Home Depot: A Review

UPDATE: There’s a lot that has happened since I last wrote. I got married, got a dog, stopped complaining to people on the internet and instead used my husband as an outlet (he would like that to stop soon because he doesn’t care). But most recently, I bought a house. And with that house comes the false sense that I am, in fact, Chip and Joanna Gaines morphed into one perfectly capable, handy human that can for sure do shit myself and it will be spectacular. So took my first trip to Home Depot. And this is how it went down.

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Dear God, what is this place?

I approached the parking lot in my sleek, white Jeep Compass fresh out of 2012 and a child’s soccer game and I was immediately overcome with anxiety. First, because for the love of all things good and well, there is never a good parking spot when you need one. Second, because I know the journey on which I am about to embark and I am terrified for both myself and my wallet.

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What my husband sees every time I leave the house.

In my mind, Home Depot is like Costco. Only there are no snacks to hide behind, just the shame of my ineptitude and the fact that I didn’t realize the dress code for entry required a tool belt, or at the very least, a back pocket tape measure. Nevertheless, I decided to treat my newfound homeownership the same way I treated purchasing wholesale groceries – with an empty cart, a half-baked list and no plan for how I will fit everything in my trunk.

So I parked and hesitantly approached the orange sliding doors. There was still time to turn back. No one would know. But that’s not how I roll. I do things solely because I can film them for Instagram and make people think I am cool, edgy or in this case – handy as f*ck. A short mental pep talk, a quick slap to my own face later and I enter the vibrant-and-not-in-the-slightest-case-pearly orange gates to home remodeling heaven. The ceilings are tall, the aisles are big, the signs are signing, and OH MY GOD EVERYONE IS WEARING MATCHING ORANGE APRONS.

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The Home Depot people deciding whether or not to subject their employees to a burnt orange hell.

Home Depot was like a choose my own adventure. And I was on a quest to do something amazing. Only where to start? Bathroom? Garden? Lighting? Hardware? The opportunities were endless and I was only limited by my own incompetence and the fact that they were closing in 15 minutes.

Ignoring the fact that I severely overestimated how many middle-aged men who consider Home Depot to be their personal Lord and Savior would judge me – literally not one human, man or woman, looked at me in any way shape or form – I made my way to the lumber section because everyone who is anyone knows every good project starts with, that’s right, lumber. I had a rudimentary sketch and an idea in my head of what I needed, but there I stood at a crossroads between four different aisles, full of different kinds of wood and I had absolutely no idea how to navigate this sea of pine and walnuts.

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Me tying to figure out which wood is the ‘good wood.’

But the man in the orange apron did. His name was Johnathan and he was my home reno sherpa. Johnathan told me about quarters of inches, types of plywood and all of the things my dad probably wanted to tell me when I was younger but I was too busy not being interested in learning practical skills at 14.

Johnathan didn’t care that I didn’t know that screws and nails aren’t interchangeable. He didn’t bat an eye when he asked what kind of wood I wanted and I replied with, “Whatever is the cheapest.” He just cared that I was there and literally trying my best to look like I belonged. Or he just wanted me to leave so he could close up, the jury is still out.

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Johnathan when I told him this wasn’t my first rodeo.

He looked at my rudimentary sketch and knew exactly the kinds of things I needed. He even cut the wood to size before sending me on my way with a cart full of stuff and no idea what to do with it when I got home.

Because what I came to realize is that, Home Depot truly is like Costco. While everything may be disorganized and the things you need aren’t ever really in the place they’re supposed to be, the people are helpful and at the end of the day, do any of us really know what we’re doing? No, right? Please tell me it’s a no.

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Everyone who knows how to do basic home improvement tasks.

About two hours and 147 wrong turns later, I said goodbye to Johnathan and his orange apron, checked out at the orange cash register and walked my orange cart full of stuff out the two orange sliding exit doors to my car and felt like I had just experienced something amazing.

But really I think I just inhaled too much sawdust.

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Step Brothers Might Be Getting A Sequel So Here Are 4 More Movies That Should Follow

We’re going to the Catalina Fucking Wine Mixer!

Everyone get out your eyeballs, your most expandable pants and all of the alcohol you can fit into the crevices of your body because Step Brothers may be getting a sequel.

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[Insert comment about The Princess Diaries 3 getting a trilogy and me not mentioning it.]

[Insert rebuttal comment about how Anne Hathaway is my nemesis and I don’t like her face.]

Honestly, I was a bit hesitant to hear that one of my top five movies was getting the reboot treatment. If it’s anything like Ghosts of Sequels Past, it’s not going to be good. I mean, the odds are pretty much stacked against them.

Over here in the graveyard of “What The Fuck, Why Did You Ruin This Classic?” we have Anchorman 2, The Hangover 2/3, 22 Jump Street and an atrocity so horrible, I saved my eyeballs the equivalent to the plight of a thousand sandstorms,  Zoolander 2.

This is like becoming a thing now, though, right? Script writers today are basically just those dudes that leave to try and find a better hookup but come back to the bar at 2:30am and will hit on someone until they agree to go home with you (for the right price of about 30 million dollars, six red wines, and a trailer full of ONLY the green M&Ms).

I know, I know, but this one will be different. It’s 2016 and my new year’s resolution was to be positive. Or at least have better posture. I can’t remember, I’m slouching.

In hopes that Hollywood doesn’t totally screw this one up, here’s a list of four other Will Ferrell movies that could use a (good) reboot.

 

ELF

Need to see Buddy take on the country with the sole plot line being saving Mr. Narwhal from captivity. I like whales and I like them to be free. You go, Mr. Narwhal, you go.

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OLD SCHOOL

The only reason my dedication to ribbon dancing was validated was because of the majestic display of athleticism that Frank the Tank displayed in this movie. Plus, I honestly believe Blue was my boy and I need someone to avenge him.

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WEDDING CRASHERS

I feel like they forgot to mention Rule No. 88 – Make thy sequels whenst they are demanded. And someone give him some goddamn meatloaf for Pete’s sake.

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THE OTHER GUYS

I need this more because of Mark Walhberg and his abdominals, but also because Gator needs his Gat. But not immediately because Eva Mendez is a genetically impossible human that sometimes I just feel bad about myself.

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What movies would you like to see get a sequel?

Will I Ever Love Anything As Much As My Boyfriend Loves Sports?

There are some relationships that are, for lack of a better term, enviable.

You know, the ones fueled by passion, commitment, humor and above all, trust. The ones that, at the end of the day, regardless of how much they fight, you know they’ll make up and be alright and continue to support each other.

This is how my boyfriend feels about sports.

Let’s just be clear, I definitely do not hate sports. I’ll sit and watch whatever ball is on television as long as there are a reasonable amount of snacks and alcohol in front of me.

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But there’s something seeing someone constantly have another person on their mind, wondering what they’re doing, checking their status updates and talking to his friends about what they’re doing next.

Because he knows how important investing into a relationship is and he’s proud to show off those who he supports.

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You know, the way he just KNOWS everything about every single player on the field, can recite their college teams, even high schools, without even looking up to the left to recall the memory.

Because he cares about them that much to know that to truly appreciate someone, you have to know where they came from.

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I see the passion he has for his fantasy football team, caring deeply about their injuries, yelling at them incessantly for missing catchable balls, touchdowns, and field goal opportunities.

Because he honestly sees their potential and he knows they can do better.

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It doesn’t matter where he is financially, he’s ready to double down and spend money when he may not exactly have a lot of it. He’s committed to being there every step of the way, from making it to the small games all the way up to the biggest of stages.

Because he knows he can trust them to show him a good time, even if his expectations don’t always match his reality.

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To know what it’s like to hate someone so much, swear to never come back to them again, but your bond, your loyalty is so strong, that you’re right back on the couch the next day watching that same team that ruined your life the night before.

Because he’s loyal and he’ll be there through the ups and downs. No matter what.

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Now, that’s love.

Do I ever think I’ll love something more than my boyfriend loves sports?

To be honest, I think the answer is no.


What do you think? Do boys love sports more than anything else?

The Top 5 Reasons I Wash My Hands After Going To The Bathroom

This is going to be a good one, kids!  First of all, I’d like to acknowledge that poop and pee are gross, and I’m not going to talk about them in this post other than when I just mentioned it just now.

Now that that’s over, it may seem as though I’ve gone off my rocker with this one.  And while you are absolutely right, it doesn’t detract from the fact that at the very least, I’m encouraging cleanliness.

So clean! NOT.

So clean! NOT.

And yes, I do wash my hands after the bathroom because it’s necessary and I don’t want my mother to think she raised a vagabond. But that’s not a fun reason. So these are the fun (real) reasons I do it.

5. It’s fun to test out the power of the dryers.

If you see a powerful dryer and you aren’t psyched to wash your hands, you suck at life and don’t have fun.  There is no greater joy than watching your skin spread apart and make fleshy mountains because the dryer air is coming out at such a rapid pace.  Don’t tell me you’ve never put your face under it. You have or you will. End of story.

4. Someone else is doing it. 

You cannot, I repeat, cannot be the person who walks out of the bathroom while someone else is washing their hands without washing yours. You may think you won’t ever see that person again, but low and behold, you’ll be making eye contact all the way down the elevator because he or she followed you out after your hasty, non-clean exit. And there will be judgment. So much judgment.

3.  It takes up more time.

Half the reason I go to the bathroom is to avoid doing work or being where I am supposed to be.  Waiting for a date? Bathroom break.  Bored at work? Bathroom break.  Awkward sex scene while watching a movie with my parents? ABSOLUTELY going to the bathroom.  Washing your hands adds a few more minutes on to that time frame where you can just escape the awk and enjoy the situation.

2.  To reaffirm my hatred for motion-sensored and push-button faucets.

Like, really, what the hell, world? You really think that humans over the age of five can’t be trusted to turn on and off a sink? Why are you deciding how much water I need?  My hands are dry and they lather soap rather aggressivley and I don’t think that your stupid push-button faucet allows enough moisture to really get all the suds off and complete the task. LET ME DO IT MYSELF.

1.  Because I’m scared if I don’t someone will ask to smell my hands after I leave and will know that I didn’t wash them and then I will be forever branded as a nomad or social pariah who doesn’t adhere to any sort of societal norm or personal hygienic regimen. 

This is a very real fear that eats away at me every day.  Whenever I think I can escape the bathroom without washing my hands I think of a scenario where someone immediately comes and smells my palms after leaving and I am found out for how disgusting and gross I am.  That fear outweighs the one of germs and other disgusting things that will happen to me when I didn’t wash them because I was just supposed to do so.


Why do YOU wash your hands after the bathroom?

Annual Oscar live tweet extravaganza where I mostly talk about how much I dislike Kristen Stewart and fake date Leo DiCaps.

Award show season!  Thank you for giving me the momentous excuse opportunity to pollute the twittersphere and subsequently the rest of the social media universe with all of my thoughts and feelings on the Oscars.

both of us are empty inside.

both of us are empty inside

I’ll be here all night, unfortunately.

Drink a bottle of your favorite, cheapest wine, and take a seat right in front of your television AND computer and hop on the train to funtown.  We’re gonna tweet up a storm, and you’re going to need a raincoat.  Or an umbrella.  Or some galoshes.  Or just a roof.

Follow me on social media outlets around the world so you can hear the latest, greatest, and my strong opinion on Kristen Stewart. (Hint: It’s not a favorable one.)

 


I also need new people to follow, so if you let me know you’re alive out there in the twitterverse, I’ll follow you back and we can talk shit about all the people who thought fur cufflinks are totally in style (what losers, right?!)

The Unwritten Rules Of Being In A Relationship

The conditions under which my boyfriend and I moved in together were simple.  Cheaper rent, reduced travel, and ultimately, he would be the human barrier that would save me if anything remotely dangerous happened in the dead of the night.

Around 3:30 am last night, a fire drill went off in the midst of my deepest slumbers.  Unbeknownst to me, the jackasses who live on the floor above us engaged in a little snow storm marijuana toking session, and basically masked the entire top floor with a cloud of smoke.

The roommate looks at me after hearing how obnoxiously loud the fire alarm is and says, “Close the bedroom door.”

To which I replied, “Uhh, no, I think we need to evacuate.”

After frantically throwing on as many blizzard fighting layers of clothing and waiting outside for around twenty minutes, we were allowed back in the building.  But only now have I realized that my roommate was not delivering on one of the main promises made when we decided to cohabitate.  Something remotely dangerous happened in the middle of the night, and he was not being a good human barrier.

(I realize this is all based upon waking up mid-slumber, and under different circumstances, he probably would have had a clearer head.)

Which brings me to my next point.  Along with safety and security, there are certain unwritten rules that boyfriends have to follow.

All gender roles, feminism, sexism, and all that other politically correct mumbo jumbo aside, of course. I see you, strong, independent women who don’t need no man to feel worthy. #Respect

Here are the unwritten rules you need to follow in order to be a successful boyfriend/good human:

Hold my things: When you decide you are going to date a girl, you unofficially sign up to hold all her belongings when she doesn’t want to carry a purse.  Credit card, money, and ID will now go in your wallet and her keys in your pockets, because her outfit is way more important without a bulky bag, and you have like forty-six places to hold things anyways.

Let me wear your stuff: Clothes are always more comfortable when they’re not yours.  Sweatshirts that are four sizes too big definitely seem to fit better, and men’s sweatpants are what dreams are made of.  And hats.  Always hats.

Don’t get mad when I eat your food: I know this is like, totally, illegal in like fifteen countries, and frowned upon everywhere else, but if I want a bite of your food, you need to give it to me.  I know I ordered what I wanted, and you ordered what you wanted, but that’s why we didn’t order the same thing and I’d rather not have FOMO.

Listen to my stories: Everyone in the history of earth knows that women are horrendous story tellers.  But you’re going to have to listen to every single one of them.  The office drama, that kid on the subway, the one about how long the line was at Forever 21 on New Year’s Eve. They’re going to suck, they’re not going to be funny, and they probably won’t make sense.  And I’m sorry I’m not sorry for that.

Give me directions: I think I speak solely for myself with this one, but I’m going to generalize to everyone anyways.  You need to be prepared to tell me where I’m going and give me proper notice of when I’m supposed to turn left, right, etc.  Google maps can steer me wrong, you can’t.

Make good choices under pressure: Like, you know, if there’s a fire drill in the middle of the night.  You should tell me to get my shit together and haul ass down the stairs instead of just ignoring it and trying to fall back asleep.  It’s these life or death situations that make or break a relationship. Mostly because if we burned alive no one would be in the relationship anymore, because we’d both be dead.

Crack my back: What’s the point of having someone double your weight that can lift you up, crack your back, and realign your spine with one strong, upward grab? That’s not a trick question. There’s actually no other point than to have them lift you up, crack your back, and realign your spine with one, strong upward grab.


What are some unwritten rules you can think of?

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Things You Say To Your Significant Other That Make You Realize You’re Way Too Comfortable

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Amen.

I think the best part about dating someone is the moment you realize you’re totally comfortable in front of them.

Or when your only job on your day off is to make a pizza before he comes home from a long day at work, but you burn it within minutes of him walking through the door because you’re trying to defend yourself from an online bullying episode, but it’s okay because he loves you, yet is still really mad at you, and will huff and puff his way over to CVS to buy a new one to make himself.

Seriously, don’t underestimate the importance of a pizza after a long day of work, especially for the male species.  Cheese, sauce, bread, and the occasional topping is a diabolical combination that can pretty much cure anything from a bad day at work to civil unrest.

Anyways, the point of this is, you reach a time in your relationship where you become really comfortable with the other person; like, really, really, comfortable. This is so good. But this is also where the lines between appropriate and completely outrageous when taken out of context are also very, very blurry.

I have realized that I am  now in that very blurry, shadowy, gray area in my relationship where I don’t know if I should be concerned about the nature of my conversations, or if I just embrace it and fully accept that I’m so weird and another person has chosen to keep me around regardless.

I have also realized that I’m not that weird, because some of my friends have also confirmed that they’re too comfortable in their relationships, which is evident because of some of the things that they’ve revealed to me, in confidence, that they say within the privacy of their own homes.

But privacy is stupid and completely overrated; plus, it’s 2015 and everyone knows everyone’s business, so I’m going to post them on the internet.

Here are some things you might say that make you realize you’re way too comfortable with your significant other. If it sounds normal, it’s probably not.

“We can’t do that tonight, I have plans with my other girlfriend.”

(Note: If he really does have another girlfriend, you should probably be concerned he’s so open about it.)

“BOOBS.”

“Can I pluck that hair? Please.”

“Your mustache is coming in nicely.”

“Why is your face like that?”

“That shirt makes you look like you work at a barber shop. Can you cut my hair?”

“My favorite time to hang out with you is in the morning when you’re asleep and don’t speak.”

“It’s funny to see how your boobs handle gravity.”

“Do you own anything other than a red bathrobe?”

“You look like a waitress from Outback.”

“BUTTCHEEKS.”

“When was the last time you shaved?”

“Are you wearing your fat pants?”

“Okay, I’m going to fart in the closet.”

“I can grow more facial hair than you.”

“What inspired you to buy that shirt?”

“Your boobs are uneven.”

“You have beefy arms.”

“Why are your pants up so high?”

“Did you poop today?”

“We can’t have sex, you smell so bad.”

“Your breath smells like someone died inside of your mouth.”

“Don’t have coffee, you’re going to poopoo all over the house.”

“NIPPLES.”


Do you and your significant other get a little too weird? Let me know what you say in the comments!

The Completely True Story of Christmas

It’s time we start investigating what actually happened on December 25th.

If you don’t know the story of Christmas, you can read about it here. Oh, and welcome to the twenty-first century, by the way, how was living under that rock for the past… forever?

Reflecting on all the things we do to get ready for the holidays, I couldn’t help but realize how most of it is kinda… weird.  It got me thinking about how it all started.  Thus, I present to you:

How Christmas Probably Happened. But Actually Probably Not Really. 

 

Many moons ago, this kid was born. And he was born in like, kinda not a normal way, because he just appeared in this lady, Mary’s belly.  She was married to this really chill dude named Joe, and I guess they had an extra bedroom and no idea what to use it for, so naturally, a baby will solve that problem!

But Baby Jeezy wasn’t an ordinary baby. Because that would be silly.  Seeing as he just kinda picked Mary to be his mom, he can’t possibly be a normal kid, he has to AT LEAST amount to being a moonlighting superhero.

This kid, Jeezy, turned out to be puh-ritty special.  So they decided that his birthday was going to be a holiday, and celebrated worldwide.

Side note: My parents obviously didn’t anticipate my greatness or else there would be a holiday on June 2.  Still working on it.

Joe and Mary decided the best way to commemorate the birth of their phantom son, Jeezy, was to bring plants inside and decorate them. Joe got his favorite axe and hand saw, marched outside and picked the best looking tree on the property, and cut that sucka down.

He brought it inside, stood it up next to the fireplace; proud of his work.  Mary got all concerned that it looked out of place, so she did what anyone else would do with a tree inside their house; she decorated the hell out of it. Even put a star on top to remind herself everyday how good of a job she did.

Sitting on their living room couch amid a roaring fire – Mary, obviously having a wine, Joe, probably chilling out with a nice Budweiser – they agreed to transcribe the Constitution of Christmas AKA Santa’s Laws.

 

1. Every year people have to bring a tree inside and decorate it.

It’s a little known fact that if you cut a tree down and take it out of it’s element you end up with a sad evergreen on your hands.  No one likes sad trees, so by making it look like it was sprayed with the contents of a craft store, even the saddest trees get time to shine.

2.  All gifts must be stored under the tree.

Protect and serve the presents. Protect and serve the people.  It’s the tree’s motto. It’s the tree’s job.

3.  There will be an old man responsible for delivering all the presents.  

He will travel by sleigh.  With not eight, but nine reindeer. One will have a red nose.  ONLY ONE.

4.  His name will be Santa.

He will live in a far away land, working with really, really, short/small people to make toys all year round. He will wear only red.  He will be solely responsible for keeping the color relevant.

5.  He will have a list.

This is the master of all lists.  This list keeps track of the good people and the bad people.  If you’re good, you get toys.  If you’re bad, you get…. coal!  No one likes coal, except miners and barbecues.  So if you’re a miner who barbecues, you may as well start acting like a horrible person on December 26. You’ll be grillin’ steaks for DAYS with all the fire fuel you’ll receive.

6.  Santa will not break and enter. 

Santa doesn’t break the laws.  You can’t have Father Christmas picking front door locks, or breaking living room windows.  That’s risky stuff. Bad Christmas PR.  By process of elimination, the chimney is the only other way in, so, sorry bro.  Hope your suit is fire-proof.

Christmas is also the one day of the year where it would not be weird to wake up in the middle of the night and find an old man dressed in a red bathrobe/sweatsuit come out of your chimney and start arranging presents under a tree in your living room.

7.  His reindeer eat carrots. He eats cookies. 

Automatic coal delivery to people who forget the milk.  Same with people who give store bought cookies.  Santa’s bionic nose knows a processed chocolate chip from a home made delight. And he doesn’t reward procrastination.

8. There will be sweaters.  They will be ugly.

What better way to say, “Happy Birthday!” than with a knit sweater picturing an overweight man in a red suit riding on a sleigh with flying deer? The short and long answer is: There is not a better way to say Happy Birthday than with a knit sweater picturing an overweight man in a red suit riding on a sleigh with flying deer. Period.

They sat back, happy with their creation, and passed down the tradition at each family gathering, and it has become Christmas as we know it.

***

What are your favorite holiday traditions?

Sweet Potato Fries Are Ruining My Relationship

If there’s one way to lose a man’s trust, it’s to be completely full of shit when you rate meals on a 1-10 scale. They take food very seriously.

I irresponsibly rated sweet potato fries an 8/10 on my first date with my boyfriend and it became a permanent stain on our relationship.  He claims he can’t trust me, that he doesn’t really know who I am or what I’m thinking.

I should have just gone with the onion rings.

What I learned from falsely embellishing the deliciousness of my side dish is that there are certain things you need to ask on the first date to make sure if this is someone you can be with long term.  I mistakenly judged the importance of food ratings and I have not been able to live it down since.

In order for you to avoid being plagued with ridicule when it comes to food for the remainder of your relationship and inevitably creating a rocky and unstable trust between you and your partner, I’ve compiled a list of questions you MUST ask on the first date to avoid irreparable damage later on.

Here are the questions you NEED to ask on a first date to determine if this is someone you can be with for a long time:

 

What kind of sports fan are you? For the most part, this question applies to the male species, but I’ll include those diehard females who rep it hard in the sports department. Knowing what kind of sports fan your partner is will be crucial for the rest of your relationship. Most men like a sport for each of the seasons, so you’re going to need to know if he’s going to lock you out of your apartment or rip a couch cushion if Dwyane Wade doesn’t hit 3 points or that guy in the NFL doesn’t get 1824396 carries and 2734061 yards in a random game that doesn’t really matter (It totally matters though, somehow).

What is your position on Christmas music? If you are one of those girls who starts playing Christmas music on December 26th to prepare for the next holiday season, you’re going to need to let your partner know that ahead of time.  Even if you’re a semi-normal human being who starts playing tasteful holiday tunes after Thanksgiving, you should respect the other person’s ears enough to let them know they should invest in earplugs for the next month and a half.

What do you rate Jennifer Aniston on a scale of 1-10?  This question can be tweaked based on the celebrity of your choosing, but Jenny Anz is a pretty well known celebrity that both men and women like. Once you’ve asked the question and both given answers, if your number differentiate by more than 2 points on a 1-10 scale, you may be in disagreement with what the 1-10 scale is.  This is not okay and will set a precedent for the future of rating questions.  You must find an agreeable medium and set forth a list of qualifications pertaining to each number on the scale. This is the only way you will be able to take each other’s opinions seriously when you ask questions like, “On a scale of 1-10 how good are these sweet potato fries?”

Are you able to commit to tacky/trendy/seasonal activities knowing full well it will interrupt your weekend/sports/day off plans? This applies mainly to women, but maybe some instances men will get the seasonal feels and want to go skate on a pond or chop down a tree for good measure.  If you’re not ready to commit to losing a couple hours on a Sunday to grab some apples off a tree or carve a smiley face on an orange gourd, you should just throw in the towel right now.

What are your thoughts on animals? Listen, I get it, some people don’t like animals. Whether it be an allergy, a bad experience, or just not being human, you need to find out if your lifelong dream of owning a farm of Great Danes is never going to come to fruition because you’re getting involved with the future bane of your existence.

Which side of the bed do you sleep on? There is nothing worse than having your first adult sleepover and both jumping in on the left side. Not only will it create an awkward rift when you lose because your boyfriend outweighs you by 100 lbs, it will most likely not work because sleeping is real life and you need that more than you need love. #HarshReality

Obviously, I encourage you to ask those awkward questions about wanting a family, politics, and religion, but if you want to get to the stuff that actually matters, take my advice.

Or don’t. I steered my boyfriend wrong when I rated the sweet potato fries, so I could be making things up entirely out of thin air.


What are the important questions you ask on a first date?

I’m Thankful For The Facebook Timeline Feature Because Now I Can Relive My Glory Days With The Click Of A Button.

Everyone!  Let’s give a round of applause for technology and the permanent trail of embarrassment that is the internet!

Just when you think you’ve escaped the metaphorical black hole that was your life in middle and high school, Facebook is here with the Timeline Activity feature that allows you to click a year and see just what you wrote during that specific time period.  Let’s bring back those cringeworthy flirt posts, relive that awkward drunk message you wrote to that kid you don’t even know, and by all means, take a loosky at that time you thought it was a good idea to wear plaid pants and high top sneakers.

I like to put my life on display.  Mostly because I think that if I admit to myself and the world how much of an embarassment to society I was between the ages of my entire life 12-22, maybe I can help others not make the same mistakes.

So, today I am thankful for Facebook.  I am so excited that I get a permanent reminder of how much of a jackass I was when I was sixteen and constantly get to see my blatant disregard for proper capitalization and grammar.  I guess hindsight is twenty/twenty.

Here are some highlights from my Facebook past:

0

Zo zerious, in fact, that I couldn’t even use an ‘S’

1

Halfway convinced that my mother actually wrote this status instead of me.  But then I remember that she can barely work Microsoft Word in 2014, so there’s no way she could have hacked into my Facebook account back in 2006.

2

I never got a humpback whale. WHERE IS MY HUMPBACK WHALE.

3

#FutureEnglishMajor #FutureTeacher

4

Well, there you have it folks, you can finally tell people you know someone who has risen from the dead. I’m pretty sure it sucked when I was dead, but I can assure you, being alive is way more fun.

5

So, I’m not half asian. Not even in the slightest bit. So I don’t think I can regret it, but clearly it was something I felt strongly about this night.

6

Honestly, this is a personal problem and I’m getting it checked out.  I didn’t realize I was so willy nilly about exposing personal struggles via such a public forum, but I guess a lot was going on in life in 2008.

7

Like I said, clearly a lot was going on in my life where I wasn’t concerned about being implicated for the murder of my professor.  Like how shitty of a criminal am I?

Sidenote: I didn’t actually murder my professor, but he’s definitely not here to talk about it anymore.

8

This is a brilliant idea and I don’t know why I haven’t rethought of this.  Probably because I came to the conclusion that bathtubs are generally riddled with the remnants of dirty people, therefor, I realized I was washing my clothes in liquid human filth. #graphic #visuals

9

This is what I was concerned about when I studied abroad.  This is also why I gained twenty-five pounds before I came back.

10

Valid. They were. And I legit never got them back.

Hey! Let’s be social and make bad decisions together, follow me on Facebook, and I’ll do the same for you.  LOVE YOU. MEAN IT.

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Have you ever posted anything on the internet you later regretted?  What’s your best/most embarrassing post?