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.

37 Signs You May Love Books A Little Too Much

1. You have books stacked in front of books and are still running out of room on your shelves.

2. You are also running out of room on your counter.

3. And your table.

4. You are slightly in love with a fictional character.

5. You have cried over the death of a fictional character.

6. Pretty much all of your #friendshipgoals come from fictional characters.

7.  For that matter, most of your #relationshipgoals do too.

8. You have been known to lose track of time in a bookstore.

9. And in a library.

10.  And in bed when a good book is involved, which has probably resulted in more lost sleep than your entire sexual history so far.

11. You’ve ignored a call once or twice (or more) in order to finish reading the paragraph you’re on.

12. Two hours later, you realize you still haven’t checked nor returned the call because you kept reading.

13. Sometimes, you don’t even hear the call in the first place because you’re just so into the book.

14.  Several of your books have food stains from reading while you eat, because you can’t bear to stop.

15. They also have water stains, from reading in the bathtub.

16. One or two may also have lipstick stains because…. well that one is a long story.

17. You have ended friendships with people who refuse to return borrowed books.

18. You have ended relationships with people that say reading is “a waste of time when you could be out there, living life.”

19. When visiting friends, you have been known to become so intrigued with books you find at their house that you have to borrow them.

20. That’s the best-case scenario. You have also been known to visit a friend, find an interesting book at their house, and start reading then and there.

21. Three hours later you realize it’s three hours later and you’ve been completely ignoring your friend.

22. They may have even gone to sleep at this point. You don’t know until you start searching for them.

23. Amazingly enough they are actually okay with this, because you’ve done it before and they’re awesome enough to be understanding of your book problem.

24. Almost everyone you know has gotten you a book for a present at some point.

25. Or a gift card for a bookstore.

26. All of your good friends know there is at least one book (if not more) that they should never, ever mention unless they want to hear you rant about it for hours.

27. Actually, several of your coworkers know that too.

28.  In fact, so do some of the random people that you see every day on your commute.

29. Your ideal vacation is going to the beach, because then people are cool with you spending most of the day reading.

30. You love rainy days for the same reason.

31. Also winter… basically anything that can be an excuse to stay in with your books.

32. If you didn’t need to get food and more books, you might never leave the house.

33. You legitimately like books clubs.

34. For the book discussion, not for the food and wine.

35. You love jokes about how much people love books.

36. You also started a blog mainly to convince people that reading should be a sport.  

37. And to give you an online forum for all of your book rants.

The Truth About Short Hair

Bye hair!

Some of you may remember that last year I had an internal and then external debate over whether or not to cut my hair short.  In the end I decided to risk it (YOLO!) and go short.

Of course prior to making that decision I did tons of research. I read quite a few blogs and articles about things to know and what the experience would be like. Since I’ve now had short hair for almost a year, and consider myself a fount of knowledge for life in general, I decided the nice thing to do would share my personal revelations on the experience.

Brace yourselves.

Short hair!

I was leaning towards a pro/con list, but have decided on a different approach. We shall go through various life events, compare the long hair to short hair experience, and pick the winner for that category.

Let’s start with the obvious one…

MAINTENANCE

Long Hair Experience – for me, long hair was super easy. I could wash it at night, braid it for bed, and go a few days (assuming I didn’t jazzercise) before I had to wash it again. Bad hair days could be hidden with a ponytail or a twist. I could skip haircuts with no drawbacks except maybe some split ends, which I sometimes fixed myself.

Short Hair Experience - I find maintaining my short hair much more effort. I can skip a haircut but it’s going to do interesting things. If I run out of product I’m screwed. If I buy the wrong product I’m screwed sideways. If I don’t wash it, or at least get it wet every day, I look like an unkempt boy.

WINNER: I think it’s pretty obvious that LHE is the winner here.

COLOR

Short Hair Experience – I almost dyed of shock (dyed… get it?? HAHAHA) when I could get away with one box of hair dye. I don’t have to pay extra at the salon anymore. It doesn’t take hours to wash the dye out. It’s glorious!! Hell, I should dye my hair more. What am I doing this weekend…

Long Hair Experience – egad I don’t even want to get into it! Years of my life are gone trying to get dye through my ridiculously thick hair. YEARS. AND MONEY. SO MUCH MONEY.

Winner: SHE, for realz.

REACTIONS

Long Hair Experience – people loved my hair long. To a somewhat unsettling level. They also seemed to feel like they had a weird right to touch my hair. Strangers would come up and stroke it. True story. It’s weird.

Short Hair Experience – some people love my hair short, but there are also very emphatic others that can’t stop saying “I liked your hair long better.” In fact, people seem to feel like they have a weird right to remark on my hair choice now that it’s short. It’s not uncommon for strangers to helpfully suggest “but you’d be so much prettier if your hair was long,” or “guys would like you better with long hair.” They don’t touch it though, so that’s nice.

Winner: I’m going to call this one a tie.

EXERCISE

Long Hair Experience – fuck the world if you forget a hair tie before working out. Seriously, it’s the worst.

Short Hair Experience – there are some layers near my face that get in my eyes and are obnoxious, but otherwise it’s ridiculously easy to work out and to wash my hair afterwards.

Winner: SHE is the obvious leader here.

DANCING

Short Hair Experience – it is kind of nice to not have a bunch of heavy, sweaty hair on my neck.

Long Hair Experience – however, there’s nothing quite like tossing your hair every which way. I actually miss my long hair the most when I’m dancing.

Winner: LHE, oddly enough.

BED

Long Hair Experience – I actually slept with my hair in a braid at night, because otherwise I woke up tangled in my own hair. While this is a little annoying, on the other hand there is something incredibly sensual about getting ready for bed with long hair. That moment when you take off your clothes and your hair brushes your bare back… amazing.

Short Hair Experience – um, there’s really not much to say. I go to bed. I wake up. My hair is disheveled and not as adorable but it’s not a life ruiner. In fact, it’s quite nice overall.

Winner: SHE, but there are definitely things about the LHE I miss a bit.

“BED” (otherwise known as SEX)

Long Hair Experience – I just said that the mere act of sleeping tangled my hair. Now imagine sex. Imagine trying to unravel those knots the next day (because who goes “time out! I need to do something about my hair!” I mean I have, but it definitely dampens the mood). No really, imagine it. Imagine every time you lean over and there’s a cloud of hair in your face. Imagine trying to cuddle and it getting stuck to another sweaty body. Are you horrified yet?

Short Hair Experience – much, MUCH better than long hair, to say the least.

Winner: Seriously like it could be anything other than SHE.

So if we count them up… long hair has two wins, short hair has four, and we have one tie. This probably explains why I’ve been in no hurry to grow my hair back.

A word to the wise though. If you are talking to me, or really to any person that recently cut their hair short, do not, for the love of anything you hold holy, DO NOT ask me if I’m “ever going to grow my hair long hair again??” I consider this the world’s stupidest question. Assuming I don’t actually die at 30, I have many, many years of life ahead of me. How can I even possibly know what I’ll want to do with my hair five years from now? Ten years from now? Fifteen? You see where I’m going with this, so save us both the trouble and don’t ask stupid questions.

A Lament for the Mocha Cookie Crumble

There are three key things to note before reading this post that will help it make more sense:

1.     I love chocolate

2.     I’m a Taurus and thus resistant to change

3.     I have mad issues about my birthday

Back in 2012 Starbucks revealed one of their new seasonal drinks: the Mocha Cookie Crumble Frappuccino. At the end of the summer the drink was discontinued, to the dismay of many. Chocolate lovers rejoiced when it came back the next year just in time for Frappuccino happy hour!! When the same rigmarole happened for the third time in 2014 I made the silly mistake of assuming that the Mocha Cookie Crumble Frappuccino would always return in early May.

But this year, Starbucks decided to ruin my world and debut a new Frappuccino instead.

To be fair, I haven’t yet tried the new S’mores Frappuccino. Friends have sung its praises but I’ve been slow to convert. I like S’mores, so in theory it should be good, but I suspect it will never replace the Mocha Cookie Crumble in my heart.

Before you write me off as simply being stubborn, let’s talk about the role the Mocha Cookie Crumble has played in my life. This all goes back to my thing about my birthday.

I do not like my birthday. Deep inside of me is a Lily Aldrin wanting to make it a grand holiday to be recognized and respected by all my friends, but the years have convinced me that instead I’m more Penny of Happy Endings, and that my birthday is cursed. I tried celebrating with small groups of friends, I tried vacations, I tried escaping all people I know… it doesn’t really matter what I do. The birthday curse will find a way to ruin the day.

When the Mocha Cookie Crumble appeared in 2012, I had recently moved to a new city and had no one in the area that actually knew it was my birthday. On the eve of, I drank a lot at a book club happy hour, and then woke up feeling not exactly wonderful early in the morning to fly to Houston for work. Work that day involved my least favorite meeting possible. My flight back got delayed because of thunderstorms, so I ended up coming home very late, very tired, and overall done with the day.

But in general I believe in finding the bright side of life, and that day, it was the Mocha Cookie Crumble. I got one the minute I left the airport in Houston, and you know what? It was amazing. It was chocolatey and delicious, and it helped me make it through an otherwise awful meeting.

That was 2012. In 2013, I decided ahead of time to take work off on my birthday so I wasn’t facing the same situation. My birthday that year was a Friday, and it just so happened I was spending that week in the middle of nowhere New Mexico for work. That was possibly one of the worst work trips of my life. I flew in Monday night, got in late since my flight was delayed, again, then drove 2-3 hours to get to where I needed to be. I was feeling worse and worse during the drive, so as soon as I got to my (not very nice) hotel, I went to sleep. I woke up a few hours later and spent the rest of the night horribly ill.

I sucked it up the next day and went to my onsite, feeling weak and dizzy. This was the first of three days of a cranky, obnoxious group of people that complained that I was too pale (I was sick, also I don’t understand why that’s relevant) and my voice sounded bad (again, sick, but this is a large part of why I now have a complex about my voice) and that also blamed me for the fact that the room we were in had no A/C (seriously, how the f*ck was that my fault?!).

Thursday night I drove back to the airport but it was too late for a flight, so I was spending my birthday, my day off, waking up ungodly early to fly back home. All week though, I looked forward to that flight, because I had a layover in Dallas and while there, I got my first Mocha Cookie Crumble of the year and it was AMAZING, as always. The end of the day ended up much better than I expected.

Even last year, despite suffering through the worst of my knee problems at that point and putting up with idiots who think the best way to celebrate your birthday is to be the designated driver (yes guys, I’m still bitter), I had not one but several Mocha Cookie Crumbles that week, and they kept me sane and happy, and also helped me resist the Diet Pepsi temptation a bit longer.

It wasn’t just birthdays either. Every time I had to drive back and forth to Houston for work stuff that killed my spirit, I made sure to at least plan out where exactly on the drive I was getting my Mocha Cookie Crumble. It got me through the random weeks when I wasn’t sleeping. It made the times where I was working two roles with not enough hours in the day bearable.

So when I started stressing out about my birthday and other things even earlier than usual this year, I kept consoling myself that at least the Mocha Cookie Crumble was coming soon. I asked several Starbucks employees when it was officially coming. No one would answer. Well, this week I figured out why when I stopped at Starbucks for iced tea, saw a sign announcing Frappuccino happy hour to start on Friday, and saw NO MENTION of the Mocha Cookie Crumble. Quick internet research proved that the S’mores had replaced it for the year.

I suppose it’s stupid to care so much about something like a particular coffee drink. Sometimes though I need to care about something stupid, so I can downplay the real problems of the moment. I’m not going to lie – after learning there was no Mocha Cookie Crumble this year I spent all week indulging myself with as much Diet Pepsi as I wanted.

But maybe, just maybe, the S’mores Frappuccino is even better. Maybe I’ll try it and it’ll be angels in my mouth. And maybe it won’t, but it won’t matter because something else random will come along and lift my spirits. I like to believe in the possibilities.   

My Dreams Are Trying to Kill Me

…and it’s rude.

Seriously, I am completely sick and tired (pun!) of all the ways in which my dreams cheat and attempt to give me more nightmares. It’s bad enough that I have bad dreams several times during the week. This conspiracy to turn them into nightmares is worse.

Oh, what’s that? You didn’t know there was a difference between a bad dream and a nightmare? You probably don’t even have nightmares, do you? Freaking lucky SOB.

The difference between a bad dream and a nightmare is normally defined by whether or not the dream forces you to wake up. Since I wake up randomly throughout the night regardless it’s a little hard for me to define the difference between what was “natural” and what was in the middle of a REM cycle, so I apply my own definition. If I wake up screaming or crying or with my heart racing and still very afraid, I consider it a nightmare. If I wake up calm, even if bad things were happening in the dream, I just consider it bad.

I don’t particularly like either type of dream because the worst thing is, I have the very unfortunate habit of falling back into the same dream when I go back to sleep. If this happens, it’s also very common for it to go from a bad dream to a nightmare because my dreams F*CKING CHEAT.

If I woke up calm because I had managed to hide from whatever was attempting to kill me, you can guarantee that when I fall back asleep my hiding place is discovered. If I had the situation under control because I had a weapon, it no longer works or changes into something else. I remember one zombie dream that infuriated me later because I had a gun, I had a safe area in sight, but all of the zombies had STEEL PLATES IN THEIR HEAD AND COULDN’T BE SHOT. WTF!?! HOW IS THAT FAIR!?!

Last night I had a total of 5 bad dreams/nightmares. 5. **5**. This is excessive. I even stayed awake from around 3 am to 5 because I absolutely knew I was going to be trapped in the same zombie dream and I didn’t want that to happen. Finally, I fell asleep and had another nightmare about being trapped in my car after it flipped. Woke up panicked, forgot to try and think about non-zombie things to trick my mind, fell back asleep, and sure enough had more zombie issues.

Logically bad dreams shouldn’t be a big deal. Keep in mind though that it is possible to die in your dreams, and I’m one of those “lucky” individuals that dies quite often. I mean sure, that doesn’t really kill me, but neither is it pleasant. And again, I have the habit of continuously falling back into the same dream. So I get to be murdered not once, but sometimes multiple times.

Let’s just say too that I decide to stay awake. This is the obvious answer to win the game when your dreams cheat. Good plan, except I’m also blessed with a constitution that responds to things like not sleeping enough with violent nausea. I know, I know, being me is such a joy.

The good news is I have stumbled upon a possible solution. You see, I’ve finally realized that I have the most nightmares on the nights when I take my contacts out (and that just adds to the bundle of fun, because now I get to wake up screaming and be completely unable to see, yay!!!). Most likely it’s because I have a deep fear that if I’m ever attacked, it will be while I’m somewhat blind and more vulnerable. Years of watching Scooby Doo as a child have warped my brain. I try to leave in my contacts as much as possible to help with this, but I decided a month or two ago that maybe this should be the year I actually get eye surgery.  Then I reconsidered, because I feel like they don’t let you drive yourself home from eye surgery and I hate cabs, but after my doozy of a night I’m leaning towards it once more.

Plus I suppose the bright side of having nightmares more often than not is that it gives me writing fuel. If I wrote happy, sappy, love stories good dreams would probably be more effective, but as it is I like to write things where I need to tap into feelings of terror or hopelessness. Done and done.