Archive for 'Advice You Never Knew You Always Needed'
A fun list of links on a Friday? I am SUCH A BLOGGER. Mostly I just have four things to say and you’re gonna listen whether you like it or not (you’re gonna like it…I guarantee it. #menswarehouse)
I wish we had one of these in Nashtown. I would take the whiskey tasting class and the brunch cooking class and the sushi + sumo wrestling ooh and champagne and cupcake tasting and probably all at once huzzah!
I dare you to listen to these two crooners/lovers and not sorta wish you could go back in time to when men were men and music was music and Elvis was alive and malts were shared with two straws. Even better. locals, there may still be time to see them in Smokey Joe’s Cafe at Franklin Theatre. You will not be sorry. Oh, and get bottomless mimosa’s first at 55 South first. #bossy
The blog behind the reason that I probably need to have at least one red-headed child. So, ginger suitors, please take note: you’re back in the game.
If you want to see me go bananas, meet me at the Southern Artisan Cheese Festival tomorrow. I think my head/heart might explode from happiness. You cheddar believe it’ll be a real, gouda time. (I hate myself).
I, like any regular, red-blooded human, have been known to take one or nine dozen self portraits (ahem, selfies) with my phone.
Sometimes to check my lipstick. Sometimes to practice my smile for upcoming events (don’t get me started on my long smile-history. It’s ugly.)
But never. NEVER! do I upload those to instagram/fb/foursquare/linkedin (yes, it still exists). Yes, perchance if you were to get a hold of my phone (out of my death grip) you would find a few, prime selfies to make fun of me for…but the way I see it, it’s just a pocket mirror, so mind your own business.
My mom loves to tell how she used to catch me checking myself out in the reflection of our toaster when I was a tot. Some call that narcissism, I call that industrialism.
And even I–toaster girl– know the selfie rule.
So I’m thinkin that if I’m the voice of reason on something like this, we know we’ve fallen entirely off the ledge, America.
Just in case for a second there you started thinking that I lead a normal, breezy life, here’s a story to shake you out of that ridiculous reverie.
I popped into my favorite coffee shop yesterday to get a cup o decaf. Normal so far, right? Except maybe that I’m drinking caffeine-free joe, but that’s another story for another time. So I get to the front and the barista (whom I almost-kinda know on a first name basis) says, “Has anyone ever told you that you have Jennifer Anniston hair?”
I’m going to stop you right there to say two things: 1. No, no one has ever told me that before because I have whispy, unruly, entirely forgettable hair (which I may or may not blame on my sisters stealing all of the good hair genes. But again, another story) and 2. I don’t know why the next thing came out of my mouth but it may be because I was wearing a romper that 3 of my friends told me I should retire because, and I quote, “It doesn’t exactly do anything for you.” so I think I was either nervous I’d run into one of them or that they were right. Or both.
Back to the story.
Now, the normal response of a human would be–that’s right– “Thanks!” But, one more time with feeling, I’m not normal.
So my response? “Are you saying I have the Rachel?”
Luckily–and this is why I’ll always like her forever now–she laughed (yes, that’s the key to 99% of my relationships) and responded, “No, it just always looks perfect.”
And then I maybe mumbled some 1998 jokes whilst collecting my cup and exiting stage like a Vaudeville comedian.
The moral of this story is threefold: 1. Don’t wear clothes that more than two friends have advised against. 2. Learn how to accept compliments without reverting to late 90s jokes and 3. I have great hair.
p.s. “The Rachel Haircut” has a Wikipedia page and I don’t.
Ever read something that is as immediately familiar as when you accidentally turn on your iphone camera and it’s facing you? (Minus the double chin and/or horror at what your ‘resting face’ looks like)
This is that for me. From the New York Times’ much-hub-bubbed piece, The Busy Trap.
Such a great piece. And if you’re a writer, chances are you relate to this quote.
“I am not busy. I am the laziest ambitious person I know. Like most writers, I feel like a reprobate who does not deserve to live on any day that I do not write, but I also feel that four or five hours is enough to earn my stay on the planet for one more day.”
Life is hard. Sometimes it just comes and knocks the Dorito taco right out of your hand. But I’ve learned from experience that even though it probably doesn’t feel like it right now, or tomorrow, or when you’re crying through the entire Lady Antebellum We Own the Night album (no? just me?), with time, prayer, and work it won’t be okay–it will be beautiful. And the coolest part is that the very thing that you think will be the end of you, the thing that knocked the wind out of your chest, will be the exact thing that God uses to take your breath away. Now that’s amazing.
God grant me the the serenity to accept the things the client wants changed,
The courage to fight for my vision,
And the wisdom to know the difference.
compelling title, eh?
But just like I gave you my sneeze joke a few weeks ago (just realized that calling it a ‘sneeze joke’ makes it sound entirely unfunny) here are two more of my fav one-liners for your week’s worth of wit. #Aliteration.
1. “Easy for you to say.”
Any time someone stumbles over their words or butchers the pronunciation of something or is just generally struggling with their native American tongue, throw this one out there. It’ll be a hit.
2. “That was my nickname in high school.”
This is one of those that you kind of just have to feel out there to use. But it is deep and wide and beautiful and you will have some pretty good laughs if you use it right.
godspeed you funny freaks.
It did not take living in the south more than a few weeks to learn very quickly that when a southerner said, “well, bless her heart,” they weren’t exactly meaning what they said.
It was more like, “Isn’t she a train wreck?”
In fact, it was not a blessing at all, more like a tricky curse delivered in a southern drawl.
But then I realized that in the North, we have a similar thing but we say, “She’s a character.”
Translation: she is two sheets short of a full bed set.
Ok that’s possibly the worst analogy ever. It means she’s a hot mess.
And right now you are reading this and shaking your head saying, “bless her heart” aren’t you!? Stop it! Don’t you dare bless my heart!
What’s your region’s version of this?
“You, my friend, have outdone yourself,” I said out loud, alone in my house.
To my new nailpolish.
As soon as the words came out of my mouth I took my headphones out of my ears and listened intently to see if a stray roommate had happened to come home for lunch and would finally have the evidence they were looking for to deem me certifiable.
No sound came except the noise of our upstairs neighbor’s rowing machine and Lilith Fair CD.
In relief I realized no one had heard me talking to myself/my fingernails.
But that relief quickly turned into horror and shock and awe and other dramatic terms because I remembered the root issue here: I was just talking to myself.
But in my defense, the nail polish looked really, really good.
I have no idea at all the lesson here except that working from home alone makes you talk and sing to yourself without realizing and sometimes you sound a lot like Jack Donaghy.