Back In Session

Ahhh summer break - was it as good for you as it was for me? Wait, what's that? You thought we had just forgotten about the blog, so busy were we with the many small pleasures and annoyances of our everyday lives? PISH POSH! No, sillies, we simply thought we'd take a break from the blog to make up for the fact that as adults we don't get real summer breaks!

Not buying it, huh? Okay FINE. The truth is that we are apparently as bad at keeping up with the blog as I used to be at keeping up with a journal (read: v. v. bad). But we're back now, refreshed and ready to get to the adulthood sharing and sermonizing!

First order of business? Discussing the many adult things we did on our summer breaks! Me, well, I did a couple of things, the most "adult" being that I attended the weddings of two of my very best friends (shout out Meg and Allie!). Adding them to my friends Boris and Anna, this now makes four of my close friends who are hitched. WOAH.

Now, I'll admit, attending weddings isn't really "adult" per se. I mean, what with the "macarena"-ing, cake munching, and general open bar induced shenanigans, you could argue that wedding receptions are actually the opposite of adult.*

So, I'll give it to you, the receptions aren't adult. You know what part is adult? The VOWS. Yes, those things are serious. I'm not religious or sentimental at all and the vows still make me all misty and contemplative. That's a huge commitment wrapped up in those little words. Seriously. SO LARGE. Thinking about making that type of commitment makes me feel...adult. Bet you thought I was gonna say scared, right? Well you're wrong. I totally admire all of my friends that have made that commitment so far and I look forward to them giving me advice when it comes my turn to make the leap...as long as they give the advice BEFORE hitting the open bar.

So...what adult things did you all do this summer? And SERIOUSLY, OMG, HOW EXCITED ARE YOU FOR FOOTBALL?!!!!!!!

They (don't) know too much.

I'm talking about old friends, and when it's time to call it quits. For some close to me, they know that a few years ago, I embarked on writing a book all about this subject. It's a fact, I am a big fan of breaking up with friends that suck.

I had a brief reminder of the characters in this book a few days ago when I learned that a few of my old college compadres and I would be frequenting the same Independence Day destination. Initially, I thought this will be great time to show them how great I'm doing in life and how sexy my boyfriend is. Until I remembered that we had an extremely anticlimactic falling out, followed by an even less remarkable (if possible) attempt at reconciliation. The whole thing was just lame. Not dramatic enough to be exciting, but just annoying enough to be...annoying.

This got me thinking about the initial encounter we might have given the (very high) chance that we bump into each other outside Fat Tuesdays. Do we hug? Pretend that we don't secretly wish each other gets fat? I'm not sure if it's become so apparent just yet, but "fake" isn't a good color on me. I actually wasted an inordinate amount time thinking about this run-in, and if it would come to fruition before realizing...wait a second...do I really care?

I've devised a very simple test as to whether or not you should continue a friendship with someone based on this simple equation. If he/she has missed 3 or more significant milestones in your life, or on the converse, you've missed more than 3 in his/hers...let's just face it...you're not friends.

After a quick count (how hard is it to count to 3?) I realized that there have been 5 major milestones since 2008 in my life.

1. Dad passed away.
2. Move to New York City
3. Move back to Florida
4. Move in with boyfriend (uh..yeah...that is a big deal)
5. Start a business

At that point, there is just too much you don't know about me to be my friend. Now of course, this doesn't apply to strangers or as the more optimistic refer to them "friends that we haven't met yet." They get a fresh slate. But people that call themselves "friends" well that term comes with a certain level of responsibility, pal. And vice versa, if you got married, and I've never met the guy, or know his name...yeah we're not friends.

I read a quote from the Tipping Point today and it said that the maximum number of people that we are physically capable of having a genuine relationship with is 150. I have 831 Facebook friends. Something is wrong with this picture.

So part of my growing up experience this year is to realize who my real friends are, and start putting more energy into those relationships...all the while balancing a career that encourages me to schmooze and blow smoke up people's ass on the regular. Awesome.

The plan is, there is no plan.

Typically, I am avid planner. Almost to a fault. (Probably definitely to a fault.) But I've learned a valuable lesson recently, and that is you can't always plan for life. Sure you can calculate risk, asses situations, and make good decisions, but sometimes your plans just end up getting shot to hell.

Like our blog. We actually had a weekend planning session detailing the rubric we would follow to ensure success in our "growing older and wiser in 365 days" idea. Clearly, we haven't stuck to that plan, and after a brief conversation with Wendy last night (between her grueling work hours and incredibly demanding television schedule), we're okay with that. And the reason we're okay with that is because day to day life provides us enough material to write about that is enriching and entertaining enough to still be considered a worthwhile study of the art of becoming an adult.

So there it is, the plan is...there is no plan. Enjoy our random posts in no particular order from this day forth.

Are you a Hoarder? Because I don't want to be with a hoarder.

This is the statement my boyfriend made not two days ago, while looking me expressionless, straight in the face. Without knowing if it was completely accurately, I answered, "Nooo" accompanied by a "How dare you make that accusation face."

The reason he asked might have something to do with these...

So while Wendy has the problem of not having enough "stuff," I suffer from the opposite affliction. Sure it started innocently enough, man-friend and I decided that we might try our hand at refinishing chairs and then turning a profit by selling them on Ebay or some very cool consignment store that appreciates Crafty-Cathy home-made looking one-of-a-kind chairs. (Probably the same type of place that carries the elusive kindergarten quality macaroni necklace.) Turns out that we refinished 1, (front left), only to find out that in it's original state, that specific brand of chair sells for $300 on Ebay. In it's quasi Lily Pulitzer want to be state, it is worth about $20 (to my mom).

Now, I can't seem to drive by a yard sale or garbage heap without glancing expectantly at the concealed treasures. And all I can think about is getting a larger place to hold more and more stuff. Just imagine the projects we could dream up (but not actually ever follow through with) if we had an actual studio or...gasp...wood shop.

I'm like a Confessions of A Shop-A-Holic protagonist. I find an inexpensive hobby that catches my attention, buy all of the expensive necessities to make the hobby happen, then lose interest within a week. Good thing my interest this time was a chair, and not a puppy...although I did go to the Humane Society yesterday...

In conclusion, my advice to Wendy is to compromise on the furniture. Buy something nice, and finance it. Hell, I haven't paid a dime for my couches yet and I've been straight chillin' for 6 months. (Gotta love those no payment deals.) More times than not, your cool vintage, thrift store find ends up right back at the thrift store. And sometimes they smell like kitty litter.

And IKEA's not so bad (as long as you don't buy the 7.99 end table), I am staring at my TV Stand and bookshelves right now in the signature black-brown Lack, and I feel very, very chic.

Minimalism is so hot right now.

"I Totally Meant to Call, It's Just, That I've Been SOOO Busy"

On behalf of both Tink and myself I want to start this blog post by apologizing for being "that guy." You know the guy that I mean: he comes on all hot and heavy, taking you out for drinks at sexy little nightspots, regaling you with witty stories, and generally just getting all up inside your head. And then he disappears, leaving you alone with your " poor me" oreos wondering what went wrong. Those guys suck and we are truly sorry for being like them. That being said, we're back! So put down the oreos and read on....

Right now, I'm writing this from my CAVERNOUS apartment. Before you get all jealous about my square footage, know that my apartment is really not that big. I mean, by New York City standards, it's the freaking Taj Mahal. By every other city in the world's standards? Pretty average. And still...it feels cavernous. Why? Well, because aside from a pretty nice bedroom set, a love seat, and a chaise (yes, its frenchy, look it up), I have NO furniture. I've lived in Atlanta for going on seven months now, yet I have no coffee table, no kitchen table, no desk, no lamps, no random console for storing my mail and old magazines, no chairs, no bookcases, NADA. Seriously, I could full on tumble in my living room. While the retired cheerleader in me loves that, the adult in me is crying out for a goddamn table!

The problem is that I'm kind of paralyzed by the thought of buying furniture. It just seems like such a big undertaking. Here are the questions I'm grappling with:

1) Do I go cheap? I could go cheap, but then I risk regretting it in two years when I have to go out and get yet another coffee table. Going (too) cheap just feels like saving a little now to pay more later. Plus super cheap furniture just looks so....cheap. Fine, Ikea stuff is sometimes so cool and euro looking that it escapes looking cheap. Still, I have a different issue with Ikea, namely, that EVERYONE our age outfits their apartment in Ikea and so we all look like lemmings....cool, euro lemmings, but still.

2) Do I go expensive? Ideally, I'd like to get nice furniture. However, I cant afford to put out all of the cash to get nice stuff right now and the thought of taking on more monthly payments makes me want to curl up in a ball and cry for my mommy.

3) Do I scour vintage/antique stores? This is an excellent option....or it would be if I was at all adept at picking out cool vintage stuff. Tink is very good at this sort of thing. Me? Not so much. I can't tell if something vintage is cool unless: (a) someone tells me it is or (b) it is so obscenely expensive that it just HAS to be cool.

Ugh, even typing this out makes me tired. Any suggestions?? Please help! Unless, of course you want to come over to my gymnasium/living room for some tumble and dance time.

Cats and Dogs, Living Together

In one of her last posts, Tink described the various steps that twenty-something couples take on their way to becoming the married-with-kids, suburbia-dwelling, CBS-watching, soccer moms and dads that we think of as true "adult" couples. Let's recap these steps:

1) Meet the Parents

2) Move In Together

3) Get a Pet

4) Get Married

5) Have Kids

There are tons of little steps in between these (i.e. go on vacation together and both come back alive and in love), but from where I'm sitting, these are the BIG 5.

Well readers, I am finally joining Tink as a proud, card-carrying dweller of Step 2. Yes, that's right, the BF is moving in! Cohabitation - all the cool kids are doing it.

The cats and dogs living together title is actually very apt for this post. See, my boyfriend is very dog-like: attentive, loving, and active, yes, but also a little messy and prone to knocking over expensive tchotkes and losing his toys (i.e. his new Droid Incredible). I, on other hand, am very cat-like: neat, aloof, and as likely to be found sleeping as awake. Us cohabitating is not going to be boring, that's for sure!

I've been very lucky in my life to have some of the most amazing roommates that a girl could ever ask for. Sure we sometimes fought about dirty dishes, clothes-sharing, or forgetting to lock the door, but we always survived those fights and lived to watch another 6-hour marathon of One Tree Hill or The Challenge: Inferno 2.

I know that living with the boyfriend is going to have its challenges. He likes to watch CNN every night, while I go apeshit if I miss a second of the Bachelorette. He's a blanket thief. I never remember to fill the Brita. But I also know that like my other roommates and I did, me and the bf will get through the fights and live to have another night full of wine and snuggling...with him having all of the blankets, of course.

So, tell me readers: what were some unexpected challenges that you faced when cohabitating for the first time? What were some unexpected benefits?

Failure Notice

[An actual screenshot, from my actual email.]

We've probably all seen one of these pop up in our inbox before. A typo in an email address, or the address doesn't exist anymore, and you receive a friendly automated message.

Typically, the first words you see are MAILER DAEMON. First off, what is a "daemon," is that like a Demon named Damon? Some sort of hybrid? I don't appreciate the half-hearted spelling. And quite frankly, I don't get it.

Next, you see something like, "I'm afraid I wasn't able to deliver your message to the following addresses."

I just don't appreciate that kind of transient sympathy. I'm in my late twenties for Christ's sake, don't you think I question my success enough...now I have a blinking, midday reminder that I'm a failure. It's really no way to get the creativity flowing.

The next line: "This is a permanent error; I've given up. "

Great, you've given up. That was the last viable contact I had at HARPO Headquarters, and now what am I supposed to tell my client..."I've given up!"?

It takes you through all the stages of grief in a matter of moments. Then the sassy, albeit well-mannered automated email, concludes with a, "Sorry it didn't work out." You're sorry?

It's tough to be a grown up. That--we've all come to understand pretty quickly. But I think what's more difficult is to keep on being a grown up. To make the conscious choice to keep getting slapped around by the turns of fate everyday, and going back for more. To not become the guy on the couch at your friend's house, or the person that moves back in with your parents, or the girl who decides to become a cocktail waitress instead of working the 9-5.

One of the breakout stars of this project has been one of my guy friends who serendipitously provides me random sound bites about being an adult, and he dropped another totally unsolicited pearl of cynicism on me today. He said, "It's just the way the world works. Sucks, huh? I never thought it would be this way when I was younger. No wonder there are so many cynical assholes in the world." (This came from the same person that told me as we grow up, people only get together for weddings and funerals.)

I can't say I disagree. But that's not to say, I wouldn't go back for seconds or thirds in the buffet of life. (Sorry, Golden Corral is on my mind after driving around Orlando this weekend.) I guess I'd rather be told I'm a failure, then never try in the first place. And although this may be a permanent error, I have not given up.

I would ask for comments, but clearly...our efforts are futile. So I'll just say thanks to all the random people that do occasionally read our blog. And for those that do give a shit enough to comment, you'll be the ones with the walk on roles when it becomes a movie. Because it will. Fuck yeah.