The Cake (And Everything Online) Is A Lie

A pretty common saying is “don’t judge a book by its cover,” yet we seem to all forget that particular wisdom tidbit when it comes to the internet. This can range from trusting a Wikipedia entry to believing that chick from high school is really as perfect and happy as she seems to be on Facebook. I’m not going to go all moral-high-ground ranty on you, but rather share a silly example of yet another thing not to always trust online – recipe gifs.

There is a subreddit devoted entirely to these things, and they’re popping up on my newsfeeds more often than not. It just so happened that one for a cherry recipe showed up right after I bought a bunch of cherries. The video, which you can see here, made it look super fast and easy to throw together. Since my boyfriend is a huge fan of cherry pie it seemed like fate. I hurried to the kitchen, eager to begin my gif recipe journey.

I had watched the video a few times, but had also grabbed the written instructions as that’s how I roll. I gathered my ingredients and my baking wine and turned to the first step with glee. Here is where things quickly fell to pieces.

Let’s back up for a second. Ya’ll know I bake. I do. A lot. Despite my tendency to never follow the directions exactly, everything normally turns out delicious. What I do not do though is bake pies or too many fruity desserts. I don’t really have a reason for this. I mean I’m not a huge fruit fan so that could be part of it, or it could be that I prefer time savers like jarred/canned ingredients and everyone always stresses how fruit desserts are better when they’re fresh fruit. I dunno. The point is that I’ve only ever made one or two pies in my life, so I am in no way a pie or fruit expert.

This became very obvious very quickly, as the first thing I needed to do was pit my cherries. The video showed a hack involving a bottle and a chopstick. I had both of these things. I washed and de-stemmed my cherries and got ready to pop out some pits real quick.

I’m not going to say this hack is a lie, because it technically works to get the pit out of the cherry. But the easy and clean way they present it in the video? FALSE!

I screamed a little when the first cherry pit exploded in a gush of juice. It was horrifically reminiscent of a certain Game of Thrones scene involving the Mountain. Yes, the pit was out, but my cherry was also rather deformed instead of the perfect looking one in the video. I thought maybe I was doing it wrong, so I tried a few more. Same result. I googled cherry pit removal tips and found several entries about the fail process I was already trying, and then another one involving a frosting tip. After several large gulps to harden my resolve, I switched to that method.

Eventually the cherry pits were removed. Almost all my cherries were basically torn in half, and my kitchen looked like a murder scene. There was cherry juice on the counter, on my wine bottle, and ALL over me as well.

I was a little discouraged that the first step had proven to be more difficult than the video indicated, but I continued on. The rest came together easily enough, and I popped my creation into the oven. I think it was the smell as it finished up that first alerted me that something was off from my expectations. While the recipe was called “pie” it obviously lacked a crust, and the description had called it a cross with a cake. In my mind, this translated as actually being a cake. In my boyfriend’s mind, this translated into being like a cheesecake. The actual end product was neither of these things.

Did it look pretty? Well, yeah. After an hourish of hot, sweaty, and mildly terrifying efforts it was nice to see it turn out looking good. As for the taste… NOT my cup of tea. It was neither cake nor pie but almost more like a flan, which I do not enjoy. I took it into work and thankfully my coworkers liked it so it wasn’t a complete waste.

Moral of the story? Do NOT always believe what you see online!

#TheCakeIsALie #NoReallyItWasThisTime #DontTossWordsLikeCakeOrPieAroundIfItDoesntTasteLikeFreakingCakeOrPie

The Road to Hoarderdom

Every long weekend this year, I’ve planned to do a closet purge. It hasn’t happened yet. I’m not really optimistic about the upcoming weekend either. There are so many better things to do… like read Erin’sNaNoWriMo story, watch Netflix, play LoL with my brother, or get the rest of my stupid swimming miles. Not to mention sleeping in. I love me some sleep time.

Of course the assumption here is that everyone knows what I mean when I say closet purge. Quite simply, it means going through my clothes, which mainly reside in my closet, and getting rid of at least some of them. A good purge also involves reorganizing the remaining items, but I’m never that motivated. The last time I even got rid of something was for a clothing swap in May, which totally doesn’t count since I managed to leave the swap with more clothes than I started.

There are many reasons why one should regularly purge their closet. So far I’ve been very successful at coming up with solutions to avoid it. Don’t believe me? Alright, well here are a few reasons and what I consider perfectly adequate solutions:

Reason 1:  You can no longer close the drawers of your dresser.

Non-Closet-Purge Solution: Move clothes that would typically be in drawers to hangers. When this stops working, use the weird shelves in your closet. If that fails too, stop closing drawers. If you constantly leave certain ones open there’s more room.

Reason 2:  You run out of hangers.

NCP Solution: Omg so easy to handle, it’s laughable. For an instant fix double up certain items. You can almost always fit 2 dresses on a hanger. Buy more hangers the next time you’re at the store.

Reason 3: Nothing fits well.

NCP Solution: Buy more clothes, and then use solutions 1 & 2 to make room for them.

Reason 4: Seriously there’s no room in the dresser or closet.

NCP Solution: Don’t wash all your clothes at once. Always have some dirty so they can chill in the hamper. The next time you travel, leave some clothes in the suitcase. Start using other areas of the bedroom (desk, chair, bags from shopping) to store clothes. You can also buy plastic drawers to hold items like socks or camis.

So why closet purge when you have all these great solutions available to you??

Because apparently you’re drifting towards the “hoarder” line. One of my friends delicately mentioned at some point that I have hoarding tendencies when it comes to clothes. I thought she was joking. I’m starting to suspect she was not. For giggles, I decided to look up common signs of a hoarder. While I feel many have no relevance to me whatsoever, there were some that hit a little close to home. I texted said friend Jenn about it, and based on her comments decided maybe it would be a good idea to at least do a quick inventory of certain items.

At quick count, I currently own:

10 pairs of jeans (not counting the black ones)

47 pairs of socks

50 pairs of underwear

And 32 dresses

Those are the only items that are really grouped together, so that’s all the counting I’m willing to do. And when I say quick count, I mean counting the ones on hangers/in drawers. I wasn’t motivated enough to go through the hamper, suitcases, or bins of stored clothing in my closet. Or the stack of clothes on top of the bins in my closet. Almost forgot that existed.

Those are normal numbers, right? I mean sure I could go an entire month wearing only dresses alone and never need  to do laundry, but the thing is those are appropriate for different occasions, so I wouldn’t really do that.

The thing is, I hate getting rid of clothes. It’s impractical. So what if some of those jeans don’t fit? That means they don’t fit RIGHT NOW. It’s entirely possible that at any point I could gain/lose weight and then they’d fit again. Styles and opinions change all the time, so that shirt I don’t like today might be my new favorite next year. A dress is ripped entirely down one side? One of these days I might be motivated enough to take it to get fixed. It’ll happen.  Ok yes, it’s been a year since I ripped it, but motivation can come at any point!

This is why when I briefly kept a spreadsheet of what I wore on client visits I had trouble organizing it. There were too many options to make it easy to navigate. I completely understand Cher’s need for a computer program to track her clothes. Is it cheating if I try to get one of those instead of actually doing a closet purge? Nah.

F*** the Beholder, You Are Beautiful

All of the recent press around Fifty Shades of Grey has been reminding me of one (of many) of the reasons I hate both that book and the whole Twilight series. Beyond the crappy writing and lack of personality for the main character, both books share this really annoying habit where the female lead has men falling at her feet but continually thinks herself unattractive. This drives me more insane than even the “Inner Goddess” crap (I mean really, your response to something is that your Inner Goddess gets in a lotus position? If such a thing existed, my Inner Goddess would be more along the lines of Inner Sakura. She’d alternatively want to beat the crap out of people and jump their bones. Maybe eat some chocolate too).

To me, this comes across as a really horrible manifestation of the pervading habit of girls to say/think they’re not as pretty as they are.

Let’s start with a common example. Go back quite a few years in your memory, and think of the movie Mean Girls.  Sure, it seems funny when Regina traps Cady into admitting she’s pretty and acting like it’s a horrible thing. I’m not going to lie, I laughed. The problem is that behind that funny scene is a truth. Women are judged for admitting they are attractive. Even if a woman is stunningly beautiful, she is immediately condemned in our minds. Saying you’re “hot” or “beautiful” is tantamount to having a huge ego. Thus women have learned to downplay how they talk about their attractiveness.

I was playing around on imdb.com the other day, and I found this quote from one of my favorite actresses, Gemma Arterton: “In comparison to many actresses I think I’m really average – when I got the Bond film Quantum of Solace there was this big hoo-ha about me not being hot enough, I have to say I agree – I don’t think I’m in that realm.”

BEAUTIFUL, DAMNIT

Personally, I find Gemma stunningly beautiful, but even she feels the need to negatively compare herself to others. This is a common response from women – maybe I’m hot/pretty/beautiful, but not as hot/pretty/beautiful as someone else.

There are two issues at work here. One, again, is the culture that women shouldn’t admit they’re crazy attractive. If you don’t believe me yet that this is a thing, I have more examples for you. We laud the girl that “doesn’t know she’s beautiful.” Not only are there songs about it (here’s looking at you, One Direction), there are movies, cartoons, and of course books. The whole idea of a book like Fifty Shades of Grey making the main character not know her own beauty worth is that then, as readers, we can “relate.” Because of course if you’re a girl, you don’t know you’re attractive, and that makes you hotter.

WTF WORLD!?

The bigger problem is the second issue in play – insecurity. A lot of times the reason women won’t celebrate their attractiveness is because they genuinely don’t believe it. They are falling into the trap of comparing themselves to others, and they don’t like the comparison. You’ll find people are much more willing to own up to being “pretty” than “beautiful,” because pretty is less threatening. And if you have even a hint of insecurity (which you probably do), saying you’re “beautiful” opens up the floodgates for criticism. Which WILL happen. We have tons of articles about all our beautiful celebrities, and then minutes later we’ll condemn them for bad makeup, poor clothing choice, or messed up hair. So for girls that don’t think they measure up to that level, how are they supposed to feel confident enough to declare their beauty?

I’m not saying that everyone falls into the traditional “beauty” standards. I’m also not saying they should. The whole issue with beauty is that it’s a question of perception. What I find attractive is not the same thing you find attractive, EVEN WHEN COMPARING TRADITIONALLY ATTRACTIVE EXAMPLES. Get past the idea that you should be thin, blond, big-eyed, and pouty-lipped.

What I am saying, is that women shouldn’t be afraid to celebrate their own beauty. I know it’s hard. Trust me, I know. Some people suggest things like picking favorite features and feeling confident in those. That’s not a bad idea, depending on how you go about it.

When I was younger I decided I really liked my lips because everyone told me that plump lips are good, and if nothing else you can absolutely say my lips are plump. In a world where beauty is subjective, that seemed like the easiest, concrete reason to like a feature. Then one day I was hanging out with a then ex-boyfriend in the middle of the night, and we randomly got on the topic of my good features, and to my shock my lips were not one of them, because, as he told me, “they’re not that great.” That was a huge blow to the confidence scale for awhile. Since I had picked this feature because of other people’s opinion, suddenly having a bad opinion threw me for a loop. If people didn’t like the features I thought they should like, how could I be confident about any of them?

So trust me when I say I know the struggle. It feels like it should be better to underestimate your beauty than to overestimate it, and have people disagree.

But that’s stupid. You need to remember first of all that your beauty does NOT determine your worth as a person. And second, since beauty is subjective STOP trying to live up to someone’s standards. Figure out what you like about how you look, and for the love of all that’s holy, BE CONFIDENT IN IT.

I think books like Fifty Shades of Grey and Twilight teach us to not believe in our own beauty. They tell girls to base their confidence solely on what some guy (Edward, Christian) says about it, when they should be teaching them to celebrate their beauty no matter what.  I’d rather teach girls to be confident in who they are, and yes, their physical appearance is part of that. You should know you’re beautiful in some way, but you should also know it’s only one part of what makes you, you. Beauty should never be your everything, but you also shouldn’t downplay what you like about yourself just because of other people’s opinions.  

For the record, I like my lips again. Not because I think I should like them, but because they’re soft, expressive, and I love that I can wear almost any lip color and still work it. I’d like them more if they wouldn’t turn blue so easily, but that’s another matter. And maybe there are people that think “they’re not that great,” but I don’t see how that changes the things I like about them. Maybe they’ll never be as plump as Angelina Jolie’s lips, but I don’t see why I should care about her. In fact, I don’t see why I need to even give you reasons for why I like them or anything else about myself. I don’t justify liking my car, or my excessive love of Taco Bell, so why need to justify what I like about my appearance?

 

I want you to know what things about yourself you find beautiful and rock it with the same confidence and faith as anything else you truly believe. It might not feel easy, but the more you can declare to yourself “I’m hot/pretty/drop dead gorgeous/beautiful” (feel free to use your preferred descriptive) the more confident you’ll feel saying it, and that is its own kind of beauty.

Soccer Saves

In case you didn’t realize from all the Tim Howard memes (not that I’m complaining, I kinda want him to father my children), soccer is finally starting to be more of a “thing.” I am, of course, specifically talking about here in America. We’re a little late to the soccer bandwagon. Of course the majority of us are going to jump back off the wagon, wait four more years, and then climb back on. It’s a bit ridiculous.

Personally, I like soccer. I wish it was more popular here. I’m not saying I don’t like football, because you know I do, but I hate how much people hate on soccer. We used to go to professional soccer games when I was a kid, and I can honestly tell you I enjoyed them more than any time I’ve been talked into watching baseball, hockey, tennis, or golf. And I’m not even talking about watching on tv, but going to an event.

But I’m not here to trash your favorite sport; I’m here to talk about soccer. Back in the day I used to play a little. I don’t really remember why I started playing. With ballet, for example, I specifically remember dying to be a ballerina. Trumpet was an attempt to escape piano lessons since my parents insisted on being musical. But soccer? No idea. It might have been a decision by my parents to give my brother and me some social skills since we were homeschooled at that point. It might have been us asking to play. It doesn’t really matter; the end result was I LOVED IT.

We used to play all year round in various leagues. Winter was the worst simply because it sucked playing indoors, but I’d bet my poor parents appreciated the respite from sitting in the heat all day long. I’m pretty sure at some point I even did some soccer camp thing that involved practicing for literally hours every day for weeks, and I loved that too.

Maybe I needed different glasses...

Still, there were a few things I didn’t like about soccer. I never was very good at hitting the ball with my head. Generally, when I tried, I managed to knock off my glasses. Try being in the middle of a game and having a Velma moment – it sucks. Once I even managed to knock myself out. No brain damage (says me), but I distinctly remember waking up and trying to figure out why I was on the ground and what was happening. I stopped trying to head bunt it for awhile after that.

Another thing that sucked – they generally made us rotate positions. This did nothing but piss me off. Especially when they made me play goalie. The entire reason I like soccer is that my hand-eye coordination is crap. So yeah, let’s put me in the goal to catch/block balls flying at my face. Brilliant. Luckily this didn’t happen too often (lucky both for my team, and for my stress levels), but one of my coaches was very insistent on me playing forward somewhat regularly. This made absolutely no sense to me. I liked playing defense. Why make me play offense when you know I hate it (and trust me, I made sure everyone knew my feelings on the matter)??

One of my biggest life regrets is that I stopped playing soccer. I’ve mentioned before that quitting is one of my worst habits. Soccer is a little odd in that I actually rather support the reasoning behind why I quit. It stopped being fun, and I think you should do what you enjoy. But it wasn’t because of the game itself, but because of people’s reactions to it.

He was adorable, but crazy

If you think I’m crazy, talk to my brother about soccer. It’s getting to almost 20 years since we played, and he will still go on a rant about that championship game they lost because “the refs were bribed.” Seriously, he was a little 8 or 9 year old running around SCREAMING because he was convinced the refs were working for the other team. The sad thing is there were a LOT of people like that. Not my parents, thankfully, but other parents on the team, parents from the other teams, even the other players would all go bat-shit crazy about things. I didn’t like it. While I personally wasn’t getting yelled at too much, I started playing in constant fear that if I did make mistakes, someone would flip out about it.

My coworkers and I were comparing soccer stories as we watched the USA match, and one of the nicest guys there told us about one of his last games as a kid when the other team’s families kept yelling to “take out that little fat boy!” (him being the fact boy). That’s awful, and that’s not even the worst example I could come up with. We can pretend words don’t hurt all we want, but they do, and when you’re a child they shape your perception of yourself. Is it so surprising that he quit that year?

So I understand why I quit, but on the other hand I really wish that I had stuck it out for two main reasons.

1. People are jerks. While it’s appalling that we treat our children this way and I am in no way excusing the behavior, we have to learn to expect it. By continuing to quit activities when they turned stressful and had too many expectations, I merely learned to avoid stress and negativity, not how to actually deal with it. This is why I had no good stress busting habits until in my 20s. 

2. I like how I felt when I played soccer. In a word, I felt empowered. You may not believe this (no one ever does), but I was a defensive TANK. I once managed to even knock my coach down when he tried to get past me. Clearly, it didn’t happen. I was a very aggressive player on defense. I was confident on the field at an age where I otherwise felt awkward and ridiculous. I miss that feeling.

And that is the main moral to this otherwise rambling post. When I think about quitting soccer, I still understand my reasons, but I am ashamed that I let people take away my joy without at least trying to work through it. Don’t give up on what really makes you happy. But don’t expect it to always be easy either. Sometimes we need some growing pain to actually, you know, grow.

I Just Wanna Dance

I love to dance. For serious. It’s one of my favorite things in the world.

A little over three weeks ago I hurt my knee. I generally don’t care too much (one can always drink more to ignore the pain) except that I haven’t been able to jazzercise, and since at times I can barely walk I also haven’t really been dancing. It’s feeling a little better today so I’ve been groovin’ around the apartment. Of course that probably means it’ll be worse tomorrow, but that is literally a problem for another day!

Now just because I love to dance, one should not assume I am a “good” dancer, or that I like any kind of dancing. If you said you loved music, would I assume that means you love every genre there is? I mean maybe you do, but you know what happens when you assume.

My brother is actually a pretty decent dancer. He was impressing my friend Kate with his moves last weekend. I was super happy they played Gangnam Style because he loves it and rocks the hell out of that song.

My own love of dancing started young. There are some home videos of my parents playing Paula Abdul songs and me prancing about the living room at like 3 or 4 years old (my brother is also there shaking his diaper butt around a little. It’s pretty funny). I spent half my young years begging my parents to let me take ballet, and finally my friends and I were enrolled at a studio.

None of us were particularly good at that point. I kept with it for a few more years though, dreaming of someday becoming a famous ballerina like my teacher. My dad built me a barre so I could do my stretches and exercises at home. I made gradual progress, as evidenced by my yearly role in the Nutcracker. I started with super small things like the angels behind the Sugar Plum Fairy, a party guest, to mouse, and eventually I was one of the dolls at the party that dances around after it’s wound up. The doll was my favorite. Plus, I was an adorable doll. No, really!

That's me!

However that year my instructor determined I was ready to move to toe shoes and start taking classes basically every day with the more serious students, and I promptly quit. This is actually one of my worst traits; I do tend to quit when things get too hard (this also happened with piano, trumpet, soccer, cheerleading, and god knows what else). After that I took a year of jazz, and then stopped dancing altogether. 

I was ecstatic in middle school when they started holding school dances. My main motivation to move up to high school was the fact that they had dances more often. Everyone else worried about who they were going with and what they were going to wear. I could care less. Honestly I preferred going by myself so I didn’t have to deal with someone the entire evening. Same thing when I turned 21: I was more excited about going to bars to dance than I was about the ability to drink legally. You know that Dane Cook spiel about women going to bars and dancing around their shoes in a circle going “I just wanna dance!” Yeah, that’s totally me.

Now some people have taken this to mean I would enjoy things like going to salsa or swing dancing. Since you don’t know until you try, I have gone to salsa once or twice, and I hate it. Basically it comes down to the problem that I don’t really like dancing with people, and I especially hate dances where someone else is in charge and directing me around. One of my friends claims this is an example of my “control issues,” but I’m not even going to designate that nonsense with a response. I don’t particularly like grinding for the same reasons (not to mention that basically it’s a random person attacking me with their crotch for an extended amount of time, but to music. I don’t see how that makes it better).

My typical Saturday morning

What do I like? I like dancing at bars, weddings, around my house in my underwear, or hell, anywhere that has music playing. I’ll dance in the middle of the store. I’ll dance about in the living room at a house party while everyone stares at me like I’m a lunatic. You know that knee injury I mentioned? Well, this time around it was from jazzercise, but the initial injury was actually back in November, dancing like a madwoman at the office party!

I can’t say I dance particularly well. I dance what I feel, and it’s not super awesome or snazzy. Half the time I feel like I’m really dancing to the wrong beat, or at least not the same beat everyone else is moving to. I mainly dance with my hips, and there have been implications in the past (and outright statements) that I dance like a stripper, but I don’t really see it.

But the best thing is, I don’t even care. You know that quote to “dance like nobody’s watching?” That’s what I do. I dance pretty much the same when I’m in my apartment baking as when I’m out at the bar. If someone offered to teach me to “dance well” I’d probably ignore them, because I have fun the way I dance and it doesn’t matter to me how it appears to other people. I don’t want to think about it, I just want to do it.

This is probably why I love dancing so much.  With everything else in life I am constantly worrying about what other people think and if they’re judging me. When it comes to dancing, I’m honestly have a “to hell with it” attitude, and that’s amazing. Now if only I could apply that to other areas of my life, I’d be set!

A Neek and Misfit's Guide to Dating

So you may or may not already be aware that my friend Erin was my inspiration to start writing a blog. I look to Erin as a mentor as well as being a kickass friend, so I have been very touched by her support as I developed my writing. I will say right here and now that if it wasn’t for Erin I would never have attempted, let alone made it through, my NaNoWriMo adventure in November.

We like to discuss our ideas for posts together, and since we are the same person (on some levels) there are a lot of times when we have some overlap. Additionally, both Erin and I may be mildly obsessed with Buzzfeed. We discovered this post (which you should read first) from Buzzfeed Community member Doriean Stevenson back in February. Old timey dating advice is hysterical but also mildly disturbing, so we thought maybe we should add our take to the discussion to keep it fresh. Thus was born our first joint post!

Part one of the post appeared on the Island and part two is here below. Yes, you should read part one before part two if you haven't already. Think of it as a cross-country conversation (since we sadly don’t live in the same state anymore) between Erin and I during happy hour. Apparently we were both hitting the wine as we worked on this, which is basically the same thing and half the reason why it’s so awesome. #hemingwaywasadrunk 

My comments below are in black, and Erin's responses are in blue. This is the reverse of part one. Why? We like to keep people on their toes.

#8
The main problem I have with this is the alleged link between jokes at dinner and sarcasm. I demand data to support this conclusion. Does this mean if I joke at other points of the day I won’t become sarcastic? What about joking during breakfast? It must have something to do with the type of food you’re eating while joking, which is why breakfast is safe. So basically I’ve taken this to mean that joking is still acceptable as long as you have breakfast for dinner. Done.

Waffles are pretty funny. And so are pancakes when people make pancake faces using bananas and bacon. Of course, breakfast for dinner is the best meal I can think of and now I want to make pancakes. I also have to wonder if we’re allowed to make jokes at other times of the day. What if we’re no longer at dinner and I make a joke on the way to the car? Is car walking sarcasm acceptable? If so, then I will cultivate this as new marketable skill.
#9
Now this might just be me, but there are very few people I can stand to see more than three evenings during the week on a consistent basis. I need a lot of me time. If there was a guy that I could put up with that much I suppose I might as well get engaged to them.
Of course these days, “visiting a lady” probably also entails spending the night, at which point, as per Sheldon Cooper’s definition of dating, you’re technically living together. See definition below:
“A girlfriend shall be deemed quote living with un-quote Leonard when she has stayed over for A, ten consecutive nights or B, more than nine nights in a three week period or C: all the weekends of a given month plus three weeknights.”

I can’t disagree with Sheldon Cooper. Like you, I also need me time because I’m an introvert and I need time to recharge before I deal with people again. My apartment is too small for a guy to be around that much so until I find a larger place where we could both have our space, I’m okay with this one.
#10
I actually agree with the idea of this one, but I think it needs tweaking. I would suggest that you never accept a proposal from someone under the following circumstances:
They just had a near-death experience
They’re drunk
They’re under the influence of mind altering drugs (whether they be recreational or medical makes no difference)
Their nemesis just got engaged
That being said, I would note that both my father and brother somewhat proposed while drunk, and while this ended up working out for my father, it didn’t end well for my brother.

I’m so glad that you mentioned having a nemesis! You should never do anything if a person’s (or your) nemesis just did the same thing. This will never end well. I would also like to add the following items to our list of circumstances in which you should never accept a proposal:

They just had lunch with their mother.
Their sibling just got married, had a baby, or bought a home. Or all three.
They’ve spent the last several hours on whichever social media site they prefer seeing all the things that all the people are doing that they’re not.
They often begin sentences with “I liked (insert subject) before liking them was cool.”
They just attended a high school or college reunion.
They just returned from their best friend’s bachelor/bachelorette party in Las Vegas.
They just got a new phone and have not mastered the autocorrect settings.
They are a werewolf.

#11
For serious. This is pretty much unavoidable, but using my life theory as determined by The Sims you can help cut down on some of the unpleasantness. Oh what, you’ve never heard of my Sims Life Theory? No worries.
If you’ve never played The Sims before, the main thing to know is that people have several bars, including a “social” bar, that affect their overall happiness. To keep the social bar full the Sim must engage in social interaction they enjoy. This generally means it is with a person they like, or it’s something they’ve demonstrated liking before. For example, some Sims like a lot of jokes in their conversation. Some get pissy about people that joke too much (they’re probably afraid of that link with sarcasm mentioned above). The important thing is that every Sim needs a different level of interaction to get their bar full, and then the bar decays at different rates.
What this boils down to is that it’s important to know how much interaction your partner likes. If their bar gets full quickly and you keep on joking around when they want to focus on their low food bar or their full bladder bar, it’s not going to end well. This is probably what drives people to cannibalism.

I would probably die in the Sims world. Or become the cannibal in the neighborhood. Does reading quietly at home with the cat while drinking a glass of wine have any value in the Sims world?
\#12
I suck at leaving. Unless I legitimately have something I need to do, I tend to be the person that lingers. This probably ties in with my #FOMO issues. I am convinced that if I leave a party, or leave my friends, something awesome will happen. This fear is more prevalent in our generation than you realize. Besides earning a catchy abbreviation, it has also shown up in popular shows like How I Met Your Mother where the person leaving and missing the awesomeness becomes known as the Blitz. You know what, it probably would behoove me to start leaving things more often. This might be my May project. Or maybe June, because there should be some good stuff going on in May…

One of my favorite movies from the late 80s is Shag. It’s about a group of friends in 1964 South Carolina who take a trip to Myrtle Beach to have one last adventure before they head off to their futures. Annabeth Gish plays Pudge (her real name is Caroline) and Bridget Fonda plays Malaina. Malaina is the authority on boys and as you can guess from the nickname, Pudge is the quiet, awkward one who used to be fat. Anyway, Pudge falls for a boy named Chip and Malaina’s advice to her is to treat him like dirt, walk away, and then give him 10 minutes to apologize (even if he did nothing). That’s how you get your man - you treat them poorly and walk away. Pudge listens to this nonsense then decides Malaina is wrong. She and Chip enter that dance contest and all is righted in the universe. I guess the whole art of leaving idea is to cultivate your mystery because mystery equals allure. And allure is what all the men in the world are interested in. Or something.
#13
I’m not going to lie, I instantly judge people based on their spelling and grammar. I am willing to overlook what I view as “style” choices, like texting/typing ppl instead of people, if they appear sparingly. Pure misspelling though is an instant turnoff. Especially since almost everything this day has spell check! What, are you deliberately misspelling those messages? Do you think that makes you cool?! It doesn’t.  It makes me want to smack you roughly about the head with a dictionary so I can pretend it may be brain damage causing the issue.

I started teaching high school right around the time texting was surpassing instant messaging as the communication choice of teenagers. I spent countless evenings grading writing assignments that included text speak rather than actual words. Between that and the misspellings, the papers were always a sea of red. I could never be this blunt with my students but what was always going through my mind as I graded was, “This makes you look like an idiot.”

There’s a line the song “Friday Night” by The Darkness that sums up my feelings about this:

See the lady I adore
Dancing on the dancing floor
Dancing on a Friday night
God, the way she moves me
To write bad poetry
Dancing on a Friday night
With you.

I don’t care if you write bad poetry about me, just make sure it’s spelled correctly.


#14
Not to bring in some political madness or anything, but how does that account for same-sex relationships? Are they automatically better?
Taking gender out of it, I actually think this ties in with this amazing theory that some of my old coworkers introduced me to (old as in sadly former, not old as in age. If for some reason they end up reading this please do not get mad and come to Texas to injure me) which is called Love Languages. The whole idea is that people communicate their affection based on they would want to feel loved, when you should find out what your partner likes and use that method. Apparently I respond best to people paying attention to me, and doing favors for me. That makes soooooo much sense and explains like half of my lifetime crushes.
I’d definitely suggest checking out this theory. Here’s the website: http://www.5lovelanguages.com/

Are you sure we’re not the same person? I just took the Love Languages quiz and I also like people to pay attention to me through quality time and for them to do things for me. This makes a ton of sense if I look at my life. What I think we’re getting at is that people need to communicate with one another about what they want and don’t want in relationships. It’s not to say that we shouldn’t compromise when needed but it’s important to understand how the person you love or care for deeply responds best or what they need to feel loved and appreciated. One of my friends told me, not too long after the birth of her first child, that the only thing she wanted from her husband was for him to do the dishes. She would change the diapers, get up in the middle of the night, whatever else but she had no energy for the dishes. That was more important to her than any token or kind word he could have said - she needed the gesture. So I guess what we’re both saying is that, yes, each person loves and wants to be loved in their own way. It’s the combination of the two parts that makes it work.


#15
Because I basically live my life off Jennifer Crusie books, I would simplify this to a quote from Faking It:
“Very few people mate for life with the people they fall for at twelve. Doesn't mean it isn't real, doesn't mean it doesn't hurt, doesn't mean it doesn't matter, but basically, we're talking a practice swing in the big game of love.”
Of course if you have a foolproof method for identifying which is a practice swing and which is the big game, then you should tell me. Or alternatively write a book about it and make a million dollars (and then share with me).  

I too love Jennifer Crusie (Jessica introduced me to her) and love this quote so much. I remember the boy I liked at age 12 would not even be on my radar now mostly because he insisted on wearing his collar popped every time he wore a polo shirt. I could also argue that the last guy I dated is not someone I would consider today either and that wasn’t that long ago. We all need our practice swings. I would also say that if anyone thinks fly-fishing is easy, they have never seen the movie A River Runs Through It. However, it’s also possible I was blinded by Craig Sheffer’s attractiveness.

And that's it for us! I hope you enjoyed our expert advice, and keep it in mind as you frolic about this weekend whether you're seeking a mate, currently in a relationship, or partial to sheep. #nojudge