This is how you get dates you guys. You really have to sell it. Also, make your icon an eagle for extra cool points.
*The date is with my heterosexual female roommate.
Category: eating
I have the most lovely community of men and women as friends. It’s actually insane how many bad ass people are in my life. Sometimes I think about it too much and I start crying my lil eyes out in awe of the sheer luck & fortune I have to know these people. Shit.
But it’s easy to be a hater, man, I get it. It’s so easy to take one look at Insta and be like “oh man, look at this bitch, she has a picture of a smoothie, and then her next three photos are of the beach, a workout selfie, and her pure-bred dog. Fuckkkkk her.” I don’t remember where I found this quote, but I said, “Comparison is the thief of joy.” What if instead of feeling miserable about someone’s health journey, because you’re five breadsticks and a bottle of wine down, you celebrate that someone out there is living the life they want. (If you want to hear more about my opinions on this, check out my previous blog “All the Small Things.”)
It’s a crazy concept, but think about it this way: I now have a few good friends that I was super envious of because they were wicked pretty, super motivated and seemed to be kicking the world right in the crotch. So I didn’t talk to them, I just stalked them on Facebook and followed their posts and was like, “They are so cool. I wish I could be cool….and fuck they just went to Italy. The closest I’ll get to Italy is this bowl of god damn frozen raviolis.”
But if you stop doing that comparison shit, and realize that everyone is a real person with struggles and goals, you can open yourself up to the same opportunities just by reaching out and saying, “Hey, I like Harry Potter, you like Harry Potter, let’s hang out and kill at bottle of merlot.” What’s the worst that can happen? I also literally made a friend with that tag line, so feel free to steal it.
How To Make Friends (Quarter-Life Crisis Edition):
1) Find Common Ground.
- “You like trashy tv shows? Oh shit, did you see the last episode of Dance Moms?! So. Much. Drama.”
- “Hey, do you hate this job, because I sure do! What parts about it do you hate the most? Would you like to discuss this over some alcohol?”
- “Hey there, I see that you have a dog. I loveeeeeee dogs. What is your dogs name? How old is he? Where did you get him? Did you get him when he was a puppy? Does he get along well with other dogs? Can I pet him? Oh shit, I’m already petting him. I got too excited I forgot to ask permission. He seems very friendly.”
2) No One Hates Being Complimented.
- Imagine this, your new coworker shows up wearing an outfit that looks like it is straight out of an Anthopologie window display. You say, “I love that jumper! Where did you get it?” She looks you right in the eye, flips you the bird, and walks back to her desk in silence.
- If that actually happens you should try even harder to be friends with this person, because they just won the Hard-as-Fuck Award, and it’s always good to have a sassy lil’ raincloud in your wolf pack to mix things up a bit. Take April Ludgate for example.
3) Don’t be an Asshole.
- Trust me on this one. This means don’t talk shit about other people just to get on someone’s good side. Take it from someone who worked in the salon industry for 5 years. That shit will always come back to bite you in the ass.
- Besides being able to open your own juice box now, things haven’t changed much since elementary school. Someone who hates someone today, might end up having a change of heart and loving them tomorrow, and THEY WILL tell them all the shit you said about them.
- Treat people with common courtesy. Try and give notice if you need to cancel plans. If you aren’t feeling up to a night on the town, explain why and try to set something up for another time. Communicating with people = good. Ignoring texts and blowing people off = Asshole with a capital H.
As my beautiful improv coach fairy once said, “You have to be vulnerable in order to allow yourself to have authentic relationships. It’s one of the scariest and easiest things to do, but it’s so important.”
So, my magestic sea lions, go out into the wide ocean of friendship and swim around. Don’t let comparison be the thief of your joy. Be open to new experiences. And above all, love yourself and DON’T BE AN ASSHOLE.
XOXO,
The Weekday Hangover
Summer is my favorite time of year. I will fight to the death against the shit attitudes of every pale North American who wish the frigid cold of winter upon us as soon as it gets over 70 degrees. I get it, it’s hot, but have they never felt next-day rug rash from a drunken slip and slide session? Have they never assaulted an ice-cream man for not stopping long enough on their street? These are some of the blissful memories that can only happen during the magical months of July and August. Here are the reasons why I love Summer:
1) Boys in Jorts.
I’m infatuated with everyone right now. Something about the warm weather reminds me of dating boys and them being adorable, and going on beach trips and shit. My hormones are unstoppable this time of year. I had to tell my roommate to stop wearing her Old Spice deodorant because it makes me too aroused and I keep objectifying the cute guy down the street, who is affectionately known as “the guy with the broken leg and the dog.” He has nice jorts and I’m seriously considering asking him out as soon as he can walk again.
2) BBQ food.
Summer is the one time of year you can eat a hotdog and a cheeseburger in the same day and not be judged for it. Also, every salad at a BBQ has mayonnaise in it, and I am 100% down to fuck with that. So here’s what you do: Get a “dollop” (or you know, however you want to portion, you’re an adult) of potato salad, macaroni salad, and egg salad. If you are one of those freaks who doesn’t like their food to touch each other you are not going to like what I’m about to say. I suggest cramming as much of literally everything (especially if you just showed up and not hosting, because free food tastes better) as you can on the plate. No room for utensils? Good! Utensils are for chumps. Use your Lay’s chips as mayo-salad shovels because this is America, land of the free.
3) It’s My Birthday
Birthdays are the one holiday where you can get gifts, and not have to give anyone else gifts. Yes, I am turning 25 and yes, I still expect presents. If you don’t know what to get me just check my Amazon wish list, because there is nothing more satisfying than looking at shit you could never afford or justify buying for yourself and then unashamedly putting the link on Facebook and emailing it out to all your relatives.
Birthdays, like BBQ’s are another excuse to eat like shit and drink forever. I’m not really one for sweets, but a dear friend of mine promised me a white bread Bologna sandwich with yellow mustard as an homage to a cake. I’ll probably have to get a cake anyway though because if people show up to a birthday party and there is no cake, American culture will shit its pants and Paula Dean will start sending me racist hate mail.
Birthdays are also an excuse to be kind of a dick. Example A) I ate your fries and drank all your beer while you were in the bathroom because it’s my birthday. Example B) I made out with your brother because it’s my birthday. Example C) I drank everything and made out with everyone, because I’m old now and I hate everything….and it’s my birthday. Do. Your. Worst.
4) Nature is happy.
Usually when it’s Spring, winter or fall,the Northwest looks like one big, gray, drizzly shit hole. We Portlanders put up with soggy bike rides and Vitamin D deficiency so that when June rolls around we can take our dogs out to roll around in the grass that is green as fuck and swim in lakes and do other social outdoor activities.
The moral of today’s blog is to not let the haters get you down, or better yet, hate on your haters harder
Again, people who don’t like Summer are most-likely processed-meat circle hating, anti spiked lemonade, non bare-thigh sporting freak shows. . So enjoy your A/C, and your GOT reruns losers, I’ll be getting basic-bitch wasted on sangria, harassing ice-cream men, and hiking off my mayo weight.
I was raised by a 35 – 45 year old male stoner so the five second rule is very lax for me. If a macaroni noodle falls on a bar table. It’s fair game. It doesn’t even have to be my noodle.
Does the five second rule apply to birth control pills? I always drop mine on the floor but can find them very quickly. I feel like that is my drunk super power. Some people can make it to the bathroom in time to throw up, others can hail a taxi like nobody’s business. Myself, I can always find a birth control pill on the floor and manage to get it into my mouth.
I don’t really understand germs. You can’t see them, so therefore I just live my life pretending this don’t exist. Like ghosts, the suffering of the masses and my repressed memories from childhood. If you can’t see it, it’s probably nothing to be worried about.
If I pick something off the ground and it has a hair on it of course I’ll throw it away. I’m not an animal. Unless of course the hair can be easily picked off, then it’s kosher.
I have a lot of fears: never getting married, waking up with a giant tattoo I don’t remember getting, being eating alive by a large animal, you know normal shit. I just don’t think I have the capacity or understanding to add bacteria to that list. Plus I think there are some benefits to being a little bit, well let’s use the word “dirty.”
1) I get sick less often because I’m building an immunity to bus people germs, bar germs and all the other germs out there. Bird flu? I would let a bird eat out of my hand then eat the rest of the food in my hand. Boosh. Bird flu avoided.
2) I don’t waste food. Half a granola bar fell out of my pocket? That’s my breakfast homie, what do you think I’m made of money? Pick that shit up and eat it. Think thin bars are like $2 each.
So, I can only think of two benefits right now. I might come up with more after a few glasses of wine but I think I have established a pretty solid argument. So rejoice in the 5-second rule and don’t be afraid to cross contaminate. It grows hair on your chest, or whatever.
I touched on my feelings with food briefly during my post on getting older and dying, but I feel like I have a little more to say in regards to eating, food, and my love/hate relationship with it.
Let’s call this what it really is. A cry for help:
Why the food pyramid isn’t working for me:
1. I have the palette of a 90’s pre-teen. My favorite foods include: Bologna (BAH-LOH-KNEE) sandwiches with yellow mustard, Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, and ham and cheese Hot Pockets. I basically had to put myself through a 12 step program just to quit Pizza Lunchables, which I am proud to admit I am one year clean from.
2. I think beets taste like dirt and kale tastes like butt. I’m not saying this to be be mean, I really feel this way, and am sometimes scared to admit it. Everyone in Portland lovvvveeees beets and kale. I’m hoping something slightly more appealing like iceberg lettuce with ranch or a modest potato will become the new “superfood” but with my luck it will probably be turnips or some other avant-garde horse shit.
3. I actually follow the rule of no carbs after 7 p.m., but that is because most weeknights I have wine for dinner.
4. The entire staff at Bowery bagels knows me by first name and they know that I always get a salt bagel with bacon cream cheese. I can’t go two work days in a row without one. It’s Wednesday and I already miss them so much.
5. The Dominos guy can tell when my roommate has gotten a haircut….That’s how often we see him.
5. I don’t understand what Paleo is.
6. I’m not a vegetarian, I’m just too scared to cook meat. Well, any meat that isn’t an easy meat.
Easy Meat. DEF: Chicken is a hard meat to cook. Chicken sausage however, is an easy meat because you just cut it into circles and the rest is up to god (or the deity of your choice.)
I also can’t really cook non-meats. I can never tell when Soyrizo is done, because it’s already cooked but it specifies you have to cook it to a certain degree to eat it. Asking me to take the temperature of a food before putting it in my mouth is like asking me to floss my teeth before going to the dentist. I don’t see the point and I’m never going to do it.
7. If It only cost $1.99, in my mind it’s completely safe and you should totally eat it. I survived an entire summer eating nothing but bowtie noodles with frozen peas and cans of french-cut green beans. If you can feed yourself for two days on less than $5, you may be getting progressively fatter and slower, but you’re winning at something.
I need some serious guidance or hypnosis to get me away from processed cheese singles and toaster pastries, but if loving cheesy stuffed breadsticks, mayonnaise and tiny microwavable pizzas is wrong, do I really want to be right?
milky feelings 