Fourth of Ju-LIES.

Happy Independence Day, America!

Here are some lies you can tell to all your friends today while you’re BBQing and drinking and being merry:

  • I’m not drunk.
  • This burger isn’t charcoaled to death.
  • I like your mother.
  • You look great in that dress.
  • No, I don’t mind driving.
  • I love traffic.
  • It’s a great day to go for a run.
  • Sure, I’d love to stop drinking.
  • A house without air conditioning is completely acceptable.
  • I don’t need any coffee, I’ll just wake up naturally.
  • I love wearing shoes that are a little too small.
  • You’re right, I don’t want to eat fourteen hot dogs today.
  • Fireworks are dumb.
  • I can name all of the presidents of the United States.
  • It’s totally cool that you wore non-patriotic colors to this party.
  • Parades are awesome.
  • If you asked me which square state was Kansas, I could tell you.
  • I love that there are small children at this adult gathering.
  • Could you please put your baby closer to my ear and let him scream in it?
  • Yes, I would love to babysit.
  • Sometimes, I could count my caloric intake and not be upset about it.
  • No thanks, I don’t want another beer.
  • I’d love to give you my sunglasses since you were too aloof to remember yours.
  • Those pants don’t make you look fat.
  • I love my wife.
  • I love my husband.
  • I love my children.
  • I love politics.
  • I hate my dog.
  • I wish I had less money.
  • Vacations are stupid, let’s all just work forever.
  • Hold on, I am overjoyed to answer this work email on a national holiday.
  • No, I didn’t forget to put on sunscreen, my skin just tends to run a little red.
  • I understand what the fourth of July means to America, and it’s not about beer and bbqs.
  • I have a very sound understanding of European geography.
  • I could name all fifty states and capitols.
  • Everyone can count to ten in spanish.
  • I broke 1000 on my SATs.
  • Luckily, I got into the college I wanted.
  • My friends don’t think I’m a jackass.
  • I’m really good looking.
  • People don’t know it, but I’m exactly where I want to be in life.
  • I wish my grandparents would come and lecture me on what independence really means.

Happy Fourth! Hope you don’t actually tell any lies, but have a great time with friends and family!!

The Ten Best Things People Googled To Get To This Blog

Google is a weird place.  So are brains.  Here are the ten best things people have googled that led them to this blog:

1. When someone eats all my food

I’ve been trying to figure this out my entire life.  Google can’t help you buddy, having a stomach that is a bottomless pit is a gift and a burden, you just gotta deal with it and go for that second family size bag of Cool Ranch Doritos.  Trust me, you’ll thank me later.

2. Chipotle sucks

This makes sense, seeing as we were at war not too long ago.  But I have since pledged my allegiance to the burrito men of Chipotle and have safely secured my spot back on the wagon of love.  Now, I must go get me a burrito bowl, I’M HUNGRY.

3. Deformed toes

Probably could have used google image search for this one.  I am also extremely sorry for your deformity, I can relate.  I have one too.

4. “Nice goggles, eh?”

Yes, they are very nice.  I got them on sale.

5. Christina Aguilera is half white half what?

It doesn’t matter.  She’s still waiting on when her reflection will show who she is inside.  #Mulan

6. But what’s different about Wednesday?

I’ll tell you what’s different, the goddamn spelling.  Ever try teaching a kid how to spell Wednesday and also explain why there is a phantom N just chillin’ in the middle of the word?  It doesn’t make sense.  You suck, Wednesday.

7. Justin Timberlake frosted tips

So much yes.  You don’t need google for this one, here you go:

drool.

drool.

 

8. 3rd grade girls playing

I don’t want to know who googled this or what the purpose was.  I’m terrified.

9. Justin Beiber & Selena

Power couple. Scorned lovers.  Epic romance.  Horrible tattoos.  I’m also still trying to figure out what it is exactly that Selena Gomez does.

10. Girlfriend not texting back

You got bigger fish to fry if you’re asking google why she won’t text you back.  Starting with a real human being would be my suggestion, but hey, it worked in that movie, Her, it could work for you.

 

What is the weirdest thing you’ve ever googled?

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.

The (real) 10 Reasons I Never Had A Boyfriend

If you’re reading this hoping I’ll finally come out as a lesbian after all these years, I’m sorry for your inevitable disappointment.  I do, in fact, still like men.  A lot.

Recently, I expressed my differentiating opinions on the things everyone thinks on their first date, and I figured it was time that I responded to another article.  This one is not nearly as ridiculous, and I don’t think this girl is crazy, rather she is just not telling the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

Thought Catalog tends to post uplifting, motivating articles about feminist pride, relationships, and confidence boosting lists.  And yes, I love it.  I’m completely guilty of going forty pages back on my lunch break, having my eyes glued to the screen wondering what the Eight Ways to Make A Failing Relationship Work While You’re Living In A Treehouse could possibly be.

But my friends, I am also a realist, a truth teller, and a lover of self-deprecating humor.

I read this article and identified with it.  I liked her reasons, but felt they lacked authenticity and anecdotal support from the late bloomer’s perspective.

So, I am here to save the day (not really), and embarrass myself beyond all belief when I tell you the real ten reasons I never had a boyfriend.

1.  I was ugly. 

I’ve talked about myself being a late bloomer many times.  I am not joking, if I could invent the teleport I would go back to 200-2009 and slap myself in the face every single day for nine years.  A girl that looks like she was just attacked by her brother’s wardrobe and willingly went to a school dance afterwards will not get a boyfriend.

Oh, but she has such a good personality!  Save it.  We all know that doesn’t have any weight in the game of puberty.

Exhibit A.

Exhibit A.

2.  I have a resting bitch face.

Apparently, I am unapproachable because I look pissed off all the time.  I guess people tend to stay away from girls that look like they are going to murder your first born or steal your puppy if your leave it outside while you’re in line at Starbucks getting your $14 frappe venti mochacochalino.

3.  My best friend was better looking than me.

And I’m not saying this out of jealousy.  I mean, this girl was freaking beautiful.  How am I supposed to reel in a classy lad when I have a genetically impossible broad traveling with me wherever I go?  Did I mention she has a heart of gold?  Yeah, no way I could compete with that.

4.  I liked people out of my league.

I tried telling Leo DiCaps it would work between us.  But I guess when you aim that high in the relationship department, there is nothing to expect but failure, defeat, and disappointment.

5.  I don’t understand social cues.

I don’t know why you invited me to prom with you, but I can sure as hell assume that it’s not because you wanted to hook up with me.

6.  I drove a Ford Taurus.

Try picking up a dude while you’re rolling through the parking lot in this.

Exhibit C.

Exhibit B.

7.  I am a terrible looking eater.

No one wants to take out the girl that not only immediately tucks her napkin into her shirt to create a makeshift bib, but one that looks like she wanted to wear the spaghetti sauce after she was done eating despite her napkin neck protector.

8.  I’m not good at feelings.

See here.

9.  I was fat.

I had cankles when I came back from studying abroad.  Guys couldn’t tell where my boobs ended and my stomach began.

Exhibit C.

Exhibit C.

10.  Everyone thought I was a prude.

People assumed I didn’t hook up with anyone, so why should they try?  Nothing worse for a guy than putting in all this effort with a girl and getting denied multiple times after sexual advances.

Bonus:  I eventually figured all these things out and obtained me a high quality, grade A piece of man meat.  Even though my face still rests pretty bitchy, I guess figuring out social cues was a step in the right direction.  And he’s apparently really into the Ford Taurus VW Jetta.

The Friday Five and A BIG THANK YOU.

Here are my five favorite posts from this week, and a BIG, HUGE, GIANT, MONSTER thank you to the 1000+ people who follow this blog!

Falling From Grace:  Admit it, you know when to break up with your best friend.

Grace is an awesome twenty-something writer that really captures the feelings and emotions of that decade.  This post illustrates that friendships, like relationships, are also temporary, and lets you know when it might be time to move on.

Candy Coated Cyanide: I’m not for the Bible, but I’m not exactly against it either. 

I tend to stray away from religious posts, but this one really grabbed my attention.  I don’t think of myself as a feminist, but the way this was written really made me question, in a good way, a lot of what I had learned in the past about religion and the bible, and that’s always a good thing!

Ah, The Country Life:  Don’t Question the Questionnaire

This post cracked me up and reminded me of a blog I wrote about all the lies I tell on a day to day basis.  The doctor’s office is already an extremely stressful room, but adding a redundant yearly questionnaire that constantly goes ignored is be enough to ruin anyone’s day.

Chaos + Words: Motherhood: Leave It Be

Ashley is an extremely talented writer (and fellow Tipsy member), and in this post, she showcases her ability to eloquently write about the controversial topic of motherhood.  Women are constantly asked when they are getting to that ‘next step’ in life, whether it be engagement, marriage, or kids, and she objectively argues for those who don’t see the necessity of taking that next step.

Red, White & Bitchy: Warning Shots

These girls are hilarious, first and foremost, but this post on body image really got my attention.  Taking a break from their normally sarcastic and humorous posts, they dive deeper into a girl’s need to be thinner and what she loses in the process.

Bonus: Half and Half: Had A Crappy Week?  Here’s How To Feel Better

A little self promotion never hurt nobody right?  This is one of my favorite posts — and since it’s Friday, maybe you can utilize some of my brain tools to help you feel better about slaving away from 9-5 or however long you work.

***

And as if reading all these wonderful posts wasn’t enough to make my week, I found out on Tuesday that I crossed the bridge to over 1,000 followers!

THANK YOU.

THANK YOU.

Thank you so much to all of you for your support, comments, feedback, and likes.

I am so grateful that you all read what I have to say, comment on it, and enjoy it.  It makes this whole thing so much more fun!

I owe all of you seventeen virtual wine bottles, a tray of imaginary snacks, and forty stickers.  I just need all your addresses, a week alone, and a lot of prepaid envelopes.

Now, excuse me, I have a bottle of wine with my name on it ready to celebrate.  Cheers to all you beautiful people, and here’s to the next one thousand!

(I hope.)

xoxo, Meg

In the spirit of thank yous, submit your favorite post (by you or someone else) from this week it in a comment and I’ll feature my top five next Friday!

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. 

ATTENTION: Pumpkins Are Using Jedi Mind Tricks On All Of Us

A pumpkin after my own heart.

A pumpkin after my own heart.

Summer is practically synonymous with sunscreen, ice cream, and barbecues.  I mean, I can already smell the bbq bacon cheeseburger coming fresh off the charcoal grill and it’s not because I am eating a cheeseburger at 10am.

Or it is, the jury is still out.

With each season, there is a specific scent we associate with it.  Normally I’m all for it, because scents mean that there is food somewhere in the vicinity, and that’s never a bad thing.

But I have a bone to pick with one particular scent/flavor/permeation that really just makes me angry, because it’s trying to be the favorite, and I learned in kindergarten that being the teacher’s pet meant getting special treatment, and then everyone hates you.

I’m about to drop some high voltage knowledge bombs about this goddamn pumpkin spice obsession.

I’m not going to say I hate it, because hate is a word I reserve for push button faucets and people who talk in elevators.

I’m just not all up in pumpkin’s face asking it to hang out with me.  I don’t let it have a special season, because that’s how egos grow, and I need pumpkins to know their place in this world.

Frankly, I just think that pumpkins are jedi mind tricking us all into thinking we NEED them in our lives, creating demand during the fall solstice.  Whoever is marketing for the pumpkins of the world, reveal yourself!  I need you on my team, you could probably take this here blog to new heights and help me achieve my dream of being married to Danny McBride and Jimmy Fallon at the same time. 

Seasonal privileges are for treats that make you feel like you’re going to vomit if you so much as look at another piece.  Like candy corn. It’s a scientific law that candy corn has to get the hell out of your life by October’s end, because you start to see all foods in a tri-color hierarchy of white, yellow, and orange.

Let me make this perfectly clear, there are rules set in place that have been there for hundreds of years.  They were rules created by the bromagnons and the bromosapiens to protect our taste buds from over-indulgence.

In order to be a seasonal treat, you have to follow a strict criteria, which goes as follows:

1. It must be a treat that is solely used or consumed during a specific season.

ie. candy canes, candy corns, peeps, eggnog.

2. You must want to vomit after over-consumption of said treat.

Ever tried drinking Eggnog after December? It’s almost impossible. It’s at this time you may actually realize that it doesn’t even taste that good to begin with, and you’ll regret all of it.  Eggnog = regret. Remember that.

3. You can’t be a gourd.

Plain and simple, they are a decorative item in a cornucopia. You can’t have your own season if you’re part of a fucking cornucopia.

4. As  a seasonal treat, you have to have absolutely no value to the outside world after your said season is over.

You don’t see candy canes trying to make an appearance on Valentine’s day, or Peeps trying to squeeze their demonic candy crusted bodies into your summer pool party.  They know their place, they don’t want to be in the pool with you, they want to be there when you’re running around your house trying to find where your mom ninja-hid all the colored eggs.

There you have it. A tale as old as time, a song as old as rhyme.  Pumpkins, go back to your hole in the ground, ya gourdy betch.  You don’t deserve your own season; not on my watch.

Now let me go finish my breakfast cheeseburger.

How To Determine If You’re Lazy

If you answer yes to one or more of these questions, you may be lazy.

If you answer yes to all of these questions, you may be my twin, so call me.  We can sit on the couch and try and send each other telepathic notes because we’re too lazy to speak.

10-things-you-can-t-change-about-him-no-matter-how-hard-you-try-1494275974-jul-10-2012-600x335

my man!

You might be lazy if…

  • You watch the commercials because the remote is on the table
  • You don’t brush your teeth because you just left the bathroom and don’t want to go back.
  • You eat any combination of breakfast/lunch/dinner/dessert/snacks/drinks for meals because you have not gone grocery shopping in a month.
  • You go rogue at the grocery store because you left your list in your car.
  • You go up and down every aisle in the grocery store because you did bring your list with you, it’s just at the bottomless pit that is your purse.
  • You imagine working out in your head, and then convince yourself that you actually did it.
  • You don’t want to answer a text message because it’s a lot of effort to type.
  • You stay in on the weekends because hanging out in no pants is a lot easier than getting dolled up.
  • You choose to wear your glasses because putting contacts in your eyeballs means then applying make up.
  • You don’t make your bed, you just pull your comforter up to the top in order to cover the sheets.
  • You don’t even pull up your comforter.
  • You wear a sports bra because you slept in it and didn’t want to change.
  • You don’t even wear a bra.
  • You avoid doing laundry because it means getting up.
  • You think showering is a chore rather than a necessity.
  • You play the neutral game in your car because you don’t fill up your gas tank.
  • You roll 10 feet over to the garbage can because your chair has wheels.
  • You don’t make food on the weekends because delivery comes to you.
  • You’d rather watch a movie because it cuts down the amount of time you’ll have to use the remote.
  • You don’t exercise.
  • You can’t finish simple tasks.
  • You call other people while you’re in your house to bring you things two rooms away.
  • You email you mom asking about your insurance information, even though you have a card in your wallet.
  • You use dry shampoo and perfume before you walk out the door and then tell your friends you were late because you were showering.
  • You consider exercise walking to the kitchen and back.
  • You clean your room by putting things in piles and then hiding them under things.
  • You put small bags of garbage into bigger garbage bags instead of throwing them in the dumpster.
  • You see how many times you can get away with wearing the same shirt/pants combination before someone questions your hygiene.
  • You would rather take a nap than deal with the fact that you haven’t eaten in four hours.
  • You use paper plates because all the clean ones are in the dishwasher.
  • You use your hands as a plate because you have no paper plates because you used them all due to the clean ones being in the dishwasher.
  • You go to Costco specifically to get lunch from all the free samples.
  • You didn’t finish this list because you fell asleep.
  • You didn’t finish this list because you’re me and didn’t want to think of any more scenarios.

 

Don’t You Have A Text Message To Answer Or Something?

It’s that person talking to you on the subway, the one asking about the weather in the elevator, that guy in the bar trying to make conversation with you while you’re waiting for your friend to show up.

Yeah, they’re alone too, but seriously, don’t they have a text message to answer or something?

The whole idea of spontaneous communication has been misconstrued.  If you talk to me without a reason, I assume you want something from me, you’re weird, you’re lost, or you’re just creepy.

You’re definitely not just friendly, right?  No, definitely not.  That would be… well, weird.

It may be because I hail from the northeast.  Things tend to move a little faster up here, we tend to be a little more ornery when it comes to personal space, and I guess, maybe we just think we’re a little more important.

Because we definitely have text messages to answer, and if you’re talking to me without a reason, it’s not going to be well received, because my mother needs to know that I ate three pork chops for dinner, and it’s imperative that I type it NOW.

When did it become uncomfortable to wait for someone without the security of a screen?  Why do people feel the need to answer text messages at dinner?  Or pick up phone calls on the subway?  Why are we so dependent on constant connection, yet we can’t seem to welcome a social interaction that isn’t primarily digital?

We are so concerned with friend counts, that we would request to be ‘friends’ with strangers, getting excited at how many people like what we’re doing, but we can’t sit at the same bar with a new face and speak to them directly without questioning intentions or why he or she cares about our lives.

In short, the world is fucked up.

Genuine conversation is depleting faster than the ozone layer. It is so hard to talk to someone you don’t know.  I mean, really, though… what are you supposed to say?  Hi? That’s dumb.

Standing in line waiting for lunch, some guy is talking about his favorite sandwich condiments.  He happens to love BBQ sauce almost as much as his unborn child, just like me.

But I have text messages to answer, no need to chime in with my two cents.

The older man at the bus stop has a war veteran patch on the jacket he wears every day.  He’s been through some serious shit, seen things people should never see, has perspectives that would shatter bigot minds and open eyes to what is really going on.

But no one notices his patches, no one hears his stories.  There are text messages to answer.

How about those love stories where the two people met on a bus and sparked up a conversation, the girl who dropped her keys only to have the guy of her dreams pick them up for her, the guy who moves into his new apartment and rides the elevator with the girl of his dreams?

Oh yeah, those things don’t happen.

Because there are text messages to answer.

 

The Friday Five: My Favorite Posts of the Week

Each week, I’ll be listing off my favorites 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

Pinstripes and Lipgloss:  How To Handle Being the “Other Woman” In Your Boyfriend’s Bromance

Taylor of P&L (just created that little abbreev right there, sorry Taylor!) writes a great post about dealing with your boyfriends’ bromancing ways, and how to keep a great balance between relationships and friendships.

Something on being a twenty-something:  Disregarding the notion of virginity

This post wonderfully explores the idea of virginity, and how ‘losing it’ doesn’t always have to be significant.

Routine Dreamer:  How Technology Ruins Social Interaction.

Loved this post on technology and how it has seriously influenced how people, for lack of a better word, communicate with each other in today’s social world.  Great read that really makes you think about how addicted you are to your phone, and how easy it is to hide behind a computer screen!

Tipsy Lit:  The Whisper Game

Nicole writes an extremely relatable post for anyone who has worked in the service industry on dealing with customers who value their time above, well, everyone elses.

Life As Jamie Writes It: Why girls love Instagram

I didn’t think people needed to know why girls love Instagram.  But they do. They really do. And Jamie does a great job at explaining it to the people who just don’t get it.

BONUS: Five Reasons with Meg Lago

Well, didn’t think I was going to do this little post without doing a little shameless self-promotion?  Oh, you did?  Well, sorry I’m not sorry.  Read this little post I wrote as my alcoholic nerd alter-ego over at Tipsy Lit.

Do you have a favorite post from this week?  Submit it in a comment and maybe I’ll feature it next Friday!