A Neek Holiday Letter, Because

Dear friends, family, and random strangers,

What up, yo! As some of you (mainly the family) will recall, back in the day I used to send an annual Christmas letter. This was mainly because my mother forced me to, but it was totes popular regardless. No for realz. People loved that shiz.

Anywho, I started getting holiday cards this year and after a second of thinking “that’s so adorable why don’t I send them!” remembered that I only get stamps roughly once a decade and so jealously guard them for a slow, purposeful use over time. Also I don’t collect addresses. Also I’d have to write in cards, and my handwriting is atrocious and requires me to really concentrate since there’s no autocorrect. So I realized the next best thing was to create a “virtual” holiday card! Except not really a card, but more of a letter. This is basically an attempt for me to brag on what happened this year. Prepare yourself, because it’s super exciting.

Early on in the year, one of the posts from this blog went viral-ish. This was due to absolutely no effort on my behalf, which is the best kind of accomplishment. I celebrated for days. DAYS! People got a little sick of hearing about it. I have no regrets.

In May I visited my brother and went to the best laser tag place ever. I managed to scar my elbow and actually was the top performer for my team in MORE THAN ONE ROUND (I emphasize this, so you know it wasn’t a fluke).

This came at the cost of my knee pestering me for a few days, but overall the knee struggle has been not as real this year. I am knocking on so much wood right now. You have no idea. Of course all of my major bad knee days have been during vacation (visiting my brother, hitting Universal Studios, going wild in Vegas). Figures.

Speaking of vacation, this year I had what I have deemed the most traumatic experience of my life. I also got LASIK. More on the LASIK momentarily. What was my traumatic experience, you ask? THE FREAKING HARRY POTTER RIDE AT UNIVERSAL STUDIOS!! I screamed, I cried, I almost vomited. Never again.

In comparison, LASIK was crazy easy. Actually it just happened last week so don’t hold me to that if I accidentally blind myself during the continuing healing process. Sure, you can smell the laser burning out your eye and that’s mildly disturbing, but on the other hand now I CAN SEE. #worth

Other things you may have missed this year?

• I received the FUN award at my company this summer, along with some others last week I’m not quite as proud of (Most Likely To Need Rudolph’s Guidance Home After The Party and Most Likely To Bring Their Own Mistletoe).
• I completed NaNoWriMo again! If you have no idea what that means we clearly aren’t really friends, and you should read my friend Erin’sblog for some background.
• I created an Instagram account finally, which is mainly used for nail art. Baby, I was born to nail art. No really, this is like a secret skill I didn’t know I have. Yay for developing new skills!

Was there anything here you didn’t know about yet? Anything peak your interest for further blog writing? Let me know in the comments.

And may your holidays be bright and not filled with Star Wars spoilers! 

Miss Goody Two-Shoes

Whenever I describe my mother to someone, I get a look. It’s a look I recognize, although I never acknowledge it. It’s a look that says, “you realize you just described yourself, right?”

I can understand this, as my mother and I do have a few similarities. We’re both short. We both frequently have reddish hair. We both seem insanely nice and are easily amused. However in my humble opinion there is a huge difference between us.

Remember how I said we both seem insanely nice? Well, my mother is legit nice and adorable and goodness and sugar and all those things. Apparently she was the perfect child. I’ve heard this from several reliable sources (basically all of her siblings, and her mother). She can’t even get mad properly. Sure, if you’re under the age of three, you might be a little intimidated when she starts yelling gibberish. When she’s really mad, there may even be a curse word included here and there. But let’s be honest, for anyone who’s not a toddler, her random outbursts don’t accomplish anything than making you want to pat her on the head and go “there, there.”

For the record, while no one believes this initially, me when I’m truly angry is actually a terrifying thing to behold. Avoid it.

But the main reason I don’t consider myself to be like my mother isn’t because she fails at being angry, but the larger problem: her goody-two-shoes-ness.

My mother is the ultimate goody two-shoes. So much so, that in our family she is routinely referred to as Miss Two-Shoes. The goody isn’t even implied, it’s just known.

I swear too I’m not saying this because the rest of the people in my family are deviants that like to torture each other, and in comparison my mother comes off like a saint. My mother legitimately seems compelled to follow the rules that everyone else feels free to ignore, whether they be actual laws or mere social conventions. 

For instance:

• She is the only person I know who actually comes to a full stop at the guard shack when leaving the gated community where my parents live. The guards barely give a f*** who’s coming into the community, let alone who leaves. She also insisted throughout our childhood on telling them every time a visitor was coming. To be clear on how unnecessary this was, if you smile and wave, or just say you’re going to the pool or ski lodge, they let you through.
•   She is the first to volunteer for her church, her community, or any random cause that comes hither. Sometimes to switch it up she donates. Or does both, and then also “recruit” her kids into it. Every time I call her she’s either canning soup, making candy, or setting up for a fundraising event. If other people aren’t hitting the quotas on candy production, she complains once, feels bad about it, and then makes more.
•  She feels compelled to follow all directions. This includes assembly directions in a box, directions when traveling, as well as signs saying “stay off the grass.” If she is with someone who ignores these directions (like my father) she has a special face of disdain and superiority, indicating that this will end in misery and it will not be her fault since she wanted to follow them (you’d know the face if you saw it).

Whereas I have never considered myself a goody two-shoe because my moral code is all over the place. I don’t want to give examples because that would provide concrete evidence against me, but trust me, there’s some deviousness sitting pretty in my corner.

So you can imagine my surprise when a few weeks ago, I realized that I too might be a goody two-shoes. This was mainly due to NaNoWriMo. If you don’t remember this from previous years, it stands for National Novel Writing Month. I am yet again attempting a novel (which is why there won’t be a surplus of posts from me for awhile). I had a whole month of debate though on whether or not to do it, because the thing is that I have like 5 days where I won’t be able to write because I’m visiting my family. This gives me a condensed writing schedule. While it’s doable, because my friend Erin did it last year, I had doubts.

I was discussing it with my mother, my perfect, goody two-shoes mother, and she suggested I CHEAT by starting A WEEK EARLY. I spazzed. Was I turning into more of a goody two-shoes? Was she now the devious one? What was happening?

After giving it much consideration, I have decided I am NOT a goody two-shoes. You’re relieved, I know. There are a few random rules I follow and stick to, but it’s not consistent, and it probably goes more along with my general insanity and slight OCD tendencies and whatnot. It doesn’t really come from a desire to “do good.”

However, I also have to say that if I was becoming more like my mother, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. We need those goody two-shoes people to make up for those of us that are running amuck and causing havoc.  

The Resting Nice Face Struggle

I’m sure everyone is aware of Resting Bitch Face. There are constantly memes and articles about it out there in the world (I specifically see this on Buzzfeed, as I’m a Buzzfeed addict). Yet what about its counter-part? Resting Nice Face? I don’t think this life ruiner has really been as fleshed out (face… flesh… GET MY WIT DAMNIT!). As someone who has suffered from Resting Nice Face their entire life, I want to call out ways in which it utterly destroys your world. There are many, many examples, but it all comes down to three main issues.

1. People Talk To You

Yesterday I was running errands with a friend, and we had to wait in line for about ten minutes. Nobody talked to us. Well, eventually one of the employees did, but none of the other customers tried to. Ten entire minutes, surrounded by strangers, and nobody was asking where I bought my clothes or making suggestions for my hair or telling me their life story. I secretly reveled in the experience and thought maybe I had hit some sort of turning point in my RNF where people no longer felt the need to talk to me constantly.

Sadly later that day, I went to Target by myself. Literally within five minutes of entering the store, some woman was asking about my boots and then went on to explain about how she has chronic foot pain and so can only wear certain types of shoes but my boots look comfy and might be okay for her.

That’s the thing with Resting Nice Face. It doesn’t matter where I go – running errands, public transportation, on an airplane with headphones and a book – people are GOING to talk to me (unless I’m with somebody whose Resting Bitch Face cancels mine out). And you would not believe the shit they say. Life stories, while annoying to hear over and over again from complete strangers I care nothing about, are not the worst of it. When you have RNF people think they can say or ask pretty much anything and you’ll go along with it. We’re the ones getting random suggestions on how to dress/look/act. We’re the ones getting asked for directions or threesomes. We’re the ones privy to the confessions of adulterers, people who hate their kids, and picky eaters. And when you’re an introvert that only has a certain amount of people interaction allotted for the day, this SUCKS.

2. People Trust You

One of the reasons people with RNF hear some pretty interesting tidbits from strangers is that we look trustworthy. If I was a more horrible human being, this would actually be soooo useful. Because that trust thing extends past random admissions from strangers.

When I was a teenager working at a local book store, somebody found an envelope of cash in the store and gave it to me. For safe-keeping? To find the owner? There was literally no information either in or on the envelope. There was quite a bit of money in that envelope. I should also note that the person who found and gave me this envelope was not a regular customer who could follow up on the conclusion of the random money and there was no one else in the store at the time to verify either (in case you’re wondering, it ended with me finding the customer who had dropped it. I know, sometimes I hate my honesty too). WHO TRUSTS A TEENAGER WITH LARGE AMOUNTS OF RANDOM CASH!?! People who fall under the spell of RNF, that’s who.

Need a more recent incident to convince you? I swear to god, while I was traveling frequently, a woman in the airport gave me her baby. I did not know this woman. I had not been talking to this woman, but her baby was staring at me a lot (another side effect of RNF). She had to go throw some stuff out and wash her hands. So she randomly had me hold her baby as she wandered off to do those things. She wandered OUT OF VIEW to do this, while I sat there holding a stranger’s baby. This is a true story, and sadly one of many wherein people have trusted me purely because my face radiates goodness and honesty.  

3. People Take Advantage of You

Of course the flip side of the coin is when people think you’re trustworthy, they also assume you’re trusting. People with Resting Nice Face look like easy marks. That’s the truth of the matter. You may have noticed those people at kiosks stop us every time we walk by. You really think they’re the only ones that try to take advantage of RNFers?

It can be little things. A RNF is more prone to being the table the waitress ignores during a busy rush, the person who gets cut in line, or the coworker that always has the extra projects dumped on them. We’re the ones the mechanics try to convince the car will explode unless we buy these five things. Apparently to many people, Resting Nice Face equates to “I Don’t Say No” face. While this may not be true, and a RNF may be entirely capable of sticking up for themselves, the fact of the matter is we get put in more situations where we have to say no.  Mercy on the poor soul who has Resting Nice Face AND says yes to everything (I think that would be my mother).

People push their luck with RNFs. Strangers start talking to you, and then realize “hey, her face still looks nice! She is totes okay with me continuing to talk. Maybe I should also pat her shoulder. Ooh and smell her hair.” They keep going and going until you finally reach the boundaries of politeness and have to pull out your jazzercise kickboxing moves (or whatever you go-to-get-rid-of-creepers move of choice may be) while the whole time YOUR FACE STILL HAS A PLEASANT EXPRESSION.

The struggle is real my friends. The struggle is real. 

#WritingDate - Watch (A Wedding Gone Wrong)

It's that time of year again - National Writing Date Day! Once again I made a date with my dear friend and wonderful writer Erin to set some time aside and just write, write, write. Erin provided us a few prompts. The first prompt we both did. The prompt was: 
There's a nail salon near you that never seems to have customers. You discover the real purpose of the business.

This one got away from me a bit. I may hide the resulting stories in the corners of my mind until I'm ready to grudgingly acknowledge it, but Erin's version is available here. 

For the second hour we did separate prompts. Erin's was:
You've been on the road driving for almost twenty hours. At 2 am you drive up to a restaurant that's open all night. Describe the experience and the people you see.

Her story is here!

I liked this prompt:
A fight breaks out between a bride and groom in the middle of a wedding. What happened?

And thus, a story (a completely unedited story so bear with me here) was born...
  

Watch

 

The little girl was flawlessly adorable. I couldn’t believe how tidy she looked. I had only been babysitting for a few months, but kids were never that clean. I looked around to try and identify her mother. The girl was standing by herself near the gifts, swirling around her skirts, but I was pretty sure the mother wouldn’t be far off.

Sure enough, a few tables away I saw a woman watching her. The woman was also flawless, which was why I assumed she was the mother. They didn’t really look the same. The little girl was lighter. Lighter hair, lighter skin, and she seemed like one of those genuinely nice children. The mother was dark and glamorous, but she also looked like she’d be perfectly happy ruining your life just for the fun of it. She screamed money though, and I wasn’t exactly making the big bucks right now for the families I babysat for.

It all depended on the little girl. I made my way towards the gifts, pretending to be startled when she almost danced into me. “I didn’t see you there.” I leaned down with a smile. “What are you dancing to?”

She blinked back at me with the prettiest blue eyes I had ever seen. The color seemed familiar, but hers had such dark lashes that they stood out more than usual. I wasn’t sure if she was scared at seeing a stranger, or had been told not to talk to anybody. I continued to smile.

“I’m dancing to the music,” she finally said shyly.

There was no music playing at the moment. My aunt had instructed the musicians to wait until her first dance before playing anything. My mother had argued, saying it was weird for the guests to be eating in silence. The groom, my now uncle, had agreed. Aunt Beth had stayed firm though. She said it was because they were paying the band by the hour, which swayed Dan to her side since it meant less money. Especially after she had bought the wedding dress. That had been a battle right there. But I knew Aunt Beth. It had nothing to do with the money. She wanted the entire night to be her moment, one right after the other. Having no music beforehand would make it even more noticeable when her and Dan emerged soon for their first dance.

“Well, it’s a lovely dance,” I told the girl. She smiled slowly. “May I dance with you?” I was surprised but pleased when she nodded. I wasn’t sure she’d let me.

Copying her, I started twirling my skirts around. Even though I wasn’t in the wedding party, Aunt Beth had insisted on picking out my dress. Hideous wasn’t the right word. Old-fashioned worked if I was being polite. My mother had protested once or twice on my behalf but then gave in, as she always did. Dan had been surprised to find out my mother was the older sibling.

The woman was watching us both dance now. I was staying a few feet away from the little girl. I didn’t want to look like some kind of creep. I suppose I could be talking to my cousins or sitting with my grandparents, but if one more person said something nice about Aunt Beth I was going to scream. She wasn’t nice, she was a controlling bitch, but apparently one wasn’t supposed to say that about their aunts.

The little girl stopped dancing. “There’s no more music,” she told me solemnly.

I nodded. “That happens. Thank you for the dance.” I started to walk away.

“Will you come sit with me?” she asked before I could move. I hesitated. Aunt Beth had been very particular on her table arrangements, but it did look like there was an extra place at their table.

“Of course,” I said with a smile. What the hell.

I followed her back to the table. Apparently I had passed the test, as the little girl was now chattering on and on about her dress and how pretty the wedding was, and did I like the flowers at the table? Her mother gave her an adoring smile as we walked up. “Did you make a friend, sweetie?”

“Yes, mommy!” She gave her a quick kiss then sat down, smoothing out her skirt, before patting the chair next to her. “Here, sit with me.”

First I stopped and smiled at the mother. “Hi, I’m Madison.”

She shoed me over to the seat. “Go ahead and sit down. Ella seems to adore you.”

“She’s a very sweet girl,” I smiled. This was always a good line. Mothers liked their children getting complimented, and Ella was still at that age to like being praised. Babysitting had taught me that both mattered. Even if the kids liked you, if the parents didn’t, you weren’t getting the job.

Before the woman could say anything, the music started playing. I rolled my eyes as Aunt Beth and Dan walked in to applause. She had even arranged a few of our other relatives to toss petals in the air as they walked to the dance floor. I thought I was going to be sick.

I turned away. To my surprise, the woman was also grimacing. Was there someone else out there that recognized Aunt Beth for the catty bitch that she was? Or maybe she didn’t like Dan? I wasn’t sure. I didn’t remember seeing this woman at the ceremony to know where she was sitting.

“How do you know my aunt and uncle?” I whispered as they started the first dance. Ella was dancing in her seat and ignoring us, clearly enjoying watching the couple.

The woman paused. I sensed that she was choosing her words carefully. “I’m a friend of Dan’s. He might have mentioned me before. I’m Stella.”

I hated people that named their kids after themselves, but I didn’t comment on it. I remembered hearing about a Stella. Not from Dan, but from Aunt Beth.

“Oh, yes,” I murmured. Thank god, Ella chose that moment to speak up.

“Can Madison and I go dance, Mommy?” I marveled at how well behaved she was. At that age, I would have been tugging on my mom’s skirt for attention. She would be so much better than some of the devil kids I watched now.

“Not yet, sweetie. Uncle Dan has to finish dancing first before other people are allowed to. That’s how weddings work.” Ella nodded as if that made sense to her. Maybe it did. It didn’t make sense to me, but my mother also said I was bitter about marriage because of her divorce. Of course I was. Now my dad had a new family and I had to start saving money for college, otherwise I knew I wouldn’t be going.

I was eager for the dances to finish so I could get away from the table. Now that I realized who I was sitting with, I was a little less eager for Aunt Beth to see me flaunting her seating arrangements. She hated Stella. She had complained about Stella more than once. She thought that her and Dan were too close, and that Stella always talked down to her.

Soon enough, the dances were done and Ella got her wish to go back to the dance floor. I figured Ella was a safe enough bet. Aunt Beth knew I liked kids, and I had never once heard her say anything about Ella, so I figured she must like her well enough. She pretty much only talked about people to complain about them.

The next hour passed fast enough, faster than I was expecting really. The beautiful thing about playing with Ella was that I got to follow her around on her every whim. She was a typical kid, distracted by something else every few minutes. This meant I got to avoid some of the other random duties Aunt Beth thought the family should help with during the reception, and even better, avoid Aunt Beth.

Stella continued to keep an eye on us but didn’t intervene. I tapped into my reserves of patience so that I could continue to appear as the perfect caregiver.

However I realized before too long that not only was Stella watching us, but Aunt Beth was too. I worried for a moment before realizing she wasn’t watching me so much as Ella. I didn’t have too long to wonder why, when Aunt Beth started making her way towards us. Seemingly in response, so did Stella. Dan was across the room talking to some of his college friends, but when he saw what was going on he started heading in our direction too.

Fuck. I had no idea what was going on, but I wasn’t an idiot. It was something not good. Poor little Ella continued with catching the bubbles I was blowing from the table favors. She didn’t seem to notice everyone coming towards us.

Aunt Beth and Stella got to our corner at the same time. Aunt Beth was staring down Ella. She wouldn’t look away.

“Who’s this you’re watching, Madison?”

Ella looked up. “She’s not watching me. We’re playing.”

Aunt Beth gasped. I blinked, and stopped blowing bubbles. It wasn’t like Ella had said anything shocking.

“What pretty eyes you have,” Aunt Beth hissed. I felt compelled to pull Ella back a little closer to me. I had no idea what was going on, but this was starting to sound like a bad kind of fairy tale.

“That’s my daughter, Ella.” Stella spoke up. I think Aunt Beth knew that though. She didn’t look surprised at all. She also didn’t look away from Ella.

“It’s a little funny, isn’t it?” Aunt Beth asked. I looked to Stella to see if she had any idea what Aunt Beth was talking about. Aunt Beth continued. “Somehow I’ve never seen your daughter. Dan talks about her, but I’ve never met her.”

Stella looked composed as ever. “Somehow Beth, I didn’t get the impression you wanted to have much to do with me, or my daughter.”

Dan walked up to the group, putting his arm around Aunt Beth. “Is everything okay over here ladies?” He looked between the two of them. An idiot could see that Aunt Beth was livid about something. Dan wasn’t an idiot. He wisely deflected, and leaned down instead towards Ella. “Hey baby girl, are you having a good time at the party?”

Ella lit up. She had been starting to hide behind my skirts, but now she reached for Dan. “I got to dance! And have cake!”

Dan laughed and picked her up. I gasped. I finally got it. Now that he was holding her, I realized why Ella looked familiar. “Good, sweetie! I’m glad you’re having fun.”

Somehow I knew that Dan didn’t see it. Aunt Beth did, and I could tell right away she wasn’t going to let this go.

“When were you planning to tell me?” She had turned towards Dan and Ella, hands on her hip, clearly in battle mode. The rest of the room was beginning to murmur. The body language in our corner screamed conflict.

Poor Dan looked clueless. “Tell you what?”

“That you had a CHILD with that WOMAN,” Aunt Beth screeched. I winced and looked towards Stella.

She was smiling! What the fuck?

“I don’t have a child,” Dan protested. “And I tell you everything.”

“So you told her about that time we slept together?” Stella asked coolly. Aunt Beth was turning red. I had no idea why I was still standing near this disaster other than morbid curiosity.

Dan spluttered. “That was six years ago, I didn’t think it mattered.” He turned to Aunt Beth. “It’s not like you’ve told me every single person you slept with.”

“Yes, but I have asked you about her MULTIPLE TIMES. You said you were just friends!”

“We are just friends! We’re better as friends!”

I saw Stella wince at those words, and I knew then that the friends thing was not her idea. Ella was looking frightened. I took a breath and pushed my way in. “I think Ella wants to go play. Come here, Ella.”

Dan looked down to hand her to me, and that’s when he got it. I was afraid he was going to drop her. He went completely pale, and then turned haunted eyes back up to Stella.

Stella choose that moment to take her revenge. She swiftly took Ella from Dan’s arms and pushed her towards me. “Go play, Danielle. Mommy will be over in a minute.”

I grabbed Ella’s hand and started hustling her away, but not before I could hear Aunt Beth hiss, “Danielle?”

“What did you think Ella was short for?” Stella said.

I was pretty sure I would not be seeing Dan at the next family gathering.

You’ll Find Me in Da (Strip) Club

This past week I finally went to my first strip club! My life has previously been bereft of strip clubs. That’s not to say that I haven’t had other strip experiences. I’ve gone to a few male strip shows. I also recently saw Magic Mike XXL and had a very similar experience as my friend Erin where people basically treated the movie like the strippers were actually there. Yet somehow I hadn’t made it to a real strip club. I’ve even been to Las Vegas MANY times, with guy friends, and they’re always like “no I don’t like strip clubs I don’t wanna go wah wah wah.”

I suppose most people don’t find it concerning that they haven’t been to a strip club, but I will readily admit that the more I can’t have something the more I want it. So when I found out last minute that I was now part of a birthday event involving a strip club, I was ECSTATIC.

And unlike many other things in life, the actual experience did NOT disappoint. Not only did I have a pretty epic time, I also learned several important things about going to strip clubs.

Let’s set the scene! This was a birthday event for one of my male friends. The night started at a bar downtown. I had prepared with a mutual female friend. We had gotten some cash, pregamed, and agonized together over what exactly one wears on a super hot night to go to a bar and then strip club. Our final decision was jean skirts and cute shirts. This was a bad decision, and I will explain why later.

Anywho, so we started downtown meeting our guy friend and one of his friends. I realize if we keep saying friend over and over this is going to get confusing, but I am also loathe to name people who may not want to admit they were involved in this madness, so I’m giving everybody code names. Female friend is now FF, bday friend is BDF, and his various friends are X1, X2, and X3.

X1-3 showed up at the bar as we were drinking and waiting for 10:15, when apparently a limo was coming to get us. I had never met any of the X friends before. They were all males, and all apparently familiar with the strip club life. All were quickly told this was going to be my first time. All begged me to get a lap dance, and I said I’d consider it.

At 10:15 our limo showed up, and this was when I started my learning experience. You see, I assumed somebody had rented a limo from some random limo place. You know, like little girls do for their sweet 16 or prom or whatever. No.

Lesson Learned 1:  Apparently, strip clubs have special limos you can get to come pick you up. You can tell it’s a strip club limo as unlike normal ones, there is a giant tv in the limo playing videos of the strip club. X1 kept recognizing people in the video. X1 may be a little overly familiar with that particular strip club.

We got to the strip club, and first thing I noticed was the ATM in the corner. Here FF and I were all concerned about making sure we had a bunch of cash, and they keep an ATM right in the lobby. I bet it charges a lot though, so maybe it’s still a good idea to bring your own cash.

We were quickly ushered to our table area. We apparently had bottle service, so there was a giant bottle of vodka at our table along with several mixers. We were barely there a minute before the swarm of women appeared.

Lesson Learned 2: If nothing else, this confirmed the age-old adage that everyone has different tastes. There was every possible kind of beautiful woman you could imagine, and the six of us had very different opinions on which were the most beautiful. Several times, all I could think of was the moment in Fired Up! when they're looking around at all the hot girls saying "it's like the hot-chick produce aisle! I don't even know where to start. Do we go from tall to short or blond to redhead? Maybe just iPod-shuffle mode."

Oh and the dances! Let’s talk about that. I ended up getting 3 lap dances over the course of the evening. When we first arrived X3 had spent a few minutes explaining some general rules of the club. A dance is determined by when the song ends. A dance is $20. Shortly thereafter FF decided to buy me a dance.

Lesson Learned 3: Strippers will cheat the dance rules. Okay maybe not all of them, but definitely that first dance I got was the worst. It was like 30 seconds, and then she charged both me, and FF, because neither one of us realized the other had paid. CHEATING I TELL YOU!

Dance 2 was shared with X1, and involved much more talent. Also this was when I realized that strippers smell AMAZING. I don’t know how they do that. I should have asked, as some of them were way more talkative than others. I also noted that the clever strippers took off their ridiculously tall shoes to give lap dances. Very smart of them.

I probably would have been quite happy not getting any more dances at that point, but BDF decided to buy me another one, and I figured it’d be rude to say no to the birthday boy.

Lesson Learned 4: Do not wear a skirt to the strip club. My third dancer was my favorite. She was super nice. They had told her it was my first time there. She led me over to the side and to my shock, pushed my legs apart. This was the beginning of some acrobatic feats my mind can barely begin to process. I probably would have enjoyed the experience more had I not been concerned the entire time that I was flashing the rest of the room.

This also brings up one of the things I never quite learned the entire night – what does one do with their hands? Are you or are you not allowed to touch the strippers?? I thought I wasn’t supposed to, but then I’d look around and people were straight up squeezing things I didn’t think we were allowed to squeeze.

Now I will say one drawback of being a girl at the strip club is you get to peek behind the curtain. I wanted to be dazzled by these women, and I was. But then I’d go to the bathroom and there’d be strippers in there clearly messed up and ruining the illusion. I don’t understand why the strippers don’t get their own bathroom. This is another unanswered question I may have my entire life.

Ooh, another question – what is the point of making it rain?? Near the end of the night one guy was just throwing tons of $1 all over the stage as the girl wiggled her butt near him. I understand that if you go up with money they come dance with you. Okay, I get that. Throwing extra money keeps them there longer. But this guy was just continually throwing the money. Like a $1 a second. Surely one can space it out longer? I will tell you now that stripper did nothing extra special for him (that I saw, on the stage. To be fair I have no idea if maybe she went to give him an extra dance later) than she had for anyone else. The sheer amount of money he threw boggles my mind. She couldn’t even pick it all up! They had to give her buckets. BUCKETS.

It seems like for every moment I learned something I just had more unanswered questions, and maybe that’s okay. Maybe one is never supposed to really understand the wonders of the strip club. Maybe it is meant to be a memory clothed in confusion and soaked in alcohol. If nothing else was gained from the night, I am a little more hesitant to ever quit my job and become a stripper. That shit takes skillz.

Clueless - 20 Years, 20 Questions

You may not have realized it yet, but as of today the movie Clueless turns 20 years old. Hello! It’s time to talk about the magic that is Clueless in honor of this epic day.

I don’t remember when I first saw Clueless, but I have watched it many, many times since. It has taught me important things about life such as:

·      There’s nothing wrong with being a control freak (“I felt impotent and out of control. Which I really, really hate. I had to find sanctuary in a place where I could gather my thoughts and regain my strength...”)

·      Pretty much anything in life is negotiable (“Well, some teachers are trying to low-ball me, Daddy. And I know how you say, "Never accept a first offer", so I figure these grades are just a jumping off point to start negotiations.”)

·      It’s okay to wait to sleep with a guy (“You see how picky I am about my shoes and they only go on my feet.”)

Yet as much as I adore this movie, I still have several questions that have never been answered. To celebrate the 20-year anniversary I thought I’d share these questions with you, my darling readers, because maybe someone out there actually has the answers!

Questions I still have about Clueless:

·      What the hell is the dress code for this school? In one of the first scenes there is a girl wearing a full suit to school. A suit! Who does that? Never mind the ridiculous amount of skin everyone shows. Not only tiny skirts, but bare midriffs. This makes me sad that I can’t wear a tiny plaid skirt to work with over the knee stockings and have it be acceptable. Unfair!

·      How did Cher not realize that Elton wanted to jump her bones? No, really. He’s touching her all the time. He kisses her multiple times. I admit, when he asks for Tai’s picture that could throw her off a little but the overall evidence points towards him liking Cher. Now having just said that, I feel ridiculously hypocritical since I’m oblivious myself, but damnit Cher! You’re supposed to know things!

·      What the hell is the dinner protocol at Cher’s house? I cannot follow how it works. Is dinner at a set time? Why do Cher and Josh snack right before dinner? Does one person just realize dinner is ready and then yell at the others? Maybe I’m just confused because dinner in my house could be anytime between the hours of 5 to 11 at night, so having some sort of scheduled dinner seems odd.

·      How bad are these cheerleaders that they accidentally flash people while practicing? Oh what, you never noticed that? Why are they not wearing some sort of cheer shorts? Did Bring It On lie to me that this was a thing?

·      How does Lucy fit in Cher’s clothes? Cher tells Josh that she donates expensive outfits to Lucy, the maid. Lucy is short and squat. Cher is not. Assuming the clothes don’t fit, what does Lucy do with them? Sell them? Give them to somebody?

·      What the hell time of year does this movie start? It can’t be at the end of the semester, because Christian is supposed to spend one semester at each school, and he doesn’t show up until mid-movie. I assumed the grades were for the first quarter, but if you look at the report card when Cher gets her grades updated, the report period it says it’s for is the entire first semester. Yet when Cher and her dad discuss it they say it’s for the same semester and start talking about midterms and what not. WHAT IS HAPPENING? WHY ISN’T CHRISTIAN AT SCHOOL YET?!

·      How did Cher and Dionne end up with food at lunch, without going through line with Tai? Why did Tai have to get their pop? Also is Tai drinking both diet coke and milk? At the same lunch? Aw god that has to be a gross combination.

·      Why does Elton put the picture of Tai in his locker? I understand that this is from Emma, and in Emma he takes a picture that she painted. In Clueless all Cher did was point the camera and take a picture. That doesn’t require skill. I don’t understand. Is this only to create the confusion that maybe Elton does like Tai?

·      Why does Cher let Tai sit in the wrong seat at dinner? If your father always sits there, and you know he scares people, why set up your friend to piss him off immediately? It seems rude.

·      Who shaves their head in the middle of a party? No seriously, who in the middle of a party, at a stranger’s house, uses their razor and shaves their head?

·      Again, WHAT THE HELL TIME OF YEAR IS THIS?! If we assume they are in the second semester based on the report card and discussions above, why are they talking about taking yearbook photos?!? Isn’t that a beginning of the year thing?

·      So when Cher gets her phone stolen, she calls Josh. Why doesn’t she call Dionne? She says it’s because she doesn’t know the number of the party. Ok, that is probably true, but doesn’t she know Dionne’s cell? She knows the number for Josh’s dorm room and he’s had that phone number a half year at most. It’s not like Dionne doesn’t have her cell phone on her. Please, these girls even have their cells at gym class. I’m pretty sure she subconsciously just wanted a reason to call Josh.

·      “If I’m too good for him, how come I’m not with him?” Yes, this is a question they ask in the movie, but nobody ever answers it, and I’m pretty sure we have all continued to ask this at some point in our own lives.

·      How awkward is it that Cher tries to seduce Christian in her debate class, when Elton sits right behind her, and she just turned him down? I know Elton’s a jerk, but I do feel slightly bad for him. He’s stuck sitting behind her and watching her get flowers, and candy, and wear super revealing outfits… poor guy. Did this really never occur to Cher? Is she just ignoring Elton?

·      Why exactly did Tai come to the party when Cher’s out with Christian? Why didn’t Dionne? It seems rude to invite Tai when going with Christian on what Cher thinks is a date. Is that why Tai is in such an odd party outfit? Did Cher make her wear that so she’d could be there on the date but also be a non-threat? And if she notices that Tai is feeling left out, why not have her come over and dance with her and Christian?

·      Also, if this party is Josh’s friends, why are Elton and Amber there? Who the hell invited them? How would they know about the party? They are the only other people from Cher’s school that are there. I assume this is just so the movie can make Tai feel bad about life.

·      What time is Josh’s mom calling the house looking for him? It’s after the party and it seems late at night. She really calls up her ex’s house at like midnight or later to talk to her son? I mean maybe if it was an emergency, but this seems like a casual call. Also, is Josh the only person in this movie that doesn’t have a cell phone? No wait, he does, we saw it earlier.

·      Why does Josh for even a second think that Cher somehow passed the driver’s test? He’s been in the car with her. He knows how she drives. Maybe he thought she’d talk them into it, which is kind of scary.

·      How does Tai know to come to the ASL thing? It doesn’t seem like her and Cher were talking at this point. We haven’t seen her in any scenes since she was “way harsh.” We know she wasn’t talking to Travis anymore. Is she psychic? Did Dionne tell her?

·      How did I never notice before that the wedding at the end is held at Cher’s house? Also, who invites your teacher to have their wedding at your house? That seems incredibly weird, but I guess that’s par for the course for Cher. I wondered why she was a bridesmaid. I mean, in theory they don’t know she hooked them up. It’s probably because they’re using her house. It all makes sense now!

Despite the many questions, Clueless is still one of my go-to movies. I don’t know how one can watch it without feeling better about fashion and life. It also is now a fabulous movie for the “drink whenever something is outdated” game. Happy 20^th, Clueless!

Up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right, B, A. *pause* Boobs.

It’s hard to believe I’m writing my 100^th post for this blog. It’s been just over three years, and tons of random madness, but overall I think we’ve all had a good time.

Since this is the 100^th post, I had quite a struggle over deciding what to write about. I felt like it should be something epic and mind-blowing. Or, since this blog is really a means of forcing myself to write, an update on how my other writing is going (hint, not well). I petitioned my family for ideas. My brother wanted me to do a review of best/worst posts. My mother wanted me to talk about some spoilers from the latest Game of Thrones that she is having trouble accepting. My father suggested the evolutionary aspects of sleep (which I probably will do at some point because let’s be honest, I love talking about sleep).

In the end I decided to go with something very near to my heart.

Boobs.

(Yes, that was a pun. Laugh and move on)

Boobs are often the bane of my existence. Actually, I suppose not boobs, but the bras we need to keep ‘em in check.

Basically, bras are life ruiners.

You first have the struggle of trying to find a bra that fits. It is MUCH trickier than the male mind can even imagine. You have to take two things into consideration: band size and cup size.

Now a common misconception is that cup size is always the same. So if I wear a C, I would wear a C no matter what band size.

FALSE!!

The band size actually changes the cup size. So if you wear a 36 C and move up to a 38, you’re probably now wearing a B. This is called a “sister size.” Basically for every band size you move down you add a cup, and every band size you move up you subtract a cup. In theory, 34 D = 36 C = 38 B = 40 A.

Are you starting to sense the crazy here?

There are a ton of statistics flying around saying that most people are not actually wearing the correct bra size. That’s partially because of the band/cup logic we just discussed that not everyone is familiar with. It’s also partially because of how one determines their size.

If you go to a fancy bra store they will offer you a “fitting,” where using measuring tape and magic they will tell you your true bra size.

Now some people luck out, and have a great fitting and find their true bra right away. For years, I hated fittings with a PASSION because I would go with friends, get a fitting, and it was disastrous. They’d tell me a size that was so far off what I was wearing, all I could do was stare blankly at them. I’d try the bra they suggested. Not really because I believed them, but because I wanted to be a dick and show them they were wrong and stupid. This always led to trying on bras that produced quadriboob. Not a pleasant experience. Discouraged and pissed, I’d refuse to try anything else, because if the magic fitting doesn’t work for finding a size, what does? Random guessing? Luck?

I promise it’s not just me either. I recently read a buzzfeed article where a woman got six different fittings in a day, and while I laughed, I also almost cried from commiserating with her experience.

But recently, I figured out part of why this happens. I have cracked the logic of the bra fittings.

In theory, your bra size can be determined using measure tape. If you measure around your ribs this should determine your band size. So if you measure 34 inches around your ribs, you should wear a 34 band. The cup size is determined by then measuring across your breasts. You want to aim roughly for the nipple region for this measurement. Then, you subtract measurement 1 from measurement 2 to determine your cup. 1 inch of difference = A, 2 inches = B, 3 = C, and so on and so forth.

With such simple logic, how can anyone manage to screw up all the time??  

Two reasons.

First, the reason I often have problems specifically at Victoria’s Secret is because they make the assumption you’re wearing a PUSH UP BRA and thus DON’T FOLLOW THE FORMULA. Their push up bras are actually designed to measure as a cup size or two larger than you really are, so since they assume you’re wearing one, they subtract 2 inches from your second measurement before calculating your bra size. I know this, because the ONLY time I got a correct fitting at VS was when the lady specifically stopped and asked me if I was wearing a push up bra or not.

The second reason, and really the killer here, is that bras ARE NOT CONSISTENTLY SIZED. A 34 D in one line is NOT the same as a 34 D in another. Try taking sizes across stores and you will basically want to give up on wearing a bra forever. So even though you now know some of the secret logic behind bras, IT DOESN’T REALLY HELP MUCH.

Fucking bras.

If you somehow magically find ones that fit well, you then need to be prepared to shell out a decent amount of money to buy them. The bras I’m buying these days cost between $40-80, even on sale.

That’s not by choice. Let me stop to emphasize how much that is not a willing decision. Yes, I prefer pretty bras. I do not buy plain white bras, it’s true. But guess what. There are plenty of cheaper brands that still have pretty options. Guess what else. BITCHES DON’T EVEN MAKE MY SIZE!! I literally cannot buy bras at Target anymore. My size doesn’t exist. It’s not an option, even if I was willing to get something a bit dowdy, which is why I’ve had to resort to Victoria’s Secret.

Yay…. (not)

One would think that since bras are expensive, you should buy less of them, right?

ALSO FALSE.

I mean you could. I’m not going to stop you. But here’s more bra logic – the more you wear bras the more the band stretches and thus STOPS FITTING. You are never supposed to wear the same bra two days in a row because this causes it to stretch even faster. You are supposed to rotate bras, and the more you can add to the rotation the longer you can keep them keeping your girls nice and perky.

I mean seriously, is anyone else going crazy trying to follow all this “logic” that no one tells us and half the time doesn’t even apply? Was the entire bra industry designed to crush our dreams and drive us mad??

Pretty sure it was.

PS. If you didn’t recognize the title for this post, it comes from the excellent horror movie Stay Alive, because let’s be honest, bra shopping is it’s own kind of horror.