I actually like getting up and going to every morning. Things for me… are pretty good. Of course there are certain times or days when I think that having that “special someone” in my life would be nice, but most days, I’m pretty content. One situation that causes me to feel “the pressure” is shower season.

The first part of the pressure that comes is from myself. When my mailbox is full of “Save the dates” and I’m running out of magnets because my fridge is covered with ultrasound-baby-shower-invites, I can’t help but think I’m missing something. I usually equate it to this: It’s like watching all your friends move on to junior high, while you’re being held back in fifth grade, still trying to master times tables. It makes me feel behind the curve and wonder, “Well fuck. Why am I single?”

At showers, two things will happen if you’re single: “hypothetical talk” and “dodge ball”. When I say “hypothetical talk” I’m describing the comments like, “Well, someday for your shower….” or “I’ll have to remember this for you one day”. While I play along with this, I’m always thinking… “Will there be a shower for me??” I can’t even predict what the next week of my life will look like, let alone fathom the idea that I will forrrrr sure get married and have a baby (fingers crossed in that order).

The second part, “dodge ball”, also happens during mingling. This is when I swerve, avoid, duck, and obviously, dodge, questions about my single status. There is always a friend, or mother of a friend, etc., who for whatever reason needs to know why I am single and what I am doing to counteract this. “You’re so accomplished and beautiful… But your mother must really be hankering for some grandkids! You better start trying a little harder missy!” I would love to respond, “Um, that started as a compliment, right…? Did you just say ‘hankering’…? Are my reproductive choices any of your damn business…? By the way, I hate you.” But instead, I choose the much higher road – – Avoidance, or “dodge ball” as I’ve coined it.

Back to the schedule…

2:30pm: We are now an hour and a half in… and we are released to eat. Chicken salad – – surprise, surprise.

2:50pm: The games. Ugh, with a double side of ugh. Does anyone like the games? That was a trick question – – No one likes the games. No one wants to play the games, but it’s just what you do. It’s tradition. And plus, I’m super competitive and sure, I’d like to walk away with some free antibacterial soap from Bath & Body Works… Hopefully an apple scent.

3:30pm: The presents are still not opened. I repeat, the presents are still not opened. Everyone knows that it would be extremely rude to leave before presents are opened. And you can’t just duck out. I may be sarcastic and snarky, but I’m not rude. Once I’ve committed, I’m committed. In my dream world, when the bride/expectant mother opened my gift she would look to the crowd and see a very adorable, thin, cardboard cutout of myself giving them the thumbs-up sign. Meanwhile, I’d be at home, catching up on my DVR.

4:00pm: We are now in hour three. Presents are being opened. I’ve already used my allotted 37 “oooohs” and 42 “ahhhhhhs” and I even hit quota with 25 “Howwwww cuuuuuuuute”. It’s time to go.

4:45pm: I’m helping clean up. Because I love my friends. And obviously hate myself.

5:15pm: Saying my good-byes. Somehow, I get caught up in a conversation with some friends I don’t see nearly enough and before I know it, there’s a dinner plan in the making. For tonight.

5:30pm: I’m riding shotgun in my college roommate’s car and we’re off to “dollar taco” night with a bunch of my old sorority sisters.

Like I said, showers take up the ENTIRE day.

Happy Shower Season to you all.

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.

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