This Weekend, I Kicked Adversity Square In The Face.

You know, because adversity has a face, and it’s most definitely square.

Sometimes life hands you lemons, and if you’re me, you grab a glass of wine and make some bangin’ sangria.

But sometimes, life hands you presents neatly wrapped with pretty packaging and bows on top.  You know, like the ones you’re thinking about the entire time your grandmother is talking about pickling olives or how she’s trying a new foot cream.

So innocent.

So innocent.

That’s how I feel when I’m at work and I know there’s a big, fat bottle of wine waiting for me when I get home.

Among other things, like food and water, I think that wine is a necessary part of my diet.  It’s just that one little slice (okay, it’s like two slices, and they’re pretty big) that makes up the pizza of sanity I need while I’m here on earth.

I was minding my own business, ready to indulge in Pinot Noir bliss, when disaster struck.

Using my mustache wine opener, because I’m trendy as hell, I attempted to open the bottle.  Right when I’m about to remove the cork, the mustache part of the corkscrew popped off.

And suddenly, I was left with this obstacle to overcome.

#HELP

#HELP

True to form, I am not one to step away from a challenge.

First I tried using my sheer, brute strength to open the bottle, but my fingers can’t grip tight enough, and frankly, I’m weaker than a newborn baby, so my efforts failed.

I know what you’re thinking, “Hey Meg, why don’t you just give up and not drink the wine tonight?  Maybe have a glass of ice water and go to bed?”

And to that I say, “Shame on you.”  I never leave the scene of a crime.

CHA-CHING.

CHA-CHING.

I struggled with my decision to continue my attempt at opening the Elusive Yellowtail until I realized that I had pliers and a brain.

I took the pliers, and reversed the corkscrew out of the bottle.

Instead of going to bed by 830pm, I was up a little longer.  But what I learned through this entire ordeal, is that if you want something, you may just have to use the toolset your father gave you for Christmas that you bitched about because it was a manly gift and you’re a woman who would prefer to not be lumped into group gifts just because you have three brothers.

So, thank you, Father.  Thank you for that majestic tool set.  I will never complain again.  (Don’t quote me on that.)

Cheers.

 

The Friday Five: My Favorite Posts of the Week

Each week, I list off my favorite posts from all the wonderful blogs I follow.  I mean, if I love you, why shouldn’t the rest of the world?  So, without further adieu, here are the posts that really got my attention this week!

Friday Favorites

Friday Favorites

She Said What?: DEAR TIME, I DO NOT BELIEVE YOU ARE ABSOLUTE

This is a great interpretation of time constraints and how many things we actually don’t get done in a day.

Just A Small Town Girl: The Checklist

Love this post about girls having unattainable expectations for men.  Just go with it!

Truth According To Tom: Tom urges obscure heterosexuals to come out of the closet

The title is self-explanatory.  Sarcasm is amazing.

Crossknit: Edits

Loved this post about how we completely cover ourselves up in order to go to work.  And she talks about resting bitch face, which is a condition that is so near and dear to my face heart.

Mindful Digressions: Analogy abuse

I chose this post solely because I am a grammar nerd, and love a good analogy.  And the fact that these are taken from actual student essays is comical.

Bonus:A Rational Response To This Ridiculous Article On Why Guys Think Girls Are Crazy.

Because bitches are crazy and are trying to run the internet.

Who likes badges?  Everyone, that’s who!  If I featured your post this week, or in any previous weeks, feel free to grab one of these bad boys and slap in on your blog so the world can know you’ve been baked with greatness by yours truly.

xoxo, Meg

thehalfandhalfblog.com

BUTTON SWAG

What was your favorite post (by you or someone else) from this week?  Submit it in a comment and maybe I’ll feature my top five favorites next Friday!

A Rational Response To This Ridiculous Article On Why Guys Think Girls Are Crazy.

snucvtIn the most non-shocking news of the day, men and women are really different.

Women are relational.  Men are reserved.

Women are figurative.  Men are literal.  (Except they literally can’t even sometimes.  They die.)

But despite all the differences and the arguments that may arise from them, there are some things that just don’t make sense when it comes to women.

I admit that we are all a little crazy.  It’s because we have to think about the fact that after we’re married, we’re most likely going to be confined to our home cleaning up other people’s shit for the next thirty years of our lives.

#Feminism

Anyways, my coworker shared this article from Elite Daily entitled The Dictionary Of Everything Girls Do That Guys Label Crazy (Even Though They’re Not), and again, it gives normal women in the world a bad reputation.

What I want to do is clarify this list of crazy things, explain why this girl is not speaking for all women, and give credit to men where credit is due. 

 Editor's Note: Original article's 10 thoughts in blue. 
 My 10 thoughts are black, like my soul.

1. Say we’re fine when we are far from fine

If you are at a point in your relationship where you still have to pretend you’re not fine, you need to reevaluate that relationship.  Stop making the person you’re with read between the lines.  Honestly is the best policy.  Tell them you hate the way they chew their food, or that their shoes smell like dog poop.  It may not fix the problem, but it damn well will fix the fact that you’ll be pouting for the next thirty minutes and he’ll be wondering why you’re doing it.

2. Eat salad for dinner

Women should not accept salads for dinner as “the norm.”  This is the reason for drunk eating, and binging, and hiding food and pretending you have allergies that you don’t (I see you gluten).  Eat some bread and get the penne ala vodka and enjoy yourself.  Be an adult and know stop you’re full.

3. Take forever to get ready

If you have no one waiting for you, take however long you want.  Just don’t tell anyone how long it took you.  If someone is waiting for you, be an adult, learn some time management, and get ready in a timely fashion.  You’re not a doctor, no one wants to wait for you to decide you’re ready.

4. Spend an entire paycheck on makeup

This is absolutely, positively, mind-blowingly crazy.  If you spend your entire paycheck on makeup, I assume you have never learned anything about budgeting.  You also probably live at home with your parents and are working a part time job where spending a pay check is a reasonable thing to do because you don’t have normal living expenses.

5. Go to the bathroom in pairs

In a crowded club or bar, absolutely, no one wants to get abducted.

6. Only drink vodka waters

This probably means that you’re constantly worrying about your weight and can’t enjoy life.  Have a beer, drink wine, vodka is not the skinny girl drank of all women.  I’m sure at the time, you weren’t worried about how you’d look in the morning after sweating on the dance floor, or after taking your heels off and walking home. Deal with the bloating.  Have a beer.

7. Eat our feelings

Refer to number 2.

8. Stalk people on social media

Everyone stalks people on social media.  It’s the degree to which you do it that’s crazy.  If you just met a guy on tinder and have already found out where he went to high school and whether or not he has a sister or a girlfriend in his profile picture, that is where you draw the crazy line.

9. Gossip about our friends then love them 10 minutes later

This is stupid.  Man up and talk shit about your friend you hate to the friend you hate.  Being an adult sucks, but it comes with the fact that confrontation is expected and respected for a mature friendship to last.

10. Have 10+ pairs of black heels that correspond with our 10+ little black dresses

Girls like collecting clothing, regardless of color or size.  But there are men out there who are just as bad with their shoes and hats.  So it’s an even playing field in the fashion department.

11. Spend over $100 on a clothing item that is smaller than a piece of underwear

I don’t know what piece of clothing you can justify buying that is smaller than underwear for over $100, but girlfriend, you’re doing it wrong.  Go to Marshalls – get more for less.

An Open Letter To My Alma Mater,

college-fees

I hope this letter does not fall on deaf ears.

But apparently, each time I tell you to remove my name off your list, nobody seems to listen.

So here we go.

I’d like to thank you for your recent telephone inquiry on whether or not I would be interested in donating any denomination of money to my former institution of higher education.

Unfortunately, I will not be able to contribute this time around, or any time in the near future.

I get it; higher education is more than just monetary value.

Well, except when the price tag for tuition is more than three arms, six legs, your unborn child, and childhood pet.  Couple that with the fact that most students will be paying off the loans taken out, just to attend said university, until they are old enough to run for president, and then higher education is about the monetary value.

Please forgive me if this sounds rather short.  I don’t mean to be rude.  I am currently stressed about paying my rent, budgeting for groceries, and figuring out how to have an active social life on a miniscule salary.

I simply cannot commit to giving my money at this time.

I can, however, provide you with multiple instances over the course of my stay that conclusively clarify my budgetary commitment to the institution that taught me so much more than how to shotgun a beer in ten seconds or that I have a serious issues with self-control around all-you-can-eat buffets.

For four years, I donated to this university when I purchased countless supportive sporting event tickets.  When concerts or special events came to campus, I paid to attend.

Freshman year my RA decided my floor-to-ceiling denim blackout curtains were not only atrocious, but a fire hazard; and instead of admitting I was fined for fashion faux pas, I considered it a mandatory donation.

Every time I walked into the school store to buy a t-shirt, a sweatshirt, or a hat to represent school spirit,  I donated and subsequently advertised.  Because, in case I didn’t mention, I’m a local celebrity, and what I wear makes mad buzz ripples around the hometown circuits.

When I finally completed all my degree requirements, I donated when I bought my cap and gown, and again when I wanted copies of my transcripts.  I paid to wear a black, cloth trash bag.

I just simply cannot commit to giving any more of my money at this time.

Maybe when I am older, I’ll have finished paying off my loans, and established myself in my career. Maybe I will have more of a disposable income to allocate such funds towards the school that did not really do much to help me get a job upon graduation.

Or maybe I’ll just be saving up to put my kids through school.

All so you can call them after graduation and ask if they’d like to donate any of their money to the institution that will give them the brightest future and the most hope.

PS – I’m sorry I hung up on you after your introductory sentence.  That was rude and I am sorry.

Sincerely,

Anyone Who Has Ever Graduated Or Attempted To Graduate College But Is Too Poor To Give Back Or Too Cynical To Care

 

 

The Friday Five: My Favorite Posts Of The Week

Each week, I list off my favorite posts from all the wonderful blogs I follow.  I mean, if I love you, why shouldn’t the rest of the world?  So, without further adieu, here are the posts that really got my attention this week!

Friday Favorites

Friday Favorites

Suzie81 Speaks: Three Months Holiday a Year: The Common Misconceptions of Teaching

Loved this one for the sole reason that I used to be a teacher and every time I told people about it, their main response was, “Oh, you’re so lucky you get summers off!”  I feel your pain, girl!  And now I’m in marketing, not using my degree, and really grabbing life by the horns. (Sarcasm).

Wordy & Nerdy: ONCE UPON A TIME: LET’S GO EXPLORING!

I just started following Arya, and she has already amazed me with her talents.  For being 14, she is incredibly observant and has a great head on her shoulders.  This post in particular reminded me of being a kid, when I wanted to renounce my position in the family and live off the land like Pocahontas.

Starting Write Now: Talking To Strangers

I loved this post!  I am a huge advocate of talking to new people, gaining cultural experiences, and branching out.  Moving is a huge deal, especially for children who already have roots in a city or town, but this is an uplifting, fresh look at starting over.

 Just Some Dish: Wordless Wednesday: So it’s shedding season again.

I chose this one because of the dogs.  I fucking love dogs.

Falling From Grace: 20 Things I Hate About Being 20

Freshly twenty and learning the ropes.  Don’t worry girl, I hate Taylor Swift, too.  It get’s better.  At least you’re not twenty-five and eating spoonfuls of chunky peanut butter for dinner.

BONUS: How To Insult People: Game of Thrones Edition

Because I’m in love with Jon Snow and I’m not afraid to say it.  Someone get him to notice me.  SOMEONE.

Who likes badges?  Everyone, that’s who!  If I featured your post this week, or in any previous weeks, feel free to grab one of these bad boys and slap in on your blog so the world can know you’ve been baked with greatness by yours truly.

xoxo, Meg

thehalfandhalfblog.com

BUTTON SWAG

What was your favorite post (by you or someone else) from this week?  Submit it in a comment and maybe I’ll feature my top five favorites next Friday!

How To Insult People: Game Of Thrones Edition

JonSnow020513

… and he knows nothing.

Are you ever in the midst of a battle of words and you just don’t know what to say?

Do you often find yourself searching your brain for the best insult, yet the only rebuttal you use is either “Your mom” or “That’s what she said?”

Well, my friend, you are in luck!  Because not only should everyone be well read in the game of insults, everyone should also be well read in The Game of Thrones!

Seriously, those books are fire flames, and Jon Snow is my literary husband and trueborn soulmate.  He just doesn’t know it yet, because he’s not real or on the same continent as me.

I digress.

WARNING: MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS BUT I DON’T GIVE A SHIT CAUSE I’VE READ THE BOOKS AND AM CLEARLY A SUPERIOR BEING. 

Here is how to insult people, Game of Thrones style:

  • Go back to your home on The Eyrie!
  • You’re so ugly, you look in the mirror and see Tyrion’s face.
  • You’re so poor, you don’t even have an account at the Iron Bank of Braavos.
  • You breastfed until you were eleven!
  • If I could throw you out a moon door, I would.
  • You’re so nasty that if you were a warg, all you could turn into was a piece of shit.
  • Your best friend is Moon Boy, you peasant.
  • I hate you so much, I would get the Tyrells to poison you.
  • You’re so ugly, Theon Greyjoy wouldn’t even take you for a salt wife.
  • You’re not even trueborn, bastard.
  • I’ll Ned Stark your ass.
  • Your sister is more of a man than you.
  • Varys has more sex than you.
  • I hope you have a red wedding.
  • The Starks have better luck than you.
  • You couldn’t hire a sellsword for a trial by combat.
  • I would marry you to Joffrey Baratheon if I could.
  • Melisandre would burn you at the stake.
  • Your face is uglier than the Hound’s.
  • You have sex with your sister.
  • Sansa Stark could beat you in a fight.
  • Your parents are blood relatives.
  • You fight with a wooden sword.
  • Hodor has a better vocabulary than you.
  • You’re as handy as Jaime Lannister.
  • Slaves don’t even listen to you.
  • You’re more in the closet than Loras Tyrell.
  • I hope dragons fry all your livestock to a crisp.
  • Unsullied have bigger penises that you.
  • No one would pay ransom for you.
  • You’re so worthless, the Night’s Watch wouldn’t even take you.
  • Samwell Tarley can run faster than you.
  • Aemon Targaryen has better eyesight than you.
  • Your teeth are so big, a Dothraki wouldn’t even ride you.
  • You’re so deep in the friend zone, Jorah Mormont feels bad for you.
  • You’re so dumb, they should cut your tongue out so you can’t speak.
  • You’re as hard as Theon Greyjoy.
  • You know less than Jon Snow.

Special thanks to Bryan (@BesusHChrist) and Matt (@mmang0), both of whom feverishly fired insults at me to fatten up my list.

What’s your favorite insult?

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?

Proud Member of The Clean Plate Club

The first thing I do when I know I’m going out to eat is look up the menu online.

The second thing I do is show up with a predetermined idea of what I want to eat, see the menu in front of me and immediately act like I’ve never seen any of the entrees before.

I have this thing where I feel like I need to eat all of the things on the menu for fear of missing out on something delicious.  I want four different appetizers before my main meal.

Against my company’s wishes, they eventually oblige my need to fulfill all my cravings, and order an array of teaser treats and divine dishes that I will never, under any circumstances be able to finish.

Or maybe I just hated what I got.

After the meal, we box the unfinished dishes up.  We take the leftovers home.

Much like going out to dinner, life’s expectations never match reality.  Sometimes experiences aren’t what you expect.  Things don’t always go according to plan.

At the end of the day, you never really put everything out on the table.  As human beings, we like to keep things, harbor them, pack them away.  We never want to purge our lives of things that are meaningful.

We keep the leftovers of relationships, fights, and adventures.  We harbor them.  We might need them later on.

So we take them with us, put them away, and save them for later.  For better or for worse.

Leftovers come in many different forms.

On the one hand, there are the ones that stay good for a long period of time.  These are the good times, the memories you want to keep, the ones when you open up that box and remember how juicy that steak was, and how it was perfectly paired with those mashed potatoes.

Kind of like how you felt when you put on a dress after losing all that weight, and getting to pair it with those heels you’ve been waiting to wear for months.

On the other hand, there are the meals you take back and they just aren’t good after a day.  You take it out, open it and immediately regret thinking you could handle this at a later time.

These are the mornings after a night of drinking and you reach for a water bottle, only to take a swig of straight vodka.  Thank you, college.  You can die now.

Sometimes you want to take it home just because you paid for it.  Like that impulse purchase at Marshall’s, again, that you’ll only really wear once, but you had to have it, even though it just ends up claiming space in your closet.

You take them home because you feel bad.  Like that sweater your grandmother gave you for Christmas or that guy who was really nice to you at the bar (but you’ll totally be a lady, of course).

Maybe it was part of a meal that you will never forget.  Like a fight with your mother where the words still linger in the coming years.

We all have leftovers.

Except for me.  I am part of the Clean Plate Club, suckers. #NoRegrets

The Common White Girl’s Thoughts On Driving

When I get in my car, it is for a reason.

I have places to be.  Meetings to make.  People to see.  Errands to run.  Songs to sing at the top of my lungs to relieve my stress.

I have important tasks that need attending, and everyone else on the road should know this.

There is a code of excellence I expect my fellow road companions to adhere to, and frankly, I just don’t know if everyone knows what they are.

I am a common white girl, and I am the most important person on the road.

When I get into my Volkswagen Jetta, I immediately plug in my ipod, put on my favorite Early 2000’s Pop Hits station, and make sure I have the proper song vibes to truly coast to my destination in nostalgic style.

While waiting at a traffic light, if it happens to turn green before I notice, please refrain from honking. I am most likely drafting an extremely urgent text message containing vital information like: what kind of sushi rolls are my favorite, if I prefer red or white wine, how I’m doing on my summer diet.

Or I am impatiently staring into the distance after regrettedly rereading the eighty messages I sent to my boyfriend that he still hasn’t respond to yet.

While en route, I may forget to put on a blinker or two when I’m switching lanes. Please allow extra room for this. I will unknowingly enter your lane and claim it as my own, and get extremely upset and flustered if you so much as give me an angry glance.

I am fragile, and so is this car my father bought for me.

If it looks like I am not paying attention to the drivers on either side of my vehicle, it is because my sunglasses are too big and cover too much of my face.  I simply cannot be held responsible for my peripheral vision when I have dark brown bugeye lenses that are shielding my precious pupils from the sun’s harmful glares.

When I drive, I follow the mantra set forth by none other than the Goddess of Country music, Carrie Underwood.  I don’t wear seatbelts, I let Jesus take the wheel.

Sidenote: I will also dig my key into the side of anyone’s pretty, little, souped up, four wheel drive, and then promptly carve my name into the leather seats.  After, I’ll take a Louisville Slugger to both of the headlights, and slash holes in all four tires.  So don’t even think about cheating on me.

And yes, sometimes I will hit things.  It’s not my fault.  I can’t see over my steering wheel, and even if I could, I can’t be held accountable for that mailbox post taking growth hormones and sprouting overnight, or that curb that miraculously appeared out of nowhere.  I hope you understand.

Yeah.  I’ll write you a check.

Realistically, I hit something because I was stuffing my face with food that I  inevitably “forgot” I ate, so those calories don’t even count.  That’s right, food consumed in the car does not count towards any dietary caloric restrictions.  And if it doesn’t count, it never happened, just like that mailbox I hit.

Either that, or I was looking out the window and saw a gorgeous patch of grass that needed to be Instagrammed.  People must know what I am doing at all hours of the day, or else they will think I live a boring life completely devoid of fun, filters, and friends.

And we can’t have that, now can we?

So, excuse me while I completely cut you off, forget to go on green, or run over your lawn.  I am a common white girl, and I am the most important person on the road. 

 

The Friday Five: My Favorite Posts Of The Week

Each week, I list off my favorite posts from all the wonderful blogs I follow.  I mean, if I love you, why shouldn’t the rest of the world?  So, without further adieu, here are the posts that really got my attention this week!

Friday Favorites

Friday Favorites

Meaghan McGoldrick: My mother hated tattoos, so naturally I got one for her

I love this girl.  She has such a similar sense of humor to me, and I always get excited when she posts something new.  This post really grabbed my attention because of my love for tattoos.  If you love them, and even if you don’t, you should read this because it’s heartwarming, funny, and witty all at the same time.

The Dating Diaries: Lessons Learned

Just stumble upon this blog recently, and I am so impressed.  I love the headstrong, realistic attitude of this post, and it’s an eye opener especially for how I am when I’m dating someone.

Ellroy Was Here: Fear And Loathing In The Third Stall

I hate public restrooms.  This was a funny post about rules, mostly unwritten, that are supposed to be followed.  People tend not to listen, and they tend to make a mess.  But if you learn anything from this post, please avoid the first stall at all costs.

Hand of Anake: A Simple Analogy, But I Think It Works

Love this attack on ignorance and the people using words in a derogatory manner.  He puts it in a simple analogy, and for anyone who hates to be tickled, you will immediately understand the connection to a slur and an unwanted attack.

The Dimwhit: What’s In A Name? Sometimes A Racial Slur

I just love this because whenever I’m at Starbucks I always think about the people who get their name spelled wrong on their cups.  It’s an interesting look at how a name can be interpreted by different people.

BONUS: I Got Lost In The Dating Pool

My not so expert advice on dating using an extended metaphor.  May be my favorite post I’ve written to date. (No pun intended)

Who likes badges?  Everyone, that’s who!  If I featured your post this week, or in any previous weeks, feel free to grab one of these bad boys and slap in on your blog so the world can know you’ve been baked with greatness by yours truly.

xoxo, Meg

thehalfandhalfblog.com

BUTTON SWAG

 

 

What was your favorite post (by you or someone else) from this week?  Submit it in a comment and maybe I’ll feature my top five favorites next Friday!