Let’s all hang out, wear a trendy cyber leather jacket and buy a virtual motorcycle. It’s time to join the first ever internet biker gang!
A Loose Interpretation of To Kill A Mockingbird
“You can choose your friends but you sho’ can’t choose your family.” – Harper Lee
The theme of family is consistent throughout To Kill A Mockingbird. With juxtaposing character views on the subject, the reader can choose to side with Atticus Finch, where you accept your family and the blessings or curses, if you will, that come with them; or choose to side with Aunt Alexandra, who believes in kicking out the unworthy and preserving what is “good” within the bloodline.
If we’re talking about picking sides, I’m going to saddle up with Atticus on this one. I love my family and all the weird they bring into my life. My parents are two of the most selfless human beings to ever walk this earth, constantly making sure my brothers and I had everything we needed growing up. My three younger brothers taught me self defense; like physically shielding my face from flying objects, thwarting slaps from all directions, and building general mental walls so I don’t get hurt in other ways (ie, boys who are not related to me).
self-timer status
On the contrary, I want to play a little Devil’s Advocate here. As mentioned above, I LOVE my family. Wouldn’t change a thing. But like, what if I could? What if I could pick three new brothers, a new mother, and a new father?
The thought tickled my pop culture nerve. Suddenly, I had a fake family to create, and it was going to be the best fake family in the whole internet world.
It took extensive research, hours on the couch, and about four bottles of wine to come up with my replacement family, and our motto: If it aint broke, it will be soon.
Without further adieu, these are the people I want to (hypothetically) replace my current family members:
Phil Dunphy
Phil Dunphy is my new dad because who doesn’t want an overgrown child as a guardian and protector? There’s a 90% chance he’d agree to replacing the stairs with a slide.
Lucille Bluth is the kind of mother that makes you wish you were an orphan. But this is my internet family, and she is the most absurd matriarch on the silver screen, and I absolutely need her.
Kevin McCallister is my new youngest brother. Booby trap city, all day, errrry day. I think we could do a lot of damage together. I also wouldn’t mind taking limos to work, the grocery store, or everywhere in general.
Seth Cohen needs to be my brother so we can wear ugly Christmas sweaters and I can attend his barmitzvah. Those parties are always OFF THE CHAIN. Goody bags were 12’s out of 10. Always. Plus, he’ll bring the one shred of humility to my internet family.
Adam DeMamp
Adam DeMamp from Workaholics needs to be my third brother for the sole reason that I am not the dumbest one in my family. My work ethic will make me look like Bill Gates in comparison to him.
Yup, I can see it now…
Summer nights with mom 🙂
College graduation!
Seasons Greetings!
Editor’s Note: I may need to take a look at the people I am choosing to surround myself with. My fake family may self-destruct thirty seconds after assembly.
Hypothetically speaking, if you could recreate your family with Hollywood’s mecca of characters, who would you pick?
I’m Obsessed With SkyMall And I Don’t Care Who Knows It
Some people hate flying. I happen to love it.
And it’s not because you can get drunk above sea level. It’s not because I’m anticipating landing at my destination. It’s definitely not because of that one time the inflight radio played Hilary Duff’s Metamorphosis on repeat for six hours while I traveled to California from New York.
I love flying because I simply cannot wait to sit down, pull open the seat back pocket and unveil the latest issue of SkyMall.
There have been heated debates as to which magazine is the best in all the land. And personally, I don’t even think it’s a close race.
Sure, People has celebrity gossip, and fashion advice from the professionals.
Cosmopolitan has those weird sex positions that make you want to renounce citizenship and become celibate before ever letting your partner near you while only wearing a chef hat and wielding a spatula.
But SkyMall has everything you didn’t know you needed all inside an 87 page magazine.
For when plugs simply just don’t cut it.
Have you ever been washing your hands and thought about how your phone was about to die? SkyMall has the answer. Aside from the fact that your phone probably isn’t waterproof, and this may be a pretty risky purchase, you can rest assured that you will be the only one of your friends that can simultaneously dry their hands and charge their iPad.
The new-age scarecrow.
Put all those history buffs in their place with this Jurassic-sized velociraptor statue. Fossil buffs and Pangea enthusiasts can spruce up their garden with this carnivorous lizard that will surely keep those pesky deer from eating your plants when you’re away.
Actually, it should be noted that the entire outdoor patio section is a MUST SEE. But keep your wallets locked up, or else you’ll end up spending money on an 8-foot-tall giant silverback gorilla statue and a BigFoot garden yeti sculpture to match your dinosaur collection.
I’m not even joking when I tell you the best present I’ve ever received was from SkyMall. I’d like to take this time to thank my aunt for purchasing me a glorious white noise machine that soothes my soul and puts me to sleep like a straight up boulder every night. I would be a thousand times more grumpy than I already am without it.
Not to mention, SkyMall is just adding fuel to my obsessive fire because they follow me on twitter. I’m not sure if it’s because they’re rewarding my supportive nature, or they’re just genuinely scared that I may off myself if I don’t get some sort of social recognition for my commitment to a travel magazine.
Hey, SkyMall, if you’re looking for models for your products, or need a potentially over enthusiastic person to write really amazing product descriptions, inquire within. I can absolutely help you out.
#BornForThis
Who did it better? (Don’t answer that.)
Amateur.
Your Cell Phone Is Turning You Into A Jackass
Have you ever had a tree magically appear in the middle of your walking path? Bump into a mailbox that had the audacity to stick out just a little too far from its post? Fall victim to a dip in the sidewalk that DEFINITELY wasn’t there yesterday?
If you answered yes to any of these questions, you may not know it, but your cell phone is turning you into a jackass.
A lot of people in today’s society would rather lose both arms and trade their first born instead of going a day without their cell phone. We have this need to be connected at all times of the day; to know what is going on every minute of every hour. Without our phones, we might miss what Angelina Jolie wore to the grocery store at 8:36am on a Tuesday.
But I’m not here to point fingers. I have, at one or many points, answered yes to all three of the questions I posed above. Which is why I have recognized and admitted that my cellphone has in fact, turned me into an asshole.
If you live in a city, or anywhere that generates substantial foot traffic, you recognize that something as simple as walking in a straight line may seem like a Herculean task for some people. There are those people who take up the entire sidewalk, or those who think that suddenly stopping will somehow make the laws of inertia follow suit, preventing everyone who is following from a body to body collision.
If you put a cell phone in the hands of any and/or all of those people, the world might just self destruct.
When you have your cell phone in your hand, everyone around you becomes irrelevant. It’s almost as if it emits a force field that envelops your entire body, blocking out all sound, sight, and common sense. So naturally, that oak tree sprouted overnight, that mailbox is absolutely sticking out too far, and that dip in the sidewalk was definitely not there the day before.
On the off chance that you happen to be a human being who doesn’t use their phone for an application telling you how to put one foot in front of the other, yet you still can’t put it down for your ten minute walk to wherever it is you’re going, we would all like you to know that we understand how important your life is, and we will start making adjustments to our schedules to stay out of your way.
Your cellphone cloud of ignorance does not dissipate when you leave the sidewalk, it follows you into your home, your work, and your social life.
When you are out with friends and simple conversation isn’t enough to stimulate your brain, your cell phone might be turning you into a jackass. Refusing to acknowledge anyone else’s conversational needs before your own is a tell tale sign of not giving a fuck about anyone but yourself.
I’m sure the person or people you are out with loves staring at your forehead while you answer text messages from friends who are not currently present. Seeing you take a phone call at dinner and then listening in on half of your conversation with your cousin, John, may or may not be the highlight of their day.
There are several remedies that can help reverse being a jackass when it comes to using your phone. All you need to do is simply take your cellphone, place it in your pocket, and go wherever you need to go. I promise no one will think you have no friends if you are walking around completely aware of your surroundings.
You can also take a more extreme approach, and when out with friends, put your phone on vibrate, silent, or in some cases, even powered off. This will ensure that you will have face-to-face, uninterrupted conversations with whomever you’re out. Should the occasion arise where one or more parties need to use the restroom, feel free to take out your phone to check to see if anyone thinks you’ve skipped town.
But, maybe you could use the brief moment of solitude to reflect on your newfound freedom, know that you’re with a person or group of people who have chosen to hang out with you, and revel in the fact that you do indeed have friends even though you are not currently on your phone talking to someone.
Or you can always just be a jackass.
Honest Acceptance Speeches
Yeah, we all know you want to thank your parents, your family, and your fans. But really, how can you forget all the things that really make the world go round?
First and foremost, I’d like to thank:
- Bono, for single handedly fueling sales of blue polarized sunglasses.
- Puppies, for teaching couples that kids are really going to be a lot of work.
- Crunchy peanut butter, for diversifying the snack game.
- Maxi dresses, for being my entire summer wardrobe.
- Sunglasses, for allowing me to sneakily stare at people without being noticed.
- Snuggies, for repurposing the bathrobe by simply wearing it backwards.
- Text messages, for allowing me to ignore phone calls because “I can’t talk right now.”
- Tattoos, for permanently reminding me of how stupid I am.
- Beyonce, for being “everything,” so girls all over the world “literally can’t even” to the point that they “die.”
- Grease, for clearly indicating when I need to shower.
- Barbecues, for giving everyone an excuse to eat and drink outside.
- Scarves, for catching all my crumbs so I can save them for later.
- Glasses, for allowing my eyeballs to be puffy with a barrier.
- Air conditioning, for keeping me sane when it’s above 74 degrees.
- Nick Lachey, for somehow staying relevant.
- Dancing with the Stars, for cutting Kim Kardashian in the first week.
- American Idol, for proving that The Voice is better.
- Katy Perry, for comparing men to aliens, all while looking like an alien herself.
- The Skinny Arm Pose, for making girls everywhere create triangles with their bodies.
- Instagram, for giving everyone the option to look better than they actually do.
- Push-Button Faucets, for showing me that I take too long to wash my hands.
- The DMV, for teaching me that I have no patience.
- The grocery store snack aisle, for your ability to make me forget and disregard everything I initially came to buy.
- iPhone screenshot, for allowing me to capture inside jokes in text message threads and post them on social media, even though no one else will understand what it means.
- Status updates, for letting me know that Carl from Florida is currently on his third episode of Hoarders with no plans of stopping anytime soon.
- Spaghetti, for demonstrating that I am not an attractive eater.
- Selfies, for letting the world know exactly what my face looks like at all hours of the day.
- Buns, for somewhat salvaging my bad hair day.
- Makeup, for making me look like a human being.
- Accents, for blessing the world with imitation material.
- Bret Michaels, for his commitment to the bandana cause.
- Oreos, for being milk’s favorite cookie.
… And of course, last and certainly not least, I’d like to thank Leonardo DiCaprio, for being my imaginary husband and life partner. You’re the best, babe. I wouldn’t be here without all your love and support.
Stay classy.
Hey Mom. I Kinda Owe You. Big Time.
Happy Mother’s Day 🙂
Mom,
You were the vessel that carried me for nine, long months until I graced the world with my presence that stormy Friday morning.
I know you were probably busy with all that childbirth business, but I’m pretty positive the storm outside was a foreshadow for what you were going to deal with once I became a teenager. Either that, or it’s the reason why I love thunderstorms so much, but I’m going to go with the latter.
Thanks for being there for me.
For telling me to shut up when I was being dramatic.
For listening to me vent and not taking my side because I was wrong and you knew it.
For allowing me to wear boys clothing when I was going through “that phase.”
For never telling me how to dress, and allowing me to eventually find my style.
For loving me even though I refuse to eat squash.
For trying to sneak squash into all our meals by covering it with sauce and thinking we wouldn’t notice.
For showing me how chocolate can really fix your mood.
And for teaching me that wine can do that, too.
For packing my lunches even when I was twenty-two and in grad school.
For eating at the restaurant I worked at, and leaving me a huge tip even though I was a terrible waitress.
For always having the fridge stocked when I come home for the weekend.
For Wednesday Wine nights and summers by the pool.
For making me love running.
For encouraging me to put down my second helping of dessert.
For talking to me on the phone four times a day, just because I’m bored.
And then for telling me I call you too much and I need to learn how to be alone.
For helping me move out, and move in, and then move out again. Twice.
For not getting mad at me for constantly stealing all of your clothes.
For being forgiving of all the strange, stupid, selfish, and somewhat questionable things I did when I was younger.
For the forgiveness I will need when I continue to do all those things as I get older.
For being the shit.
Words cannot express what you mean to me. So I guess I will just say, “I love you.”
Dear Girls Of Tomorrow,
I’ve been there before. I’ve made those mistakes. Take my advice: here’s how not to dress.
We live in a digital age. It’s no secret that most things we do eventually end up on the internet. This is awesome for events like New Years Eve, birthday parties, and charity events or functions.
Then there are the events involving a face plant in the street running to catch the late bus that your friend HAD to document.
To put it bluntly, not everyone is photogenic. But that doesn’t give you an excuse to throw common sense out the window with the baby and the bathwater.
What I’m saying is, there’s going to be pictures of you girls circulating the internet for the rest of your lives. You need to take preventative measures to ensure that when you do land your dream job interview, a picture of you in seventh grade wearing a Ronald Regan mask and your grandmother’s bathrobe doesn’t surface during the process.
So you should not do any of these things before or during taking a picture that will represent you for the rest of your life at that age, and your friends and family will also see it and that is how they will remember you forever.
2nd Grade
A general rule of thumb is to not wear your grandmother’s tablecloth when taking a photo.
A nice pink embroidered doily collar may seem cutesy and innocent, but in reality it will only make your co-workers and peers question whether or not your mother took outfits off your life-sized Raggedy Ann doll and dressed you in them in an effort to save money.
Also a good thing to remember is to not do dangerous activities before a known photo-op. Going on a two-wheel bike adventure when you aren’t the most confident rider isn’t the type of activity you want to roll into when your third grade yearbook photo is right around the corner.
3rd Grade
If you’re just too adventurous and crazy to avoid indulging in extreme sports, you’ll inevitably be the girl wearing long underwear because you can’t fit regular sleeves over your cast.
REMEMBER: THERE ARE ALWAYS RETAKES. ALWAYS.
Borrowing argyle sweater vests from your youngest brother is not only frowned upon, but in some countries it’s illegal. I don’t care how flawless your hair looks that day, or if you were an ombre pioneer before ombre was a ‘thing,’ you do not need clothes that badly that you resort to rummaging through your brother’s drawers to find an outfit.
4th Grade
(But I mean look at that blonde to light blonde fade, it’s totally magnificent, right?)
Make sure your shirts fit you.
A good way to determine if a shirt fits is by making sure it is not two sizes bigger than every other shirt you own. Or that is not your mom’s.
5th Grade
Don’t wear choker necklaces, even if that dangly bead in the middle is the most jaw-dropping plastic gemstone you own, and it makes Rose’s sapphire necklace from Titanic pale in comparison.
Seriously, don’t get bangs in puberty.
I don’t care if they look great on Sabrina, the cool girl, you will ultimately end up gluing them to your scalp with a can of Rave hairspray every morning and consequently looking more like a guido-gremlin hybrid than a fifth grade girl.
Oh yeah… and braces. There are no rules about braces except that it’s required to change the rubber band colors to coordinate with the holidays.
Don’t set the tone for your middle school reputation by wearing a floral v-neck from Limited Too.
6th Grade
Also, practice your smile extensively before taking any pictures.
Photographs aren’t forgiving – neither are parents when it comes to allowing you to hang out with their children.
Creepy smiles will not get you very far. It definitely won’t get you a babysitting job.
Puberty is the worst time in your life. Try and make the best of it.
7th Grade
Wearing half-turtle neck argyle sweaters is not a way to make the best of it. At the very least, if you’re going to do it, commit to a full neck or at least a scarf.
It’s imperative that you never, ever let your mother attempt to tame your pubescent mane by straightening it with a curling iron. You will end up with tresses shaped like a voluminous frizz triangle and have people asking if someone rubbed a balloon on the back of your head to create static electricity.
Wearing your hair in a half-up, half-down fashion is completely acceptable, if done correctly.
8th Grade
Wearing half of your hair in a bun from gym class and the other half down as the remnants of last night’s botched straightening job is a big, big no no no nononononoNO.
Plus, wearing a collared shirt with a lace-up neckline is one step shy of actually going cookoo for Coco Puffs.
And again, with the smile. Please, for the love of God, practice your smile.
Avoid shopping at Aeropostale, Wet Seal, or Rave.
9th Grade
Don’t take two tiny tresses located at the widow’s peak section of your hairline and wear them in a bang-like, accessory fashion, not pulling them into your ponytail or headband.
You will regret this. Mostly because you will slightly resemble a dinosaur.
Last, but definitely not least, if your friends ever tell you it’s okay to take sweatshirts from lost and found and parade around claiming them as your own, please ignore them and immediately question their intelligence.
By not doing these things, and following my instructions, strangers will not have to wonder – even just a little bit – if you grew to develop an odd affinity for fedoras or played the tambourine in a traveling band.
Ultimately, fashion consciousness is not always second nature with every girl, clearly it wasn’t my strong point. At the end of the day, if you don’t do or wear what makes you happy, you’re missing out on a lot of what life has to offer. Do what you love, and wear what you want.
Unless it’s a lace up, argyle, v-neck polo. Please, please, please avoid those.
UP NEXT: How to NOT apply make-up.
Love,
Meg (President of the Late Bloomers)
Treat Emotions Like Beer, Bottle Them up.
brothers.
Although my parents would characterize my seemingly regular childhood temper tantrums as a pretty aggressive display of emotion, outside of demanding extra dessert and slapping my brothers for ripping the heads off my barbies, I’ve never been great at expressing my feelings.
Maybe it was because I grew up with three younger brothers. As the oldest of four, and the only girl, I never really had a model for how to act. My mother and I, although very close, are very different when it comes to personality.
Needless to say, if you’re going to survive eighteen years in the midst of a male dominated household, you have to learn how to protect yourself in emotional combat. Aside from the regular physical battles, the way brothers really get to you is by finding your mental weaknesses, and attacking when you least expect it.
Growing up with brothers teaches you not to dwell on little things, to stand up for yourself, and how to be competitive. But it also, unintentionally, leads you towards the masculine side of the emotional spectrum; so instead of saying how you feel in the moment, you retreat and don’t talk about it.
When you hang out with boys all the time, you learn that they would rather give you a beer than sit and listen to your problems.
friends.
Because nothing makes guys more uncomfortable than when a girl just unloads all her personal crap on them. Especially if it’s during a football game or when you’re out at a bar. When you have a “girl day,” you learn to drink a beer and deal with it later.
This works well until you realize you are in college and have not sustained one real or lasting relationship during your lifetime. If someone wanted to date me, I was either unaware or uninterested, because if it meant talking about feelings and being vulnerable, I didn’t want any part of it.
Everyone puts up walls for different reasons. Personally, the initial thought of letting someone in that you barely know is daunting. The act of sharing secrets, opening doors to your past, and exposing yourself, metaphorically, to another person for the sake of a connection is terrifying.
At the same time, while a little mystery is a good thing, there needs to be a dichotomy between the two people in a relationship to make it work. Eventually you will have to let your guard down.
Recently, there have been an overwhelming amount of circumstances that formidably illustrate my inability to give up control over certain aspects of my life. Whether it be attending a friend’s wedding, my parent’s thirtieth anniversary, or my most recent breakup, I have come to the brutal realization that I need to step outside my comfort zone in order to foster a meaningful connection with someone.
I’ve had my fair share of crazy experiences: skydiving, bungee jumping, one time I even ate cat food. But the tangible part of being afraid is much more desirable than emotionally freefalling into unknown territory. I mean at least after skydiving I got a sticker telling me I did a good job not dying.
Thinking about the craziest thing I’ve ever done, I immediately remember how terrified I was to actually commit to it. Picking up and moving to a new city, alone, without a job or any financial support other than my own was the single most daunting event in my life. But looking back on the past year and a half, knowing where I am now, the reward was totally worth the struggle.
At the end of the day, no one can make you take that leap other than yourself. Outside influences, supportive or not, have no weight compared to what your gut tells you to do. Knowing that personal reflection and a willingness to change are attributes I admire in someone, it only makes sense that I try and develop them.
My twenty-fifth birthday is only a few weeks away. I’m not entirely positive if it is the looming “quarter-century” age label weighing on my conscious, or just the stark reality that I’m resisting a change I know I need to make, but either way, it’s scary as all hell knowing that being vulnerable is something that is not only expected, but appreciated in lasting relationships.
I guess I’ll just have to be twenty-five and terrified.
I just hope someone gives me a sticker on my thirtieth birthday. I need to know I did a good job not dying.
Food Taught Me Everything I Ever Needed To Know About Life
You can learn a lot about a person by what they eat. And no, I’m not saying you should stare at people while they’re eating, that’s rude. Unless it’s a celebrity, then please report back because I NEED to know what Oprah eats for breakfast that makes her so powerful.
This may come as a shock – or it won’t because you’ll realize that my brain works in strange ways, and this is just one of those things that makes me unique – but food has taught me everything I ever needed to know about life.
Real talk.
Sidenote: Let me start off by saying that if you looked in my cabinet where I store all my food, you’d probably think I had a child. But alas, those are my groceries, I just eat like I’m seven. So this is one of those times where I will make judgments about others, completely ignoring the fact that I have been all of these people at one time or another.
For starters, if you’re sitting on your couch in dirty sweatpants using a ladle to eat a pint of Ben and Jerry’s, I’m going to assume you’re going through a breakup. Or at the very least, a rough week. When a spoon just isn’t big enough to satisfy your cravings for creamy delights to the point where you’re going to go straight for a ladle, among the Cherry Garcia remnants, you have heartbreak written all over your face.
And for you, I will pray. Because no one can stop after one ladle scoop of B&Js. It’s impossible.
When I see a twenty-something eating a steak with an older man or woman, it’s a safe bet that they are not paying for it. You never eat the cheapest thing on the menu when your parents are footing the bill. I’ll hit up Olive Garden and pay $9.99 for unlimited soup, salad, and breadsticks; but you best believe when I’m out with my parents I’m getting my fill of fine wine and filets.
If you can eat it in your pajamas, it’s not acceptable to feed a potential life partner. Nothing says, “Hey baby, let’s get married!” like bagel bites with a side of Doritos. You should learn to cook something substantial before you commit to someone for the rest of your life.
But when you’re drunk, it’s completely acceptable to throw all dietary restrictions and personal inhibitions out the window and go face deep into a pile of nachos and cinnastix. A good rule of thumb is: if you don’t remember it, it never happened.
This is also a great indicator for how old someone is. No one above thirty should be forgetting they ate forty-eight loaded tater tots and an entire Christmas ham the previous night due to alcohol.
I immediately know I need to tread lightly when I see someone eating a salad. Especially men. Woman have this extra chromosome where they can turn off their memories of delicious food and focus solely on bathing suit season. It makes stomaching a salad almost mouth-watering. Almost.
But the time a man voluntarily orders a cobb salad at a restaurant, don’t say anything mean to him within a five-foot-radius. He is not choosing to eat that salad. His doctor, his mother, or his girlfriend told him he needed to stop eating so many carbs and watch his cholesterol, and eating an entire head of iceberg lettuce is the only thing stopping him from shoveling a foot-long chicken parm sandwich down his throat.
When you’re around someone who is grumpy, they may need a snack. That’s why I always like to keep a few granola bars in my purse. You never know when a romantic stroll with your boyfriend will turn into the last moments of your life because you told him the restaurant was “like five minutes away” an hour ago.
Boys need to eat sixty-times more a day than women. Granola bars save lives.
I also know you’re having a great time at your dinner date by the filter you’re using to instagram your food. Anything less than a high contrast filter means your date sucks. No one wants to see a poorly photographed, low resolution cheeseburger. I want to see that thing oozing grease out of my phone.
If you don’t instagram a picture of your food, I assume you’ve either died, or are having a real, face-to-face conversation with the person who brought you out, and there may be hope for your love life after all.
Also, if you like Taco Bell, KFC, and Pizza Hut, you may be my soul mate. Inquire within.
Five Reasons with Meg Lago
Alright, the gig is up. I’m half-cow and you need to listen to me because my people are about to take over the universe. Or the internet. Or my apartment. To be determined.
Half and Half 