Saturday, January 9, 2016

Things I don't understand:

-How do we have four? Yes, FOUR, different, opened, and partly consumed containers of BBQ sauce currently in our fridge.   Last time I checked, our back patio was not a Texas Smokehouse joint.

-The correct placement for punctuation when using emojis.

Is it:






Or:






Or:






And perhaps more importantly, why am I now using emojis?

-Why people take car selfies and why pseudo celebrities and pedestrians alike make car selfies their profile pictures on various social media platforms.

-Instagram husbands and why my husband is not one of them.  Doesn't he love me?

-Chard.  I mean, what the hell are you supposed to do with it?

-How millennials are everyone born from 1981-2000.  How can a child raised in the pre-internet dark ages, who learned things like the Dewy Decimal System and how to look things up in a library card catalog in school, be part of the same generation as someone who had a smart phone and was effectively cyberbullying with it before they could even qualify for a learner's permit?

-How is Otter an acceptable middle name for a non-puppet?  Or non-otters, for that matter.

-The appeal of the Bachelor/Bachelorette/Bachelor in Paradise.  Sorry ladies, I like my reality tv trashy, but not like this...

-Where the smell of rotting citrus in our kitchen is coming from.  Spoiler alert: it's probably from rotting citrus.

-I was talking to someone recently who had never even heard of Virginia Woolf and I tried to be gracious and explain but my brain was all like:


Does not compute.

-Award shows not hosted by Amy Poehler and Tina Fey.  Why even bother?

-Boston sports culture.  I've tried to fein interest but now I just pretend to go spontaneously deaf.  It's just my 19th century hysteria acting up.

-Muffins: they are just as many calories as cupcakes and not nearly as delicious.

-How everyone on the T has a bulging backpack that they refuse to take off only when it's crowded.

-How despite getting the jumbo size tubs of coffee from Trader Joe's, we are perpetually on the verge of running out.

-Why I keep eagerly buying books that I then don't read.

-Why people keep asking how many Polish people it takes to screw in a light bulb, when I'm just one and I seem to manage fine each time.  But I guess that's only anecdotal evidence.

-Why after so many colossal box office failures, Hollywood continues to green light movies made by M. Night Shyamalan.  How does that old adage on foolery go again?

-Why I don't own this mug. Or this one.

-Where all the girl scout cookies we bought 24 hours ago went.  Because we definitely didn't eat them all after skipping dinner, while we were drinking bourbon and playing the Sherlock Homles: Consulting Detective board game.  Who would even do that?

Saturday, January 2, 2016

2016

Salutations!  I greet you a humble, mucousy, champs-filled, newly showered for the first time in a few days, but otherwise relatively un-disastrous 31-year-old. 

My objectives for this year are as followed (in no particular order):

-Build up repertoire (patience) for hair doing, in order to successfully disguise cowlick and inconsistent natural wave. 

Sub-objective: convince everyone your hair styling is as effortless as the likes of Emma Stone, Emma Roberts, or any other well-coiffed Emma, despite the fact that you find yourself waking up early to ever so slightly curl your hair.

-Drink champs sparingly as it causes, by far, the worst hangovers of all time.  (Case is point: 12 hours from now.)  Drink bourbon and/or scotch as much as possible as that usually causes you to get sleepy and go to bed, and going to bed is always a great idea.

-Embrace the bitch.  Because it’s not really bitchiness, it’s having ideas and voicing opinions, both of which are almost always well reasoned and impactful and therefore important to share.  Spoiler alert: this may cause you to encounter a fair amount of jelly, in which case, just slather it on your morning English muffin.  Cause jelly is delicious.

-Wash your face every night because you’re starting to look like a handbag and it’s not cute.

-Come up with less superficial objectives.  Starting now.

-Continue your search for the perfect eyeliner.  It probably doesn’t exist…but it just might, so just keep trying.

-But more significant objectives, for reals this time…

-Keep a journal and just write whatever and whenever you feel like.  Try not to think about Joan Didion’s “On Keeping a Notebook” when you’re keeping your notebook because the genius of that essay will probably paralyze you.

-Pick the self-editing padlock of your creativity shed and let all that dead thought foliage come cascading out of it, untempered.  Sure, it'll mostly be unusable crap, but you might just find those nice gardening gloves that you lost a while back.

-Write more in yardwork metaphors.  They’re pretty solid.

-Don’t feel bad about still feeling sad from time to time, even though it’s been over a year and most people seem to think you should be over it by now.

-In fact, stop feeling guilty all together.  About everything.  You should be saving that up so that you can effectively channel it once you start producing humans.

-Don’t stress about producing humans.  You’ll get to that eventually.

-Consider joining a club to make new friends.

-Nope.  That sounds awful.  Don’t do that.  Just embrace friendlessness.

-Maybe read a book other than Harry Potter this year.

-Dust a little bit more because your lack of dusting is a little ridiculous, just ask the fluffle of dust bunnies in the right corner of your living room.

-Consolidate your objectives: cook delicious food, drink delicious drinks, read good books, write things that are and aren’t terrible, exercise enough to feel good and keep your stomach sort of flat-ish, shop only when you need something (which, duh, is all the time), spend time with the people you love, spend energy on the people you love (and not the people you don’t), and be merry.  

As much a possible.

Yes.  That is what I’ll do.

Happy 2016!