Wisdom

No, You Can’t Bring Your Life Size LeBron James Poster Into The Apartment.

My boyfriend and I recently decided to take the step towards cohabitation.

You know, living together. Under the same roof. Sharing a bathroom. Letting him have access to my Netflix queue. And mostly, trying not to fight about whose turn it was to eat the leftover burrito from Chipotle.

So with great decisions, comes great responsibility: like figuring out what will and will not make the journey from our separate living quarters into the one we will share.

All the sudden, I’m having flashbacks to kindergarten, my teacher preaching from the pulpit sermons of compromise and open communication.  I’m begrudgingly trying to set aside my dreams of having my apartment look like a floor model from Home Goods, slowly realizing that this step is something that needs to be taken together, bringing in elements and pieces from our pasts in order to build our future.

But that doesn’t mean there is going to be putting a nine-foot tall cardboard cut-out of LeBron James in my entryway. Not on my watch.

And in an effort to not totally deter all men from moving in with women because they won’t allow sports trinkets to sneak into their boxes, I’ve realized there’s a list of things girls probably should avoid if they want to make this transition a happy, healthy, and lasting one.

When living with your significant other, keep these things in mind:

The bathroom is a sacred place and he’s going to be in there a lot.  While girls tend to get a bad reputation for taking too long to get ready, boys have a tendency to spend the better part of a year in the bathroom with no consequences attached.

Make sure your bathroom is neat, organized, and promotes healthy cleaning habits.  With that being said, it’s probably a good idea not to have the main bathroom decoration be a collection of tampons of varying shapes and sizes.

Along the same lines, having a calendar is a good way to keep track of when you and your significant other will be in and out of the city.  You can each have a color marker and a corresponding color-coded key.  You’ll have so much fun adding all the different appointments you both have throughout the month if you have OCD, like me, or are just a twenty-five year old who still appreciates coloring.

This calendar, however, would not be an ideal place to mark when your Time of the Month is taking place with big, red X’s along with a corresponding color-coded key that says they mean you probably won’t have sex that week.

Decorating is the shit. I mean, girls practically pee their pants at the thought of bringing in new patterns, textures and colors to their living rooms. Moving into a place with your boyfriend pretty much signifies you’ve almost entered adulthood, so you’ll want your new place to look sophisticated as hell.

Decorative pillows are a fun way to infuse color into a room without going overboard.  These decorative pillows should not be in the form of stuffed animals that were given to you by ex-boyfriends on past Valentine’s Days.

Chandeliers are classy.  But chandeliers solely consisting of old Beyonce cds and candles you used for that seance at a sleepover when you were seventeen are not a way to signify you’re a high class broad.

Physically living with your boyfriend means you don’t have to have pictures of you and him together littering your apartment.  This does not mean you should have pictures of your exes around your apartment in frames labeled “Memories” and “Good Times.”

Coffee tables are a great place to establish yourself as a cultured, well-read human being.  Avoid having Cosmopolitan be the only magazine allowed in the apartment.

Above all, respect each other. That’s like important, I think.

Do you have any tips for moving in with a significant other?

Here’s Some Helpful Advice: Suck It Up.

endurance

i love the dictionary.

They always say if you don’t go through bad things you won’t appreciate the good.

They say you need to go through trials and tribulations to appreciate where you are now compared to where you’ve been.

They say you need to push through, that it’s just a rough patch, and that if you keep going, they say you’ll make it out alive.

And whoever they are, they’re right.  We just tend to forget, or maybe ignore, all that advice when we’re going through those rough patches, when we’re in the midst of trials and tribulations, and when the bad is blocking out all the good in our lives.

We live in a world that feeds off of instant gratification.  Text messages don’t get prompt responses, relationships fail to be defined, and job offers don’t come.  But we texted first, we want to be with that person, and we applied to that job an hour ago.  Why haven’t we heard back?

Our parents, and their parents all struggled.  Yes, our generation has technology, and the ease and accessibility of it has made communication that much stronger, faster, and immediate.  But we, as millennials, fail to accept that regardless of that access, we all still must struggle and endure the worst parts of life, in order to come out stronger, to persevere, and appreciate what we’ve built, just like our parents.

The reality of the world is that things aren’t going to be handed to you, and if they are, you’re extremely lucky and shouldn’t take it for granted.

The internet has made overnight success a seemingly attainable and tangible idea, when in reality, most kids coming out of college will not be on the influential 25 under 25 lists, and they’ll have to work for money just like 98% of the population.

Hollywood has made romantic relationships and the idea of perfection achievable.  And while you should still never compromise on someone with whom you’re going to spend the rest of your life, the harsh truth is that things don’t work out like the movies, and you’re going to have one or multiple failed relationships in order to realize what you want, need, and deserve in a partner.

You’re going to have to start from scratch, try and create something out of your life with a multitude of wrong ingredients before you finally realize there isn’t a recipe to success, it’s all just trial and error until you get it right.

But that’s why it’s called endurance.

You need to have that shitty job when you’re first starting out to know that you’ll constantly strive for bigger and better. There are going to be horrible things that happen to you along the way, people are going to get promoted over you, you may get laid off, you may be stuck in a position for a long time with no room for growth.

But you have to endure it.

You need to have a series of imperfect connections for you to know when a good one comes along. Sparks will fly and fade multiple times until you find one that just keeps burning.  You’ll figure out what you thought you needed when you were sixteen may not translate to your desires for twenty-five.  Or maybe you’ll realize you shouldn’t have let that one get away when you decided you wanted to grow up separately rather than together.

But you’d never know these things if you didn’t endure them.

There’s a reason why life is considered a marathon rather than a sprint.  If we all rushed to where we were going, we’d be dead in nine minutes.  But the beauty of time is that we have it and the reality is we should not waste it.  We need to understand that life isn’t all rainbows and butterflies and there are going to be shitty times where you want to give up, run away, or break down.

But you should just endure it.

Because at the end of that seemingly endless, pitch-black tunnel, there will be a light. And everything you’ve worked for, gone through, and endured will be worth it.

You’ll find the person you want to spend the rest of your life with and cherish the connection you have from the start. You’ll nurture that relationship and use the lessons from your past to make yourself and your partner better.

You’ll get your dream job (eventually), and realize that all the skills you acquired through that crappy customer service gig or the connections you made through that string of temp jobs will ultimately help you in the long run, even if it seemed like remedial work at the time.

Because endurance is the reason people wait all winter for spring.  It’s the reason we lived in that horrible roommate situation to be able to save up enough money to move out and into a better place.  It’s the reason we hate our lives now, but will love and appreciate our future.

So just remember to endure it.

I Wanted A Pony, I Got A Lecture.

Watch out. Marlborough Man. There's a new chick in town.

Watch out. Marlborough Man. There’s a new chick in town.

Every year for my birthday I prayed that I would get a horse.  Instead, I got my cousin’s old sweaters and a lecture from my mother on being grateful for the things I already had.

A hand-me-down, by definition, is something that has been passed on from another person.  Most likely, you’ll refer to that old coat with holes in it that never kept you warm in the winter, or the pair of socks that went through three siblings before they made their way to your feet.

They are the sweaters your brother always wore that made him look so cool, or the high heels in your mother’s closet that your six-year-old feet prayed every night they would one day fit inside.

They are the items that the previous owner took care of enough to live a second or third life.  Like the house that’s been in your family for generations, or that weird glass duck your mom keeps on the mantle, and no one really knows where it came from.  But it has value.  So it’s passed down, kept, and maintained.

In an effort to avoid being completely literal, I want to talk about the hand-me-downs in our lives that are way less tangible, yet far more meaningful.

These are the attributes that have shaped you into the person you are today. It’s the ideals, beliefs, and quirks we learned from people in our lives that had an impact far greater than a birthday gift.  A hand-me-down isn’t just an object, it is something that makes you who you are.

It is your mannerisms; the ways you move, gestures you make.

It’s why you always twirl your hair because your older sister did it when she was talking to boys.  It’s the nervous ticks you inherited from your mother because she hates public speaking.  The way you always talk with your hands because your family always had to show rather than tell you what they were talking about.

It is your perception of color, and the way it can positively or negatively affect your life.

It’s the inheritance of racism, sexism, and the idea of inequality from previous generations.  Views that your parents, grandparents, and relatives had that were unfortunately passed down to you.  Or you might carry the legacy of acceptance, open mindness, and visions of equality.  Your mind is a sponge, and you know that skin color is no grounds for inferiority, and people are people, all of whom we can learn from.

It is your voice, and the way it carries you through life.

You’ll never be able to count how many times you’ve been asked why you don’t say your R’s, or how you got your lisp.  You’ll never be able to explain why you learned to say “draw” instead of “droor,” or “theeter” rather than “thee-a-ter.”  It’s because you were taught to hold your tongue and wait for others to speak, or why it’s your innate desire to blurt out your thoughts without thinking of the repercussions.

It is the lesson you learn from the past.

Whether it be a day, a week, a month, or years, there are people in our lives that have an impact.  It’s because of that time you fell in love too quickly, and from then on, refused to show all your cards from the start.  It’s the friends who made you laugh, realizing you need those more than ones who will bring you down.  It’s that man on the street who greets you every day, letting you know that the littlest bit goes the longest way.

It is your genetic make up.

Or the reason why you dealt with curly hair through puberty when all the pretty girls had straight. It’s why your thighs are thicker and your waist is smaller.  It’s why your face is longer and your nose is pointy, and the reason you can’t digest dairy or are prone to alcoholism.  It’s all the things that make up who you are, and remind you where you came from.

That weird glass duck will always be sitting on your mantle, and no one really knows where it came from.  But as human beings, we are all walking examples of what has been handed down to us.  We represent an amalgam of experiences, cultures, perceptions, and memories, all of which affect how we act on a day to day basis, for both the good and the bad.

And we will all eventually pass those things down.  Just remember that the next time you don’t say hi to that stranger on the street, or talk down to someone without thinking of the effect it will have, or go for the guy you think you can change when you’ve never been able to change one of them.

What hand me downs to you have?

I’m On The Wrong Side of Twenty-Five

Chevvvvvvvs.

Chevvvvvvvs.

So, um.  Vacation is real, and it’s fucking awesome.  It also hurts like hell when it’s over.

But sound the alarms, hide all the children, bake every cake, cause I’m back and I’m chock full of noggin goodies and ready to write em down.

Mentally, I feel great. Physically, I’m a little worse for wear.  As you get older, you really start to recognize how many things you just can’t do anymore.  Along with wearing overalls and cheetah print scrunchies, I found out over the course of my week long hiatus that I can’t quite hang like a college kid and bounce back like I used to when I wasn’t twenty-five.

I woke up this morning and my eyes essentially refused to open, and walking in to work looking like you just toked up with Willie Nelson and Snoop Dogg is never a good look.  #apologies

What I’ve learned this week is that I’m on the wrong side of twenty-five.  

And that really, really sucks.  Cause being on the right side is always more fun, I think.  Depending on how you look at fun, I guess.  Criminals and the like would probably disagree with me.  But then again, they’re in jail and I’m not… yet.

I may be young and able-bodied, but I am in no way, shape, or form, capable of doing beer olympics and not spending the entire following day curled  up in a ball watching reruns of CSI while having someone spoonfeed me macaroni and cheese covered in velveeta.

Listen to your bodies.  When you wake up on Sunday and you feel like crap, going outside and sitting in the sun without drinking water is not going to make you feel any better on Monday.  In fact, it will make you feel worse.

Exercise is always good.  Even when it’s not good, you’ll feel better after you’re done.  Or at least that’s what my mother tells me.  I always say the same thing about naps and chocolate.

If you have a good buzz going, cleaning your kitchen and/or entire house will be way more productive in the moment.  You will cover a lot of ground in a short amount of time.  Drunk minutes always seem to double regular minutes, but you may also wake up wondering why you slept in bed with a swiffer wet jet and why your dog is wearing rubber cleaning gloves.

Never forget to eat.  At twenty-five, this seems like it should be natural.  It’s not.  Sometimes you spend all day shooting the shit and catching up with old friends and wake up the next morning realizing your body survived a day of treacherous drinking on one egg and 8 pieces of cold bacon.  Set alarms, bring a buddy, or grow the hell up and remember to nourish yourself.

Strapless bathing suits are the devil.

Keep in touch with old friends.  Especially if you experienced something life changing together.  Friends like that don’t come into your life often, so cherish them.  Make a point to see them, keep in touch, and reunite as much as you can.  You’ll want to remember the time one of you passed out in a strange place and how many different locations you traveled to in order to reunite. (shameless plug)

And last but not least, it was confirmed that Ray Rice is a giant pile of douche bags.

What did you learn this week?

http://dailypost.files.wordpress.com/2014/08/downtown.jpg?w=700&h=

What You Don’t Realize About Moving To The City

http://dailypost.files.wordpress.com/2014/08/downtown.jpg?w=700&h=Loneliness is an interesting feeling.

Upon graduation, or if you were one of those not-college types, whenever you had the means to do so, there comes a time in everyone’s life where we are expected to spread our poor, little, struggling wings, fly the coop and become devoid of our parent’s protection, guidance, and monetary support.

But that’s totally okay, because we’re moving into the city.

The city, whichever one you choose to call your home, is the true American dream.  Getting out of your hometown is just the tip of the iceberg.  Success in the city you choose is the fulcrum of happiness and the epitome of making it out alive.

So you do your research.

You find the city that has the hippest music scene, the best deals on brunch, those hole-in-the-wall dive bars where everyone becomes a local.  You find that city, and it becomes your dream.  It becomes your destination.

Because moving there is so much better than living at home.  There’s so much to do, there’s so many new faces to meet, and jobs to attain.  But what they, whoever they are, don’t tell you, is that it doesn’t matter how many tall buildings, restaurants, bars, and people there are in that city.

Because you’re going to be lonely.

And you’re going to struggle.

And you’re going to feel what it’s like to be on your own.

And you’re going to realize that feeling alone never crossed your mind or factored into your equation.

Because loneliness is an interesting feeling.  Especially when you don’t plan for it to happen.

We live in a world where we are constantly connected.  Cell phones, applications, social media, and, if you absolutely have to, verbally.

And even though we have all the means to communicate, it still doesn’t shake the feeling of being completely and utterly helpless.  Because at the end of the day, we are on our own, in a new place, and it’s bound to happen.

The thing about being lonely, is it’s actually a good thing.  When you move to a new place, regardless if you know people, but especially if you don’t, you get to truly find what you want for yourself.

You may move to a new city with dreams of becoming a teacher, and end up in the very field your father advised you never to pursue.  Or realize that living with roommates is more trouble than it’s worth, and paying the extra money each month is better for your sanity than the few extra bucks you’ll spend going out to avoid them anyways.

We do ridiculous things to avoid boredom.  The same goes for being lonely.

Because loneliness is an interesting feeling.  You’ll find ways to combat it.

Maybe you suddenly get the urge to take up cooking, join a yoga studio, or train for a half marathon.  You’ll meet people along the way, find a few friends here and there.  Start building up a core group of people with whom you enjoy spending time.

Once you’ve moved away from home, the place where you were forced to spend time with people because you lived in the same place, you get to start over, you have the ability to find the people with the same interests, values, and goals.

You are not confined to a certain group of friends because you’re not popular, or don’t play sports.

Real Talk: No one is popular in the city. And if you think you are, you must be a celebrity or have a very inflated sense of self, and I’m going with the latter, because no one knows who anyone is unless you’re in an immediate circle of friends.

Loneliness is an interesting feeling.  So get comfortable with it.

At the end of the day, you’re making strides to better yourself.  You’re moving out, moving on, and moving into a new city.  Get comfortable with being the person that has to make hard decisions, and take heart that if they go wrong you can only blame yourself.

Get to know yourself, figure out what you want, where you want to go, and who you want surrounding you while you get there.

But most importantly, know that you’re not the only one who is lonely.

We’ve all felt alone in a city with tall buildings, millions of people, and tons of activities.

It’s part of growing up, and that takes time.  No one just uproots their life and has roses, butterflies, and rainbows greeting them when they walk in the door to their new apartment.

Most of us move and are greeted with rainy days, a mattress on the floor and a bank statement with a less than desirable account balance.

Because loneliness is an interesting feeling, but I promise you’ll get through it.

Today In Things That Are Almost True: Rick Ross Is A Vision of Positivity

Contrary to popular belief, we could all learn a thing from Rick Ross.

rick-ross

HEY — IDGAF

There’s a lot of talk about who is too fat or too skinny these days.  And personally, I don’t think we’re doing enough as a society to reward to the high profile pioneers who have middle fingers up and just don’t give a fuuuuuuuu**k.

Instead of shaming people for trying to squeeze into something that doesn’t fit, or critiquing men and women alike for their figures, we should be embracing the few people on this earth who promote and exude a confidence that we should all aspire to obtain.

In short, the body shame tunnel has a light at the end of it, and that light is hip hop swag master, Rick Ross.

Rick Ross is on a ruthless quest involving not giving a shit what anybody thinks.  It’s clearly evident because he’s just strutting his stuff all over music videos, and he’s doing it shirtless.  Just completely avoiding social norms but choosing to express himself through music sans shirt.

Whether or not Mr. Ross is choosing to spit jams without a shirt is just a larger (pun intended) ploy to get all of us humans to forget that he is, in fact, not really a good rapper at all, is still up for debate.  But the sentiment is there, and it’s reverberating throughout lunch buffets and potluck dinners around the world.

Aside from the fact that his talent in the hip hop community is measured at less than mediocre, he does express, whether he knows it or not, a very worthy cause: positive body image.

He loves himself, all of himself.  He is happy in his skin.  He’s confident.  He’s accepted this is the suit he will live in for the rest of his life, and for better or worse, he’s going to live life to the fullest.  And frankly, he’s doing something right.  This guy is fat, happy, and a goddamn millionaire.  Meanwhile, I’m over here slaving away at a 9-5 job while I count how many cucumbers are in my salad in order to fit into a bathing suit.

If all of us gave the same little amount of fucks Rick Ross gives about how he looks without a shirt on, the world would be a better place.

If all of us just accepted our bodies, our flaws, and shortcomings, people would be less inclined to point out the negatives in others and appreciate the positives in their own skin.

Instead of thinking about how many calories you need to cut, or how many imaginary allergies you need to develop, or how many times you have to get a salad when you’re out to dinner instead of just getting the cheeseburger like your heart wants, we should be thinking about Rick Ross, shirtless, in a giant house surrounded by fat stacks of money and the occasional siberian tiger.

maxresdefault

#Acceptance

We salute you, Rick Ross.  We salute your commitment to maintaining a positive body image in a time where the media, faceless strangers behind a computer screen, and even real humans who have the audacity to criticize someone else’s body say things that make other people cower in fear.

Keep your shirt off, your head high, and send me a check for like a hundred grand for the promotional work I did on my own volition by writing this blog.

We should all strive to be a little nicer to one another.  We should all encourage each other and validate the good rather than overemphasize the bad.  Because positivity, self-love, and acceptance are three things that many people never attain in their lifetime.  And that, my friends, is tragic.

We all, as human beings, need to start recognizing that people are just that: people; with emotions, ideas, and energy.  We are not JUST our bodies, nor should we be allowed to think that we are defined by them.

I promise you will much rather be remembered as the person who helped people out of a funk, guided them through a depression, and built them up when they felt down than the person who criticized someone who was already weak, kicked someone when they were already down, and scarred someone beyond repair.

Love yourself, love one another, and the world may just turn its frown upside down.

What do you think about body image?  Do we have the power to change the way people perceive one another?

GUEST POST: Racing Bananas Takes Over Half and Half!

Well, we are in for a special treat!  No pun intended, but kind of intended because I love snacks and she does too and that’s why I asked her to do this for me.

I like to eat, and figured everyone else does too, or else we’d all be dead, and then no one would be able to read my blogs (THE HORROR!) and my spanish teacher from tenth grade would be right in her assumption that I am not good at anything.

Anyways, enough about Senora Biatch, and more about food.  Hopefully you enjoy a little break from my nonsensical rambles, and enjoy something a little healthier for your mind and body.

Hi All! My name is Kim and I blog over at Racing Bananas, where I talk about my journey to live a healthy and active lifestyle. I stumbled upon Meg’s blog about a month ago and love it! Her posts are hilarious and witty and definitely keep me coming back wanting more! Today, Meg is letting me hijack her blog today to share with you some of my favorite go to snacks.

Kim Apple

My healthy living journey began during the Summer 2011 – I had reached my highest weight and was battling depression and self-image issues. With my dad and brother, I decided to change my eating habits and began exercising. I started doing the Atkins Diet, but soon realized that it was not sustainable for me. So paired with going to the gym and eating more healthy and in moderation, I have lost and maintained a 40 pounds over three years. It’s something that I am extremely proud of and strive to maintain. This can be pretty difficult, because I love chocolate. And ice cream. And pizza and cheeseburgers and French fries, and…well basically if it’s not good for you, I want it in my belly!

One way that I’m able to curb my “eat all the things!” mindset is by planning ahead. I’m a big snacker and need to eat every couple of hours (or I get hangry and scare my co-workers), so I usually make sure I stock the fridge and pantry with lots of healthy options that I can grab and eat during the day.

Some of my favorite combinations are:

Plain Greek Yogurt w/roasted pumpkin seeds or granola. I used to be a flavored Greek yogurt junkie until I saw how much sugar was in a container (as much as in a candy bar! Given the choice, I’ll take my sugar in chocolate form). It took a bit of getting used to, but I now really enjoy plain Greek yogurt and like to add in toasted pumpkin seeds or granola for a morning snack.

yogurt

Red Peppers and Hummus. I’m not the biggest proponent of eating raw veggies, mostly because I think they’re bland. Except for red peppers, which I love because they are tangy and red. They taste great with hummus too!

Tuna Salad in a lettuce wrap or whole wheat pita. I only recently decided I liked tuna, and now I make my own tuna salad at home by mixing canned tuna with laughing cow wedges. It’s tasty! I wrap this in a leaf of romaine lettuce and love to chow down.

tuna salad

Rice Cakes with peanut butter. I know rice cakes have a bad rap – they are literally the most boring food around. But I started slathering them with a tablespoon of peanut butter (and sometimes cinnamon and a cut up banana) and they are quite tasty. And filling!

Mashed Avocado on Toast. I love avocado everything. My go to is to half an avocado and mash it in a bowl and season with paprika and garlic powder and then put on toast. Try it. You’ll love it!

Smoothie. If I have smoothies, it’s usually in the morning because I work in an office and think my co-workers would think I was nuts if I started blending things in the middle of the day. But smoothies are a great post-work out (or anytime) snack that you can fill with fruits, protein, and fiber!

smoothie

With a bit of planning, you can have tasty snacks all day and not having to default to sugar filled granola bars (which I love #guiltypleasure) but couldn’t fill me up if they tried!

Thanks again to Meg for letting me take over today! Now I want to hear from you! What is your favorite go-to snack?

 

The Spice Girls Are The Reason I’m Weird

Well, no, they’re not.  But they did tell me to spice up my life.  And I’ll be damned if I don’t listen to Scary Spice, because she is actually terrifying.

This morning when I was trying to justify drinking wine instead of beer at a baseball game, I was met with inquisitive looks and confused stares.  America’s past time apparently has no room for deviations from stereotypical sports drinks.

But, I knew I was different back when I was twelve and my friends all started wearing makeup and watching what they ate.  I was more interested in sleeping in and eating snacks.

Self-confidence is hard to come by growing up.  No one likes knowing they are less than normal.  But as years passed, I realized I’m weird as hell and just went with it.  Apparently, people find quirks endearing in your twenties.

Because variety is the spice of life.  

Being mismatched, weird, quirky, eccentric, or unconventional is far more exciting than being plain, common, or regular.

Nobody wakes up and strives to be basic.  Success isn’t success when it can be attained by the ordinary.  In today’s world, we need to embrace differences and enhance the distinctions between us so that we can stand out.

We should all aim to add variety to our life.

Do shit you’ve never tried. Walk a different way to work.  Move on a whim.  Ignore your bank account and see what happens when you keep swiping your debit card.

Drink wine at a baseball game and throw shifty eyeballs and middle fingers at anyone who seems to care.

Because who the fuck is busy caring? You’re at a goddamn baseball game.

Be the variety in someone else’s life. 

When all life has to offer is a 9-5 job, be that person who can brighten up a day.  That phone call that will change a mood, flip a frown, or create a smile.

Aspire to be that person that people call because they know you’ll lighten the mood.  Because you’ll alleviate the pressure of real life, and make it all worth it.

Embrace the ways you’re able to make a first impression.

You will never get anywhere being plain. Be weird, stand out, make an impression.

The boy at the party won’t remember that girl who talked about the the weather for twenty four minutes.  He’s going to remember the one who talked about that distinct scar on your face, even if you did lie about getting into a knife fight with a rabid racoon.

Because normal is just, well, normal. 

Conventional love stories are boring.  We never want to read normal news.  As a culture, we’re obsessed with the weird, the outrageous, the unknown.

Immerse yourself in lifestyles that you don’t know about, extend a hand in friendship to a person you normally wouldn’t.  Being culturally aware is one of the smartest things you can do as a human.

Because we’re all curious, and we just want to know what the other person is all about.  Being inquisitive is not a crime; most times it’s appreciated, and has even been known to stop racism, bigotry, and ethnocentrism.

(WHAT? BUT DOES THAT MEAN I ACTUALLY HAVE TO TALK TO SOMEONE?)

So put some spice into that dish we call life.  A little weird, adventure, a bit of charm, wit, and a dash of embarrassing anecdotes are a good start.  Bring to a boil, and I promise you’ll be bungee jumping in Taipei by December.

Or you could just be normal.

(Note: Recipe for a spicy life should not be taken literally.)

What do you do to add variety to your life?

I Got Lost In The Dating Pool

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Caution: Enter At Your Own Risk

You know, that unfathomable abyss full of unknowns, what are we’s, and should I’s?  That God awful place in life where no one really knows if you’re out to dinner because of a mutual interest or because the end result is a hopeful bang.

Yeah, welcome to the dating pool.  Put on your best swim suit, get in the water, and Marco Polo your ass over to the deep end.  You may find what you’re looking for, or you may just want to hold onto the wall for a while until you know it’s safe to start looking.

First off, you’re going to want to utilize the buddy system.  There is no substitute for an effective wingman in the dating pool .  You’ll need that guy or girl to help when you’re drowning in guilt, self-doubt, and with the all too familiar life question, “should I text him back now or in forty hours?”

Always remember to apply sunscreen, the dating pool is never in a shortage of burned bridges, scorned lovers, and hot love making; all of which need the necessary precautionary protection.

For those who are eager to jump right in to a relationship, feel free to enter at the deep end.  There are diving boards of various heights, all of which are easy identifiers for the type of relationship you’re seeking.  If you want a low maintenance, easy going relationship, try the spring board.  If you’re looking to add a lot of time, effort, and danger, you may want to jump off the high board.

Warning:  High risk does not necessarily equate a high reward at the dating pool.  He or she may just be a psycho.

All other patrons can enter at the various laddered and step intervals found throughout the vicinity.  The shallow end steps boast most of the new relationships.  These are the ones still undefined and unlabeled, the ones still just trying to figure out if this is what they want.

People in the shallow end need not worry about those that are treading water in the deep end.  While some of the swimmers look like they have it all together and their heads above water, beneath the surface may reveal a struggle and they just know how to put on a brave face.

Because in reality, they may just want to get the fuck out of the pool and onto dry land.

Those in the deep end, and maybe in the shallow end, may not be comfortable enough in their own skin, thus, they have garnered the ever so tacky floatation devices.  Ranging from large to small, these devices signify that the person they are outfitting is neither ready, nor willing to fully immerse himself in the relationship.

This person could be wearing floaties due to a failed relationship recently.  He or she could have almost drowned due to suffocation, over-exertion due to putting in too much effort, or because he or she felt they had to babysit their previous significant other and does not want to be pulled down again.

If you see someone using a kickboard or a noodle, they are drunk.  These are crutches that we use in order to make dating more fun.  You may look like a jackass, but god damnit, you’re having fun while doing it.

While in the pool area, you may encounter a bunch of people just laying out on the sides.  These are the people who are not interested in relationships.  They do not want to go into the pool.

This means your advances will be shut down, your invitations will go unanswered, and your money will be wasted on frozen treats at the snack stand with no return on your investment.

It is easy to get lost when you’re in the dating pool.  One minute you think you’re going to sit by the water and tan, the next thing you know you dove straight into the deep end with Marcos from Prague who is visiting for the summer.

I’m not going to say it won’t last, but I am saying maybe you should have taken a floatation device with you, because that shit is going to be ROUGH later on.

There are children allowed at the dating pool.  Just be advised, it is a lot of work trying to handle kids while wearing a bikini.  One wrong move and you have a rogue boob on the loose, and that never looks good on anybody.

Unfortunately, there are no lifeguards at the dating pool.  This is an enter at your own risk environment, and if you get pulled under, there’s no one to save you but yourself.

I Gave All My Friends Breast Implants At My Thirteenth Birthday Party.

You know the saying, “patience is a virtue?”  Well, when I was thirteen there was no capacity left in me to endure my flat chested, baby body, and I decided it was time I got boobs. 

Now, before you all break out your early millenium spiral corded landlines and dial the DCF hotline to file a ten-years-too-late complaint on my mother, just know that any time you put a bunch of thirteen year old girls around things that resemble boobs, they’re all going to jump at the chance to enhance.

Case and point: At my thirteenth birthday party there were water balloons present.  We were all in bathing suits and there was not much going on up top, if you know what I mean. One thing led to another, and all of the sudden there were ten pre-teen girls resembling wet dog versions of Pamela Anderson running around my front yard.

Waterboobloons.

Waterboobloons.

I was thirteen years old, and I couldn’t wait to be sixteen.  To get my license, responsibility, and the sacred freedom from my parents to stay out later than 9pm.

When I was sixteen, I couldn’t wait to be eighteen.  To be legal and able to buy cigarettes and porn, and pretend I knew about politics.  (Aside: I did not buy porn, I wouldn’t even know where to begin in the purchasing process, but the thought seemed scandalous) 

When I was eighteen I couldn’t wait to be twenty-one, to have my first (legal) sip of alcohol, to walk into a liquor store with my real ID and not be scared of getting arrested for poorly impersonating my sorority sister from Virginia.

When I was twenty-one, I couldn’t wait to be twenty-five.  To.. well, nevermind, I didn’t think anything fun happened after twenty-one, but I just wanted to be grown up and out of college.

Looking back, there are so many instances in life where I couldn’t wait for the future.  I had plans, visions, and aspirations for my next milestone.  Sure, it’s exciting to think about the car you want to drive when you get your license, or the way you want to celebrate your twenty-first birthday.  But in reality, we spend so much time wishing for the future, that we never really enjoy the present.

If there is one thing we can take away from childhood photographs, it is to remember to take each day as it is.  If you’re twenty-five waiting for thirty, you’ll miss out on all the opportunities and advantages your twenties have to offer.

Don’t be that thirteen year old girl wishing she was sixteen, then eighteen, then twenty-one. You’ll regret caring so much about your appearance, wasting time, your allowance, and your sanity on clothes that are too expensive and won’t fit in a year.

You’ll eventually get boobs and own as many bras as your little heart desires.  You’ll get that womanly shape you see on television, and you’ll critique it just like you do to the women in the magazines.

Don’t wish for things you don’t have.  I promise you the girl who actually got boobs in fifth grade cursed her mother’s mammary glands until all her friends caught up to her three years later.

Remember that life is a gift.  Cherish it.  Revel in it.

Next thing you know you’re twenty-five and are looking at pictures of yourself when you were thirteen wondering why you took growing up so seriously.

And you also hate your boobs.