Bitch, I’m Stealing Your Look

CaptureWhen in elementary school, or middle school even, sharing a look with a friend was completely okay and insanely cool. Much like “On Wednesday’s we wear pink,” I would call my best friend up and exclaim, “tomorrow let’s wear white crew neck Gap t-shirts and Gap boot cut jeans!” (Yes … I actually literally did such a thing) And we would walk down the halls thinking we were the bees knees when in real life we were the biggest bunch of clowns that had ever existed.

Even if I saw a fellow classmate, you know one of the “cool” girls, rocking a piece of clothing or a pair of shoes that I coveted, I would have no qualms going out, buying them, and then sitting next to the girl wearing the same thing. I saw nothing wrong with it.

Nowadays, in this place called “adulthood,” that shit don’t fly. If you go out for drinks with a friend and find you are wearing the same thing, it is mortifying. Simply because well A. you look like we are auditioning for Deal or No Deal, and B. all night you will deal with drunk assholes coming up to us slurring being like, “jjjjuuusssguyys twinsssooorr ssssumthhiinn”?

And in the office when you walk in wearing the same thing as a fellow employee, you smile and exclaim “twinsies!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” and maybe take a pic and post it on social, but deep down, you know it sucks and is uber annoying. And not because you think you’re the most original person on the planet by wearing a black maxi on a Monday, but strictly because you are an individual who detests every five seconds hearing, “omg Susie in Accounting is TOTALLY wearing that outfit, too. You guys should take a pic.”

But this weekend I found myself falling back into my elementary school ways. Scrolling through Instagram, I stumbled upon the most perfect pair of heels that ever existed that my friend Sarah had just purchased. Drool dangling from my mouth I commented, “I want to go to where those shoes are.” And like that I had started the “bitch, I’m totally going to steal your look” process, something I hadn’t done since I purchased the same pair of Puma slide-on sneakers as the coolest girl in the 8th grade.

The difference was … I asked. I asked my friend Sarah if it was okay. Yes it is a free country and yes I had every right to purchase said shoes without her blessing, but to me, fashion is sacred. When you buy something as fantastic as these heels were (see above) you do so because you adore them and can’t live without them and find them to be something special. By not asking her if I could steal her look, I felt like I would be destined to strut around in them with some bad ju-ju. You know, falling face first into a puddle, the heel cracking off and spraining my ankle … normal stuff.

When I asked her, which felt like I was proposing marriage, her response was quite refreshing … “I take it as a compliment when people want to steal my look, go for it, girl.” And then I jumped up in mid-air and ran off skipping and kissing said heels. No that didn’t really happen, instead I kept asking “are you sure, are you sure, are you REALLY sure?!” until I was REALLY sure she was going to hit me.

So I bought the shoes. Now we are shoe twinsies … we should take a pic and post it on social (psyche). But no in all seriousness, it is normal to covet another person’s look. I do it all the time. Strangers on the street? Bitch, I steal their look all day errday and never ask. “Excuse me kind lady, may I go to the store and buy those shoes you are wearing, pretty please?” Umm no. But when it comes to friends, co-workers, your dog walker … you ask. Because that is the right thing to do. Otherwise you are tacky, my friend, straight up tacky. Admit that you envy their look and want it so badly you can’t stop drooling. It will make their day AND you’ll get something you desire out of it as well … without any bad ju-ju.


Consciously Uncoupling From Carbs and Vodka

Screen shot 2014-08-25 at 5.31.05 PMWelp, I’m back from vacation. And it was lovely. Truly. I’m refreshed, rejuvenated, creatively stimulated from my brain sitting on a shelf for the past week, and I’m no longer Casper the Friendly Ghost status. I’m more like his fourth cousin second removed, Slightly Toasted Marshmallow. What I’m trying to say is, I no longer look like I have a vitamin D deficiency, ya dig?

But when you look deeper inside my soul, and my veins, you will find something way less pleasant. Way less … healthy. And that is because vacation means carbs … and copious amounts of vodka. Seven days of, “ooh a frozen pizza for breakfast … SURE why not!” “Cocktails on the beach at 11 a.m. that can’t stop won’t stop until I crawl to bed at 1 a.m.? Bring it on!” For seven days. I know, I know … poor me, my life is so terribly, waaah, boo frickity whooo … but talk to my body, who wants to go on strike. It hates me … thoroughly. It wants to cut me.

If you don’t believe the horrific state I’m in right now, let me tell you a little story called I only peed once on an eight hour car ride home. Just once. That is how significantly dehydrated I am. The only hydration I received whilst on vaca was when I switched to vodka and club. Literally, I think I drank 14 bottle of water today and I still feel like my eyes are roaming around the desert with no water in sight seeing mirages of dancing pieces of bread.

So because I can’t keep my eyes open and I’m lethargic, and cranky, and my skin looks like something that roams around the hallways of a middle school, and I feel like I’ve gained straight up 15 pounds … I’ve made a decision. It has been a hard one to make, let me tell you. And slightly disturbing to even contemplate. But carbs, vodka and I … need to consciously uncouple. It’s time. I’ve always wondered why this Atkins character would invent such a torture-some diet that cancels out all carbs. Now I get it. He must have gotten back from a family vacation¬†and felt like a bloated whale and said, “ENOUGH!”¬†

I’m not one for diets. Or working out. Or being active. Or wearing those crazy ass “waist trainers” that Kim Kardashian has been seen using (ps. what in the name of all crazy is that shit about?) I’m just not. To sound like an obnoxious, valley girl for a hot minute (we all get one minute in life to sound like such hideous fools), like :::twirls hair::: shopping is my cardio :::pops gum:::. But when you feel this gross and unhealthy like I do right now, you do drastic things that you would never thought were possible. Like MAYBE just MAYBE not ingesting so many damn carbs.

At the end of the day, ladies, it is about being healthy. Mentally and physically. Pizza at all hours of the day and too many cocktails equals death. Yoga and veggies equals fresh to death. I mean, I hope so. If I don’t start feeling better on top of giving up carbs and vodka, I may or may not shank someone. Just sayin’.

Man, if everything goes according to plan, I will look like a super model just in time for the polar vortex to rear his/her/shis ugly face so I can layer my six pack under inches of wool. Screw that, if I have a six pack, I’m rockin’ a bikini in zero below weather. What what. #Classy


How Long Does It Take You To Get Ready?

audrey-as-holly-in-sleep-mask_with-cat-on-backI remember when I was in high school, I would spend hours planning my outfit for the next day. By the time I was finished it would look like a bomb had hit my closet as I was trying to concoct the “coolest” most “outlandish” outfit possible. I couldn’t even imagine what it would be like waking up not knowing what I was wearing. The horror.

Flash forward :::mumbles::: years later and it’s all about sleep. Nothing is more important to me in the morning than sleep. I don’t care if I have to wear a belted trash bag to work … mama needs her ZzzZzz’s. It takes me a solid 15-25 minutes to get ready in the morning, maybe 30 if I fall asleep whilst taking a straightener to my hair (hey, it has happened … mostly when I’m hung over).

But seriously, to the women that take over an hour to get ready in the morning, what in the name of sweet Jesus are you doing? I’m not shaming your or trying to make you feel bad. Hey, we all have our rituals in the morning. And sometimes those rituals involve massive amounts of sleep, but to each their own. A well rested lady is a lovely lady, that’s what I … always … not … say … :::Shifty eyes:::?

So I’m here to help the ladies who take an extreme amount of time to get ready in the morning. No longer will your significant others toe tap and complain about your beauty regime, because all ladies hate that shit. Dudes will never get it that it takes time to make us look like decent human beings in the morning. I happen to look like a gargoyle when I wake up. So, regardless of how long it takes you to get ready in the morning, you have every right to tell you significant other to shut the fuck up. Oooh you showered and had to put gel in your hair, maybe a little moisturizer? Boo frickity hoo. And if they gasp in horror, tell them Life Sucks In A Strapless Bra told you to say that.

Anywho, back to what I was saying. Follow these steps for a morning that will have you out the door in less than 45 minutes. Your life will be changed. Think of all the time you will have left over for activities, and by activities I mean sleep.

1. Don’t make breakfast. Don’t even turn your coffee pot on. In fact, don’t even go downstairs, that is where temptation lies. Throw a Special K bar in your purse when you’re running out the door, get coffee at work and call it a day.

2. Shower the night before. I’m telling you, it makes a difference. When you wake up, wash your face, put some moisturizer on, and start making yourself not look like a gargoyle.

3. Wash your hair the night before, too. I mean this is the true time suck. If you wash your hair and blow it out, all you will have to do in the morning is touch it up with a flat iron or curling iron. Boom.

4. Get a lucid idea of what you want to wear the evening before. If you’re like me, you have a Clueless-style catalog of your favorite outfits in your mind (or perhaps I’m just a freak, either or). Just make sure the outfit is clean and ready to go, and factor in some time to steam said clothes need-be (although if you can rock this out the evening before, too that would be splendid).

5. Keep your makeup simple, for the love. You aren’t going to da club, you’re going to work. Moisturizer, foundation, concealer, a little mascara, eye liner, blush, fill in your brows … and ta-da. Most likely you won’t look like Kim Kardashian, because she has a team of professionals that surround her at all times … and I’m pretty sure it takes hours to make her look like that. It just isn’t reality. The irony, right?

6. Don’t you dare groom yourself in the morning. Nails, eyebrows, waxing, shaving, plucking, smoothing, extracting, exfoliating all needs to be done the evening before. Otherwise you’re screwed. Have fun getting up at the crack of dawn, kids.

7. Keep your hair simple. If you did all the hard labor the evening before, all you have to do is touch it up, or throw it up, or add a little wave. We aren’t going to prom, we are going to work. Keep your eye on the prize. Why do you think they invented sock buns? I bet it was invented by a broad who hates getting out of bed in the morning, I’ll tell you that much.

8. Keep your accessories organized. If they are a jumbled mess, that is an obvious time suck. I keep my necklaces/bracelets/etc. right next to where I do my makeup so I can be thinking about what I want to wear with said outfit. Grab it. Throw it on. And wah-la, I’m accessorized.

9. Take a good amount of time for your teeth. Seriously. Dental care is important, coming from a person who has had some issues. Brush, gargle, floss, water pick … do your thang with this one, kids.

10. Absolutely no social media. Disconnect. 100%. Take this time to meditate or something as you get ready. No tweeting, updating your status on Facebook (OMG you guys, trying out my new NARS lipstick this morning, what do you think? #PoutyMcPouterson), Snapchatting (is that the next thing the kids are doing?), Instagramming, texting, or taking selfies. For the love of God … no selfies. Truly, no one cares.


Backhanded Compliment … Meet The Back Of My Hand

tina-fey-thumbs-downWe’ve all been there. We look good. We feel good. We want to strut a little. Then all of a sudden you run into “that” friend. The friend that loves nothing more than to investigate what you are wearing, doing, and seeing with a fine tooth comb. That person mine as well be a hurricane that will wipe away and destroy all the goodness you have going on with one simple comment, that goes something like this: “I wish I had the confidence to pull off something so see-through.” Umm … wait what? Are you saying I look good and confident, or are you really telling me my outfit is see-through?

When you receive a compliment, all you should be doing is blushing and saying how flattered you are … and a little taken back by how nice this person is being. Your hand will go to your heart and your face will shift as your are saying “Awww!” and then you will say, “oh my GAWD … THANKS!” You might even give them a little friendly shoulder punch. It will feel like a breath of fresh air. It will feel like spring time with no humidity. It will feel like the first sip of wine after a heinous week. It will make you glow.

Backhanded compliments, on the other hand (no pun intended), deserve to go to the back door. What is the damn point?! Are you THAT insecure that you feel the need to insult me, yet don’t have the balls to follow through so you just sugar-coat it with a little positive adjective to make me feel all warm inside?

You know when you’re given a backhanded compliment when you start to say, “thaaaan…” but stop and say, “wait, what?” instead to yourself. You still say, “thanks” minus the blushing and the feeling of taking that first sip of wine after a shitty week feeling. Because really, you are trying to dissect what the person just said to you and see if it truly was a compliment. Most of the time, if you are scratching your head in confusion … it was a backhanded compliment. I think we should change it to something more delightful like, “YOU JUST GOT BHC-ed!” I’ll come up with some hand motion to go with it shortly. Hey, it’s a work in progress.

Now I get it, you are probably saying, “seriously … what the hell are you talking about. Maybe you should stop being so paranoid and just accept a compliment when it is given and stop being a bitch,” But let me give you a taste of some common BHC’s that you (probably) have encountered. And then I will do the “I told you so dance” … ahem:

“You’re so fortunate that you can go shopping so much when you don’t have family and a mortgage.”

“It’s so refreshing to meet someone who likes simple things.”

“I love that you don’t care what people think!”

“You’re so brave for wearing that.”

Grrr ::shaking fist::: just stop. Everyone stop BHC-ing one another, for the love of sweet Jesus. Didn’t your parents teach you, “when you have nothing nice to say, say nothing at all?” They probably did, except some asshole found a loophole, also known as backhanded compliments and that is how people get around it. Listen, you either like something or you don’t. I don’t think people should shell out compliments unless they are REALLY passionate about something. Like if I see a girl walking down the street in shoes I would sell my mother for, I would say, “hey …random girl … those shoes RULE!” And then she would think I was hitting on her … and probably run away, but come on, you know what I’m saying!

So I challenge you all to give a REAL compliment today. Don’t bring someone else down just because you are feeling shitty and jealous … just do it. It will feel good. If it doesn’t … well, there is always wine.



Real Talk: One Stall Bathroom Etiquette

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This weekend, I found myself in a crowded, trendy bar/restaurant with a full bladder and a dire need for a cocktail. I know … I know … you are wondering, “dude, seriously? Where are you going with this story.” But trust me … it’s going somewhere, I promise.

I truly don’t understand the restaurants that put their bathrooms in a place that require people to have to stand around tables of other people eating until it is their turn to relieve themselves. “Sorry I swear I’m not hovering … just waiting for the bathroom, but wow those enchiladas look delish!” Annoying, right? Well anyways, this where I found myself. So let me explain the bathroom situation (I won’t blow up said restaurants spot since, well, their food and cocktails are to DIE for). There is one room for the ladies and one room for the gents. Meaning you walk in and lock the door behind you, leaving a line forming outside. So the woman in front of me, who was rather fancy looking, left her friends, who looked like they were ready to peace out of the joint, and entered the bathroom.

Now … who knows what the hell was going on. And I’m not going to make any guesses because, well, that is just rude, and I’m a lady … but this woman took FOR-EV-ER. Like obnoxiously long. To the point where there was like five people standing behind me waiting … yes, that long. To the point where I was getting nervous that the door wasn’t really locked and I was just waiting outside causing a line for nothing (I’ve totally done this before) even though I saw the broad go inside. And to the point where the five girls behind me started chatting with one another, including myself, which is THE WORST. I hate “girling out” whilst waiting to pee. Am I the only one?

So you know when you are looking for a parking space at the mall and see a person get into their car in a SICK spot, so you put on your blinker and wait for them to back out, but they take their sweet time? My Nana used to say, “oooh look, she’s putting on her makeup and combing her hair.” Again … I don’t want to make any assumptions because this woman could have been sick for all I know, but I just had this feeling that something like this was going down. And that enraged me even more.

FINALLY … she opens the bathroom door, looking more glamorous than ever in her little white sundress … and makeup bag … YES … makeup bag, in hand. I resisted temptation to trip her. Not only was I going to pee my pants, but I had a freshly poured margarita waiting for me at the bar. She flipped her hair and frolicked over to her friends, kissed her boyfriend with her freshly glossed lips, and went on her way. My newly found best friend waiting behind me looked and said “it’s about time … and I right?!” I smiled politely and went on my way into the bathroom.

I was in and out. Peed, washed my hands, checked out my hair, all in under a minute, or at least I thought so. It was impressive enough for my new line BFF to say, “girl you are QUICK!” Want to know why I was quick like a bunny? Because I was aware that my newly found best girlfraaaands were waiting. And they are human beings who probably have lonesome margaritas waiting for them as well and don’t want to spend their moments out on the town hovering around strangers eating glorious meals waiting to pee.

What I’m saying, ladies, if you are in a restaurant with a one stall bathroom … maybe don’t feel the need to apply another layer of makeup, flat iron your hair, and file your nails. It’s just not cool. Unless you are having some personal problems, which again, I don’t want to discuss because that would be weird … and gross … you have no reason for taking more than 2 minutes. None. That’s why Jesus invented compact mirrors that fit nicely in your handbag. It’s a-okay to powder your nose at the table. Why? Because I said so. If there is more than one stall, powder your face in the bathroom, girl. Do it up. Hell, paint your nails. But when you know people are waiting, be kind. Be conscious. Because then you leave people like me out in the wild with a bunch of talkative girls who I don’t know, thirsty and about to pee my pants.