Child-Adult

Yo homies, I guess I'm back to the old blog grindstone (that's a saying, right? blog grindstone?). After many libations had been drunk (drank? drinkened? probably drinkened) I was informed that people actually read this nonsensical vanity project of mine, and that they would like me to update more frequently. Enjoy my incoherent babbling about being a giant baby.


A year after graduating from college, after a move to New York, a series of really random jobs that I basically fell into, a move back to Mobile, and a move back to Athens I have realized that I am not even sort of an adult. I joke about this all the time (as do 97% of Americans in their early 20s according to a statistic that I made up to sound more credible), but it's really really true. That's not really the point of this post, though. The point of this post is to discuss the weird habit that people my age have of calling ourselves "old." At first it was funny to talk about how "old" we were because we remember things like cassette tapes and the magical time before cell phones and some of us have jobs and enjoy going to bed at 10 pm, but now it's just gotten kind of weird. So I am here to admit, in front of God and my peers, that I, Julia Siesel Oppenheimer, am 24 and extremely young. I think we've all made the jokes about being old so many times that we're starting to actually believe it, but, the thing is, we've barely lived a quarter of our lives. We've all gotten these ideas so firmly planted in our minds that we're adults and have to settle into our lives already, yet I still have panic attacks at the thought of committing to an apartment lease for more than a year. I know that there are a lot of people who think they have their lives totally figured out and know exactly what they want to do, and to them I say "Congrats!" That really is wonderful. But I am resolutely not one of those people, and I am really sick of being made to feel like some kind of a failure because I don't know what I want to do with my life at the ripe old age of 24. Baby Boomers and The Greatest Generation love to talk about how by the time they were my age they were married with kids and a job. That's what they wanted. That's what they had to do. They're from a time where having a college degree guaranteed a job that you would stay in until you retired. That's not how it works any more. It's 2013 and the economy is in the toilet, so if I want to screw around for a few years and be poor and live in a bunch of different places, that's my decision. It doesn't mean I'm lazy (though I am, extremely) or not as intelligent/talented as the people my age who've mapped out their next 60 years (I'm not), it just means that I'm taking full advantage of all of the opportunities that people in the preceding generations wish they had had. I am a child-adult, and I'm proud of it.

Peace Up, A-town Down

I'm back in Athens. I have never been happier with any decision I've ever made in my life ever. That might sound like hyperbole, but, I assure you, it's not. As the three of you reading this probably know, I spent the last almost year in NYC, and it was something. I'm not sure what, but it was definitely something. A friend of my recently compared his time in New York to being at summer camp, and I'm going to steal that analogy here. Much like going away to summer camp, New York is fun and exciting and you do all sorts of things that you'd never do anywhere else, but, also like summer camp, it starts to wear you out. Plus, I was always the kid at summer camp who stayed awake the whole last night, because I was so excited about going home.
Well, I think that's enough about NY, let's move on. If you've never been to Athens, GA, I don't even know what you're doing with your life. It is one of my top favorite places on Earth. You might be saying to yourself, "But Julia, you've lived in New York and Italy, you've traveled all over the south of France, how could some tiny town in northeastern Georgia be one of your favorite places?" And to you I say, "Why do you know so much about my life, weirdo?" But then I will tell you why Athens is the greatest, and wherever you live/went to college/lived formerly really can't compete. Don't try disagreeing with me, your opinion is wrong.
Here's why:
-It's quaint as shit. Not only is downtown Athens adorably old-fashioned, but most of the neighborhoods around town look like something out of a fucking Norman Rockwell illustration. There's a farmer's market going on down the street right now. Is anything more quaint than a farmer's market? I think not.
-The inhabitants are easily as weird (or weirder) than the so-called "freaks" in New York. I've been sitting downtown for about 2 hours now and have seen around a baker's dozen people that I can't tell if they're currently stoned or have just gotten stoned so often that their faces just look that way. Basically, if people watching was an Olympic sport, and you medalled by the number of bizarre things you see, someone from Athens would win the gold every year.
-FOOD. People think that just because we're a small town, our restaurants are marginal at best, like in Auburn. That is simply not the case. Between Hugh Acheson, the farm-to-table crowds at Branded Butcher and Farm 255, the 20 or so fine dining establishments located in and around downtown, plus the folks over at Senor Sol (the best authentic Mexican food you'll ever eat outside of Mexico. It's attached to a Shell station), Athens has some of the best food I've ever been around. If you try to tell me you've had a better biscuit than they make at Mama's Boy, you're a liar and a whore.
-BOOZE: Athens has 75 bars in the 10 block area of downtown. Yes, you read that right, 75 BARS IN A 10 BLOCK AREA. There is a bar for every demographic, and some that overcome all demographic boundaries. If you can't find a bar in Athens that you like, stop blaming the bars and go do some soul searching.
-Walker's: This pub and coffee house gets it's own bullet point, because it is simply the best. It is the only place I've found anywhere that you can come in the morning and stay until 2 a.m. You can study (or blog) with a coffee during the day, then make the obvious transition to beer around 4 (let's be realistic, it's more like 3), and just continue into the night. Plus no one gives you dirty looks for just getting one coffee and nursing it for 6 hours while you try to finish a paper that's due at midnight. Walker's is my Cheers. I'm there right now.
-The music scene is just incredible. Of course everyone knows the big names, R.E.M., B-52s, Widespread Panic, Of Montreal, Drive-By Truckers, but there are tons of up-and-comers getting recognition all the time, like Dead Confederate, the Whigs, Venice is Sinking, the Modern Skirts. You can go to a show pretty much any night of the week, and you're basically guaranteed a good time. Plus, lots of comedians come through here, if that's more your scene (it is mine).
-We have a microbrewery right outside of town. On Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays when the weather is nice, you can buy a commemorative Terrapin glass (which roommates have been know to fight over while trying to split them up on move out day) and taste their wide array of beers while enjoying the musical stylings of one of our many aspiring musicians.
-UGA: As a graduate of the enormous university, I would be remiss to not include it on this list. The traditional SEC powerhouse provides a perfect balance to the extreme hipness of the music/art/lit scene. Without the extreme "Southernness" of many of the students, the weirdness might get overwhelming.
-It's just great.

That's it. I defy you to come here and not immediately fall in love. Seriously, try it. The only person I know who doesn't like Athens is my father, but he also doesn't like anything. Don't be like my dad; come to Athens and let it wash over you like so much craft beer.

Let's Get Political

In my spare time (which is most of my time), I have been reading a lot of Vice magazine. Well, I've been reading their website, but that is neither here nor there. For those of you who don't know, Vice was started in the late 80s (early 90s? I don't care enough to look it up), by a Canadian gentleman, and now has offices all over the world. They report on news and movies and music and pop culture and general nonsense. The writing is usually hilarious, and often political. Normally, I'm not one to discuss politics, because it generally just leads to people getting their feelings hurt or getting really pissed off, and, frankly, it's almost impossible to change someone's mind once they're set on something. But, seeing as it is an election year, and seeing as the point of a blog is to share your opinions (I think? Whatever), I guess I'm going to have to go ahead and discuss some of the most ridiculous things I've been reading lately.

DISCLAIMER: I am not here to change anyone's mind. If you disagree with what I say below, well, you're entitled to your opinion, but, just remember, you're not restricted to a single mindset, and change is always often good. ALSO, I'd like to go on record as saying that most politicians, even the ones we want to like and support, say the things they say simply to get support. It's their job. If they don't say things that a lot of people will agree with, they'll lose those jobs. Let's all just try to remember that before we go and start calling people "evil" or "Satan" or "Hitler."

Moving on. The first thing I'd like to discuss is North Carolina's Amendment 1. The fact that this law passed really speaks to the fact that so many people really have no understanding of homosexuality. There are tons of reasons behind this. Maybe they've never met a gay person. Maybe they want so badly to trust their spiritual leaders that they decide to ignore common human decency. Maybe they're just dumb. Whatever the reason, by passing this law the state of North Carolina, a state that has so many wonderful things going for it (UNC, mountains, beaches, I hear Charlotte is lovely, Asheville is amazing, etc.), has decided that not only can they ignore the whole "separation of church and state" thing that this country was founded on, but that homosexuals, single parents, and other non-married couples are basically non-humans. Here's the thing, the thing is, I'm not a judge, but I'm pretty sure creating a law that directly corresponds to a so-called "Christian" (read: not very Christ-like at all) ideal should be un-constitutional. Of course, since there's no mention of religion in the amendment itself, and it was voted on, I guess they've created a nice little loophole for themselves. I just can't imagine that Jesus, a guy that hung out with a prostitute and a tax collector, would be super into any sort of law that made people sub-human. Pretty sure there was no asterisk after "love thy neighbor as thyself" that said "*unless he's a homo, because, I mean, fuck those guys, right?" Some North Carolinians have created the fantastic organization Every1Against1 and made an ad campaign that actually gave me goosebumps. If you are one of the 6 people in America who is on the fence about marriage equality, please check it out. Actually, check it out regardless.

Now, on the opposite side of that same coin, while I fully support marriage equality, I do not support people crapping all over religion, because they say it's anti-equality (which, in my opinion, is just untrue). I don't care what you do or don't believe, if you support equality, then you support everyone's right to his or her own opinion. Mocking someone for believing in God because you don't, or making crude jokes (like calling God the "flying spaghetti monster"), is just creating more hatred. I am Christian, one of my best friends is Jewish and another one of my best friends is atheist. Obviously my beliefs differ from theirs, but I would go to jail before I'd allow someone to take away their rights to have those beliefs. The great thing about America is that it's a free country, as so many of us were fond of saying in childhood. Calling someone's beliefs stupid just because you don't share them doesn't make you any smarter. In reality, it just makes you sound like a self-righteous moron whose own point is so weak that instead of standing up for what you believe in, you simply tear down everyone else.

Next, I saw a really hilarious trailer that is also kind of serious in a way. It's for a new documentary called The Muslims are Coming! about a group of Muslim comedians touring the country. The basic point of the movie is to confront the idea in the U.S. that all Muslims are members of Al-Quaeda. OK. This is insane. Have you ever seen any World War II Nazi propaganda that says that Jews steal babies and are actually vampires? This is the SAME THING. The people at Fox News (and many other networks) have been frothing about Muslims for the past 10 1/2 years, saying that they want to destroy our freedom and all sorts of other non-sensical things. I am not denying that there are Muslim extremists who want to harm Americans, but they are part of an astonishing minority, and I'd wager that extremists of any religion are probably not a good thing. Calling someone a terrorist because he/she is Muslim is like calling someone racist because he/she is white. Sure, you might be right, but you're probably not.

Speaking of insanity, let's talk about women's rights. All sorts of states like Virginia and Kansas and Arizona are coming up with some really horrifying laws about women's health. The most insane, in my opinion, is the bill in Kansas that requires doctors to tell women seeking an abortion that it may cause breast cancer. Um, what? I can't believe abortions cause breast cancer! Mostly because they don't. At least according to this new-fangled "science" thing. Apparently Kansas legislators not only think that women are too simple-minded to be trusted to make their own health care decisions, but that women are in fact so dim-witted that they'll believe this blatant lie. Thank goodness we have all these smart men folk to keep us poor, dumb women from trying to do something as insane as making our own choices in respect to our health!

In short, I find it pretty fucking ironic that so many people are hateful towards Islamic people because they think Islamic people want to destroy our freedom, then those same people turn around and vote for laws that reduce the freedoms of their fellow Americans.

Again, my job isn't to change anyone's mind, nor is it to denigrate anyone's beliefs, I just want everyone to have a good long think about exactly how their opinions, and therefore their votes, might affect others. This has nothing to do with being "liberal" or "conservative", but mostly it has to do with being someone who either cares about his fellow human beings, or someone who only cares about his fellow human beings as long as they're just like him.

Sorry for bringing the heavy. Here's Seth Galifinakis interviewing Sean Penn in "Between Two Ferns" to lighten the mood up a bit. Enjoy! Maybe next week I'll start talking about stupid shit again. I don't really like serious me.

Look At Your Life, Look At Your Choices

Lately, I've been going to a coffee shop to try to get work done, because when I'm at home my non-working mother is too much of a distraction. I know that makes me sound like one of those assholes who goes to Starbucks to "work on my manuscript" just so people will see me and be impressed, but I really cannot get anything done with my mom around, plus I'm doing actual PR work for an actual paycheck, so cool your jets. Moving on, today I was lucky enough to get a little extra entertainment. Instead of just listening to music like I normally do, I happened to sit down right next to two guys who are playing some sort of online video computer game together (sorry I don't know the lingo, I may have been a drama nerd in high school, but at least I wasn't a computer nerd). It seems to be a World of Warcraft-esque game, something with fighting and mining and planes or some shit. It sounds pretty goony. Anyway, the big, fat guy with a goatee and goofy glasses appears to be mentoring the skinny, awkward guy with greasy hair and a chinstrap beard. It's very Obi Wan/Luke meets The Big Bang Theory, which is a show I've watched exactly twice because I live with my parents so stop judging me, you jerks. Honestly, listening to them has made my having an absurd amount of work to do slightly bearable. Obi Wan is also wearing a blue tooth earpiece and discussing weapons and strategy with someone who is not present. From what I've surmised after listening to one side of the conversation, the other person may be in Romania. Cool. Also, the skinny guy is smoking one of those electronic cigarettes that uses water vapor that they advertise on late night television. It's pretty delightful. On a more depressing note, it appears that they are both married, so that makes me feel awesome about myself. I can't get a date, but the two goons who spend their entire Monday playing a computer game together are married? These guys clearly don't have jobs even though they appear to be in their early 30s, they know way too much about and try too hard at online games, and are frankly highly unattractive and they have significant others?! I need to get my act together. On a final note, they are apparently spending actual money to buy weapons and shit for this game. Jesus Christ, guys, look at your lives, look at your choices. I hate everyone.

UPDATE: They just left, and before walking out the door, Obi Wan put on a super sick fedora. Good hat choice, brah. Way to seal the spot for Kewlest Guy. You look super seksi.

Back Where I Come From

Well, after almost exactly 10 months in the city, I've come to a conclusion. I miss the South. I miss driving and having a porch and grass and trees and space. I never thought of myself as a super "Southern" person. I have travelled a bit in my life. I've been to Europe. I speak French. I enjoy meeting people of varied backgrounds. I thought, all of this considered, that New York would be the perfect place for me. I was wrong.
New York is an interesting place. There are over 8 million people in the boroughs, many of whom are not originally from New York or even the United States. At any given time, there are dozens of things to do. It's an exciting place. What I've learned in my time here is that I am not an exciting person. A perfect day to me is one spent drinking beer in the sunshine, maybe playing corn hole with friends, laughing and generally lazing about. New York is not the place for that. New York is the place for cool people. It's where you live if you like constantly being inundated with new sights and sounds and faces. It's where you live if you want to be on the cutting edge of music and fashion and culture. I thought that I wanted those things, but now I realize that I like a slow paced atmosphere. I'm a pretty laid-back person, and New York, as it turns out, is not a laid back town. So, on Tuesday, April 3 at 11:59 a.m. I will board a plane to the South. I'll be living with my parents for a few months before ultimately moving to my favorite place in the world, Athens, GA, in August. Hopefully moving back to Athens will give me the motivation I need to go to grad school. If it does, let's all just keep our fingers crossed that UGA will let me be a student there again.
Because so many people hold New York as the greatest city in the world, I was at first worried that I was some sort of a failure for not being totally happy here, but then I realized that New York being an incredible city does not necessitate my happiness. I think the important thing to remember is that New York is a great city, but you can only be happy in a city if you like cities, no matter how great or shitty. I have learned from my brief time here that I am not in love with cities, and I'm pretty sure cities aren't in love with me. I have nothing against cities, they're great for a visit, but I'm just not ready to commit.
To the people that I have met in the City:
Sorry I didn't really tell any of you I was leaving. I'm really bad at goodbyes. Actually, I'm just really bad at doing anything in person, hence the blog. You're all great, and I'll miss you. Thank you all for everything you did for me. I really do appreciate it, even if I'm not good at showing it.
The long and the short of it is that I came to New York to find myself, and I wasn't here. I think I may be in Athens, but then again, I have a very strong feeling that I may actually be on the West Coast. I'll let y'all know when I figure it out. For now, give me a call if you find yourself in the Portable City (that's Mobile, y'all).

I'm Doing a Cleanse, Because I'm Better Than You

Seeing as cleanses are the hip new thing to do right now, I’m sure you all have tried one, or at least know what they are. For those of you who have been living under a stupid rock, a cleanse is where you only drink weirdo powdered meal replacement things or only eat apples or something equally stupid for a specific number of days then you feel all better and you can be all condescending to your friends. In short, cleanses are really amazing (if you enjoy being condescending to your friends). Because I have around zero self-control and am a lady-child, I decided that there was no way in hell that I’d be able to not eat anything for a week, so instead, I’m just doing a sort of semi-cleanse. I drink a fucking disgusting delicious meal replacement “shake” in the morning and then try to eat grown-up food (meaning not candy and french fries) for the rest of the day. It’s going pretty well, but let me spin you a wee yarn about this grainy, seemingly silt-based, “vanilla” meal shake. I bought it off Gilt Group in a moment of temporary insanity, and have begun drinking it in a moment of sustained insanity. The powder itself looks and smells like cake mix, but, when combined with water as the directions suggest, it tastes like cold, liquid plastic. The worst thing about it is that it doesn’t taste bad enough to not drink it, but it doesn’t taste good enough to try to actually do a full cleanse. So now I’m stuck in a weird cleanse limbo, and I fear that I shall be here for the rest of my days. Farewell, society. I’ll miss you.

Valentine's Day

Finally, it's everyone's favorite pseudo-holiday: Valentine's Day! Since you're single (because there's no way you're reading this blog if you have absolutely anything better to do), I thought I'd share some of my best things to do alone on Valentine's. Not to brag, but I've had 23 years of experience; I'm kind of an expert on the subject.

-Buy a cat: an obvious choice, I know. But they don't call it a classic without a good reason!
-Eat the entire box of chocolate your roommate's mom sent you, because she feels sorry for you.
-Watch a Law and Order:SVU marathon. It will help to remind you that the outside world is a scary place, no one can be trusted, and you're better off not leaving your apartment anyway!
-Drink alone.
-Read stories of true love on the internet and cry.
-Lay in the fetal position and cry.
-Cry.
-Learn the entire dance from the "Call Your Girlfriend" video.
-Watch Taran Killam's version of the "Call Your Girlfriend" dance 100-200 times.
-Imagine a scenario in which you and Taran perform the dance to the applause of millions.
-Drink more.
-Send weird, passive-aggressive texts to your friends in relationships.
-Tweet feverishly about how you "hate Valentine's Day and it's just a holiday created by the greeting card companies to make money omgggggggg"
-Send yourself flowers. Even though no one will see them but you, because you don't have a job, it helps reinforce the lie. Lying to yourself is very healthy.
-Laugh bitterly about how if you abbreviate Valentine's Day it's VD. That'll show those suckers who are in love hahahahahahahahahahahaahahaha.
-Get a text from your mother that says "HVD! Love you!" and wonder if she understands how that could mean something entirely different and WAY disturbing.
-Blog.

Remember: being alone on Valentine's Day can be a good thing. Sure, you don't get presents (except maybe a bunch of chocolate from your roommate's mom) and no one tells you how much they love you/how pretty you are/how they can't imagine life without you, but you also don't have to shower or be nice to anyone all day. I love any excuse to not be nice to anyone all day. Also, I just want you all to know that I think of you as my Valentines. You love me, right? Right??? RIGHT???????????????????????

Note: That is a real screen grab of a real conversation had by my 5 oldest friends and me. We're such assholes. In all fairness to us, Perrin was joking. As an added piece of fun, everyone has decided that whenever someone gets engaged, all of us will respond with "I'm vomiting."

Vermont: Everything is Cute

Sorry if you already read this on my Tumblr. Actually, I'm not. If you're reading both this blog and my Tumblr, you're clearly obsessed with me, so you're probably fine with reading the same thing again because you just love me so much. Ok, you're kind of smothering me. Cool it, crazy.

As you may have gleaned from my picture of the Vermont winter dreamscape a few days ago, I went on a little weekend outing to the delightful Green Mountain State. When I use the word “delightful” here, I mean literally “full of delight.” It is such a magical landscape of snow and pine trees and the FRIENDLIEST FUCKING PEOPLE EVER. Seriously, everyone in that state is so nice, it’s a little startling at first. I went to visit my idiot friend, Emily, and, every time I met someone new, she prefaced the introduction with, “You’ll really like them; they’re so nice.”

On Friday, we ventured up to Burlington for Emily’s law prom. Let me just say that everything about Burlington was delightful, but the best part of the evening, by far, was watching law students “have fun.” The first word that comes to mind is “goony.” It was just like high school prom if every single person at your school was a huge nerd. Watching people who never let loose and get drunk let loose and get drunk is really just incredible. You would think that after 4 years of college people would know how to go to a party and stay in a hotel over night without causing problems, but you’d be wrong. People were running around the hotel, breaking shit, smoking pot in the hallways, getting arrested. I was actually one of the most well-behaved people there, which is hilarious in and of itself.

On Saturday, after an absolutely fantastic brunch at Magnolia (including one of the best bloody marys I’ve ever had), Emily decided to take me on a driving tour of Vermont. It was on this cruise around the state that we coined what will inevitably become the new state motto. Vermont: Everything is Cute. The towns are cute, the people are cute, the landscapes are cute, even the occasional double-wide trailer was cute, if only because of its novelty. We then went across the border to Hanover, New Hampshire, where Dartmouth is located, and discovered that New Hampshire is also cute. Also, Vermont and New Hampshire are essentially the same state. There aren’t even signs to let you know you’re crossing the border, because they are the same place. It’s great.

I Got a Tumblr!

That's pretty much it. Just wanted to let anyone who still reads this thing know that I got a Tumblr. Check it out here: http://aportablecity.tumblr.com/
As it's easier to just post little blurbs to a Tumblr, maybe I'll actually keep up with it more. Or maybe not! What a delightful intrigue! Stay tuned to find out.

I Am Terrified...

Because I think I might be a hipster. I was playing on the internet today and found this article on "Hipster Interests." As you probably know if you've been reading this blog with any sort of semi-regularity, I LOVE hipsters. And by "I LOVE hipsters," I mean that I think they're terrible and mainly enjoy mocking them. Moving on, I obviously had to read this article so that I could laugh at everything hip, and I did laugh...for about 10 seconds until I realized that I actually like almost everything on the list. I had never really thought about it that much, but I have seen all of those movies multiple times. And I own several of them on DVD. And watch them regularly. Ditto for most of the music. And I have been known to watch Shark Week, though that's usually at the behest of others, because I don't really care that much about sharks. Shit.
Although, now that I think about it, since I enjoyed most of that stuff without feeling like I was supposed to enjoy it just to sound cool in conversation, maybe I'm not trying to be a hipster, maybe hipsters are trying to be me. Yeah, I'm going to go with that. So all of you hipsters who follow my blog should also start reading P.J. O'Rourke (particularly Holidays in Hell) and listening to Childish Gambino. Get on it.

Celebrity Guest Blog

Yikes. So I haven't posted on here in over a month, and, technically, I'm still not right now. My brother, Johnston, was oddly not busy at his very important job and was randomly inspired to write this post. It's an opinion piece like those found in The Onion, from the point of view of a working class 10 year old boy. I choose to name him Craig Jenkins. Thanks for taking the reigns on this whole blog thing, bro; clearly I'm kind of slacking. Whoops.

With Christmas quickly approaching, I have had Santa on my mind almost non-stop over the past week. And I have reached a philosophical impasse. It has been known, since time immemorial, that Santa Claus is watching all of us year-round and keeping tabs on how good we are, placing us on his lists as either good or bad. Assuming we make it to the good list, and since not all children receive the same type and number of gifts, or even gifts equal in cumulative monetary value, it stands to reason that any disparity in those gifts must result from exactly how good we are, as compared to other children. For instance, if we are polite, do well in school, help others and the like, we should receive superior gifts to say, those children who barely make onto the good list. So my question is this: if Santa is really keeping track of all these children and how good they are during the year and rewards them proportionately based on how good they have been, then why do all the rich kids get better presents?

Let's take my fourth grade class as a case study. Last year, my friend Mike Donnelly received a gold star in class for good behavior every single day. He was always polite to the teacher and all of our classmates. He helps his parents around the house and is a generally all around good kid. His only shortcoming may be that he is not the most intelligent, but that is never listed as a criterion for the good list, so this matter is negligible . Now let's tally up what he got for Christmas last year: socks, blue jeans, candy in his stocking and a Nintendo DS. Not a bad Christmas, but for such a good kid I would expect something more substantial. His father is an accountant and his mother a teacher, for reference.

Now compare him to Charles "Chaz" Winthrop Archibald, III. His father is a lobbyist, his mother is a socialite, from what I can tell. Chaz received gold stars on barely 1/4 of the schools days last year. He was consistently rude to our teacher and classmates. He never shares, throws temper tantrums when he doesn't get his way, and generally regards all of us as peasants. Further, his grades are atrocious - he can barely spell anything over two syllables and can't multiply to save his life. By all measures, I'd say he deserved a lump of coal at best. But let's look at a small sampling of what he found under the tree last year: XBox 360 fully loaded with a dozen games, Cannondale bicycle, new laptop, and a trip to Europe with his family.

How do we account for the disparity in gifts? Is Chaz doing charity work outside of school that none us knows about to make up for his poor behavior in the big man's eyes? I don't think so, he's not the type to help the homeless, sickly or elderly. As he readily admits, the only reason he even speaks to his grandmother is because she pays him $100 a visit. Am I missing something, or is the only logical explanation that Santa likes wealthy kids better than the rest of us? Are they somehow inherently better than us? Does being rich make you implicitly good? Or did they get placed on some sort of special list, on top of receiving preferential treatment in literally every other facet of life? It makes no sense - Santa is supposed to be the great equalizer, not caring if we are rich or poor and loving us just the same. But in reality, it looks like he gives gifts based entirely on how much money your parents have. Is it possible that the wealthy are bribing Santa? Has he been corrupted too? I certainly hope not, but there has to be some plausible explanation behind why Chaz receives a Mercedes PowerWheels after pushing Sara off of the jungle gym and I receive Yahtzee after receiving the 4th grade science award. Perhaps, there is some direct correlation between . . . wait, what's that mom? Oh. I see. Son of a bitch. Santa's not real. Sorry to have wasted all of your time; mystery solved. I'm off to take up juvenile delinquency.

The Big 2-3

As you would know if you were all true friends and not just imaginary people that I write to on my blog, today is my 23rd birthday. Yippee? I also recently learned that not only do I share this illustrious day with Art Garfunkel and Ryan Adams, but another famous songwriter. Well, she's not so much famous for songwriting as for doing nothing, being married to a former Olympic athlete, and having several children who also now do nothing. That's right. America's sweetheart: Kris Jenner. Here's a fun video that she made for her 30th birthday, 94 years ago today. Look out for the part when O.J. Simpson cheerfully shouts, "She loves you!" Do you think he was singing this as he murdered his wife and another person? I like to think so. Also note that music is credited to Randy Newman and lyrics to Kim, Kourtney and Khloe. Yes, an award winning songwriter has been lumped in with the Kardashian sisters. I think the apocalypse is now.

Happy 124th birthday, Kris! Next year let's totes do a party together. I'm thinking Vegas. Or female fight club. Or roller skating. Whatever, we'll figure it out. Love ya, girl, LyLaS OmGgGgGgG~~~~~@ ;)
You're awful.

Also

BULLDOGS WON YESTERDAY. I'm still so excited about this, it's actually a touch pathetic, but we haven't beat those shitheads down in Florida since I was a freshman, so yesterday was a big deal. I just had to mention something about that and leave you with two photos that really capture the essence of the day.

And I know that Tebow doesn't play for them any more and that that picture was from when they were playing Alabama, but it still makes me happy. Also this:

Today I Saw a Thing

Today my very best friend since 5th grade, Michelle, and her delightful boyfriend, Sam, were visiting me in the Big City. We touristed around all day (which was pretty fun for me, because, as someone who lives here, I generally get judged for doing this kind of thing) and went to Magnolia Bakery for cupcakes. Actually, Sam got some other sort of cake because he just has to be a crazy radical and rock the boat, but that is neither here nor there. We then went and sat in a little square to enjoy our confections, and just as I was digging into my cupcake, I glanced to my left. At the end of the square, about 10 feet from us, stood one of two trash cans. Perched daintily on the rim, like a beautiful, lithe ballerina, was a very large rat. Okay. I've seen rats before. I mean, I live in New York City, and I regularly ride the subway; I see rats like every other day. But generally they are not hanging out on top of a trash can in the middle of the afternoon in a relatively clean city square. So, of course, we were kind of horrified, but then we realized it was actually pretty damn funny. We fumbled around trying to get a picture, and then the rat, let's call him Templeton, fell into the trash can. We then spent a good amount of time speculating as to what would happen to Templeton. Would he be able to scale the trash bag, even though it had little to no traction, being a trash bag? Did he have some sort of rope with which he was going to lasso a tree and climb out? Would he be able to gnaw his way through the steel drum trash can? What kind of vertical leap do rats have? We were pretty concerned. Then we got distracted by other things. Upon finishing our cupcakes and non-cup cake, Sam went to throw the remainders of his treat out, because we were all too full to finish it. We remembered Templeton and decided to give him a sugary snack to make his imprisonment less painful. Sam crept up to the trash can, just close enough to see in, and tossed in the end of his cake. That's when he discovered that it wasn't just Templeton, but his whole rat family in that trash can. It was their smelly rat home. How quaint. Michelle then went over to view the Templeton family, and as she was creeping up, as both Sam and I are assuring her that there's no way a rat can jump high enough to get her if she gets a little closer, he jumped. If NBA players had a proportional vertical leap, regulation net height would be like 40 feet. I have never seen anything leap as high as this rat and he chose when Michelle was just barely peering over the edge to show off his skillz. It was basically the best possible timing, like the universe telling me it loves me. Michelle screamed like a little tiny girl and Sam and I laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed. It actually may have been the most hilarious thing I have ever seen. And so it was that I saw Michelle almost be accosted by a rat, and now October 30th will forever be remembered as Rat Day, or El Dia de los Ratos, for our Spanish speaking brethren.

I Watched Boogie Nights Tonight

Well, I watched the edited for TV version, but that still sort of counts, right? Anyway, while watching it I had many thoughts, one of which was that I would have really jived with disco. I actually said that. Out loud. To my roommate. I'm such a fucking weirdo sometimes; I legitimately worry myself. Some other thoughts I had were about how amazing '70s porno names were and whether porn "actors" still have fun names. Because I didn't feel like doing the kind of research necessary to answer that question, I just made up a bunch of porn names myself*. If you are an aspiring porno starlet/studlet, please feel free to borrow one of these, but I expect some sort of royalties.

Porno Names:
-Tiffani Lalane
-Sheree Bandeau
-Jock McHart
-Picabu Street
-Dash Hightower
-Destiny Childs (this is also an effective drag name)
-Rick Maxfield
-Tina Shine
-Crystal Jaggers
-Megan Foxx
-Gina Jones
-Shane Skyy
-Trip Scott
-Scot Tripp
-Mandy Pepper
-Ryan Seacrest
-Chassidy Lyles


*Any similarities with actual people's names are purely coincidental. Also, I'm sorry your parents gave you a porn star name and you decided to keep it instead of changing it when you got famous even though your manager probably told you it sounded like a porn star name.

Excuse Me?

Rand of Horses? Sounds kind of dirty. Sometimes you make me uncomfortable at work, Shazam.

Atlantic City

Clearly, I'm a terrible blogger. I said 2 weeks ago that I'd write a hilarious post on my weekend of nonsense in the most elegant city in the world, Atlantic City, New Jersey, and have I? No. Luckily for all of you, my friend Clay pointed out my extreme neglect and now I shall right that wrong. Here it is: my journey to the Shore.

Note: This picture doesn't even come close, but it's the best I could find.

Two weeks ago, roommate Lyndsay's company sent her to AC (as it is known to locals, aka hardcore gamblers and people on vacation from Cleveland), and they kindly allowed her to bring friends, so Virge came up from GA, and we all headed to the Shore. As we didn't arrive until 10:30, we felt it necessary to start drinking the minute we got to the hotel. I might mention that we were staying at Caesar's. No, we didn't ask if that's where the real Caesar lived, because we're not 14 year old boys, and I'm sure that joke's been done to death. Stop it. After dressing in our sparkliest attire and consuming a large bottle of wine between the three of us (after having not eaten dinner, a detail that will be important to remember later), we were ready to hit the slots. Since we are not hardcore gamblers, we felt that slot machines would be the best bet (no pun intended, but definitely enjoyed), because the minimum is only a dollar. Little did we know that slots take extreme strategy. There are at least 6 buttons on every machine, which was disappointing for several reasons:
1) You don't get to pull the lever, which is kind of one of the most fun parts of the slots.
2) The only directions (if there are any) use weirdo gambling jargon that you would only understand if you spent many days of your life in a casino.
3) They make you bet at least 30 cents on each spin, meaning that dollars don't go as far as they should.
Basically slots are awful but were the only type of gambling we felt comfortable around. Also, when you're gambling, the casino has lovely cocktail waitresses bringing you free drinks of which we had several. By the way, "lovely" here means "old and haggard and wearing white dresses that appear to be from Bebe ." Virge and I quickly lost $10 a piece and decided to give up. Lyndsay, on the other hand, only spent $3 and won. She won A HUNDRED FREAKING DOLLARS. What a bitch. Well, then Virge and Lyndsay went and cashed out and the cashier looked at them like they were idiots for being so excited over $100. Clearly, she wasn't aware that we're not hardcore gamblers. Have I said that enough times? Good. I'll move on.
Though we briefly thought about going to the "club" on the premises, we opted for the very elegant bar, Toga (Caesar's has a bar called Toga, get it? sOoO fUnNy oMg). Obviously, we forced Lyndsay to put up the dollars for drinks. For some reason, our drink of choice that night was vodka and Diet Coke. Why? Because we're great. Anyway, Virge insisted on light ice in these drinks. If you haven't been paying attention, we've had many drinks at this point. How many? I have no idea. The point is, there was no reason to put less diluting substances in our drinks. But you're only in Atlantic City once. If you're lucky. For some reason, none of us realized that by not going out until midnight, it was automatically about two hours later than we assumed it was. That and the fact that casinos never fucking close and don't have clocks anywhere, so we had no idea what time it was. After a few more vodka DCs, we met some lovely gentlemen, who we chatted up until they bought us more drinks, including some Jager bombs that were the same size as regular drinks. Woof. Clearly, the rest of the night got interesting. I won't go into details because this is the internet and I may want someone to give me a job one day. Needless to say, we made bad decisions and one of us may have vomited into a toilet while sitting on said toilet.
Also needless to say, we weren't feeling too snappy the next day. Poor Lyndsay had to get up and go do work things, but the only reason Virge and I got out of bed at all was to walk to the Mickey Don Dons. Seriously, that was the only reason either of us got out of bed until 6 o'clock that evening, going to McDonald's. It would have been a lot sadder if it didn't seem that every other person in Atlantic City was doing the same thing. It's possibly because there are no real restaurants in AC; it's like the entirety of the Mid West was transported to the New Jersey shore. The nicest restaurants appeared to be Applebee's and Longhorn, but there was also a delightful "gourmet" establishment right on the boardwalk in Trump Plaza where we dined Saturday evening. They had a prix fixe menu (probably pronounced as it's spelled by most customers) for $19, if that gives you any idea of the level of cuisine we faced here. I order what was called a pork tender on the menu, and ended up being two huge pork medallions stuffed with ham and cheese and covered in some sort of sauce. It was delightful. I also have type 2 diabetes now. We played the slots for a while, but Lyndsay wasn't on fire that night, so after spotting a very large woman in a pink, leopard-print, spandex unitard, we decided to call it quits (I tried to find a picture of this, but, luckily for your retinas, I couldn't). After Friday night, Saturday was slightly more low key; especially after we tried to go to Dusk (the club), and found out there was a $25 cover. I'm sure you're surprised to know that none of us wanted to pay to hang out in a darkened club with the types of people who go to clubs in Atlantic City (think Jersey Shore cast if they were from Nebraska) and listen to house music, so we went to the "beer garden" on the boardwalk. I put "beer garden" in quotes here, because it was really just a bar. They had about 8 beers on the menu, all of which were bottled, 4 of which were Budweiser, Bud Light, Coors and Coors Light. I'm not sure what they think a beer garden is, but it's not that.
On Sunday, we couldn't spend the entire day in bed again because we had to check out at noon, which was sad, so we spent the day on the boardwalk and in the mall. Both were about as depressing as you would imagine, with the high points being the souvenir stands at which you could buy shirts that said things like "A Special Lady" with a picture of kittens (or other adorable baby animals) and The Show. The Show was every hour on the hour in the mall. It was amazing. It was hilarious. It was a fountain with lights that synchronize sprayed to a variety of awful music. After The Show we had a delightful seafood lunch in the mall. Yes, I ate seafood in a mall. Fortunately, we were in Jersey, so that's pretty average. Sadly, it was probably the best non-McDonald's meal we had all weekend. That night after the premiere of Boardwalk Empire (the entire reason we were in AC, because Lyndsay's company does marketing for the show), we were driven back to the city in a really fly SUV with a tv and watched a movie called Flight of the Phoenix starring Dennis Quaid. I have no idea what happened in the movie, but old Dennis looked pretty good.
Virge said it best, "I feel like everyone here is on their bucket list." There is seriously no other reason that any person should ever go to Atlantic City, but every person should go at least once. It's dirty and old (in a sad, post-nuclear meltdown Chernobyl kind of way) and filled with people who seem at once depressed and too stupid to realize they're depressed, also very old people; of course, being very old gives you the excuse to do anything and be neither pathetic nor stupid. Old people don't give a fuck.
Here is a list of things I learned in Atlantic City:
1) Casinos are filled with broken dreams and elastic waist pants, and therefore hilarious if you have no soul (like me).
2) If faced with restaurant choices that include Applebee's, McDonald's, Melting Pot, and Longhorn, I will have no problem with going to McDonald's twice in two days.
3) Though I will never ride in one, whoever invented the "adult strollers" as we called them (basically pedi-cabs without the bicycle that are pushed from behind) was a fucking genius. If there's one thing that the type of people who go to AC hate, it's exercise of any kind, and so love any way to get from buffet to buffet while moving as little as possible.
4) Wearing a tiara and/or boa and/or veil to your Atlantic City bachelorette party is even more embarrassing/depressing than doing that at your bachelorette party in any other city.
5) I will never tire of judging people based on their outfits and life choices.
6) Even though I smoke occasionally, smoking indoors is just really really gross.
7) Giving your number to a guy is a really terrible, awful idea. I'm a fucking moron.
8) Atlantic City is the worst place in the world, and therefore, kind of the best.

And here's the song that was stuck in my head all weekend. If you can't guess what it is just by virtue of the fact that this is a post about Atlantic City, just stop being dumb.

Coming Soon...

I'm at work right now, and don't have the patience to stand here and write a full blog post, but tomorrow there WILL be a new post about my weekend in Atlantic City. I'll leave you with these words: pink, leopard-print cat suit. See you tomorrow!

I'm Tired. Also, Fashion Rant

I know that last week I said that I'd write a new post after I had a few days to recharge from the booze-a-thon that was last week, but here's the thing. The thing is that I started my second job this week on top of my internship and now I'm freaking exhausted. The internship at Grove/Atlantic is pretty great, but I was very busy this week. Yesterday I sent out 152 copies of the same book. It took four hours. Woof. Second job is at a brand new skin care shop called Cellure. The store hasn't actually opened yet so we've been running around like a bunch of bufoons trying to get everything ready. It's a really cool product line, though, so everyone should check it out. I'll wait. Neat, eh? Now I'm tired. All this is to say that I have neither the energy, nor the mental capacity right now to write a full post. Sorry. I'm a bad blogger. Here's a post I wrote in the airport 2 weeks ago. It was written at 8 in the morning and I'm not even going to read over it, so it may be stupid and/or offensive. Again, sorry (not really).

Fashion Rant

I know that I am not the first to say this, nor shall I probably be the last, but as I sit at LaGuardia waiting for a flight to Atlanta, I cannot help but despair at the state of my fellow travelers’ vestments. Though I realize that flying is not the rarity and therefore not the special occasion that it once was, I can’t help but ask, “Does no one care anymore?” To look around at the people both boarding and disembarking, it seems that everyone has decided collectively to not give a shit how they’re perceived. While flying is a fairly unpleasant process, especially for those of us in steerage, and I don’t think it’s necessary to wear a suit or an Easter dress, would it kill people to not look like they had just rolled out of bed. Perhaps it would be a better experience overall if everyone came together and at least tried to look like they’ve achieved the level of success needed to be able to afford to fly. Even at my best, I generally look a touch rumpled and shabby next to my more stylish peers, so when I am one of the best-dressed people around, it’s not a good sign for society at large. Of course, there will be people who disparage this opinion, shouting, “Clothes are superficial! What does it matter what you wear so long as you know that you’re clever/successful/interesting?! Why should we kowtow to materialism and the status quo beauty ideal?!” To these people I will say, “Shut up. You are wrong, and here’s why.” Whether we like to admit it or not, the way we feel about a person on first meeting has a great deal to do with how they look. If a person is tidy and nicely dressed and appears well rested, we generally think of that person positively. Conversely, if a person appears slovenly and unkempt and like we’ve caught him readying for bed, we feel ill at ease, as if perhaps something’s gone wrong in their life and why on Earth would you want to be around a stranger in the middle of an emotional crisis? That’s just awkward for everyone involved. Obviously a plane trip is not an interview and if you would really rather be “comfortable” than have people treat you with respect, that’s your prerogative. Though as for that, who says you can’t be comfortable and also look like not a hobo?

This discourse leads me into a larger matter altogether. There are certain pieces of clothing that people insist on wearing that actually upset me upon sight:
The first offender: tennis shoes, or “sneakers” to our yankee brethren. There are precisely two times when it is appropriate to wear these shoes, and all of them involve physical activity. If you are exercising or performing manual labor, tennis shoes are 100% appropriate. They provide the proper amount of traction and support, as well as protection of the feet for such strenuous activities. If you wear them at any other time you just look depressing and you might as well change your name to Tiffani and move to somewhere in middle America, because I am sick of having to see you scuffling around.
The next offender is cargo anything. Ask yourself these questions when deciding whether it is appropriate to wear cargo pants: Am I in the military? Is this part of a required uniform? Am I doing some sort of construction that requires several easily accessible pockets in which to keep nuts and bolts and the like? If the answer to any of those questions is “Yes,” then congratulations, you are in the very tiny minority of people who are allowed to wear cargo pants/shorts. If the answer to all of those is, “No,” then climb back in your time machine, remember that it’s not 1997, and you look like a giant douche.
The next is going to involve some explanation, so stick with me here: hats. Not all hats are bad, but not every hat looks good on every person, and, in fact, it takes a very specific type of person to pull off a hat, and that type of person changes depending on the chapeau. For example, a straw fedora only looks good on the absolute hippest of hipsters; those of you trying to emulate the hipster style with a hat you picked up at Urban Outfitters, might want to look in the mirror once more. See that goon staring back? That’s you; now take off the fedora. Newsboy caps, on the other hand, look good on exactly no one and should all be burned. That may sound extreme, but it’s for your own good.
The final item I will discuss has not always been an object of my disgust; in fact, I am ashamed to say, I wore this item for many years and so am using my knowledge to help others. I also know that I'll probably get in trouble with a lot of my friends for saying this, but I'm willing to take that chance, because I am an innovator. Offender #4: Flip flops. Like the cargo pant, flip flops are appropriate at exactly two times: the beach/pool and communal showers. Actually, I’m being generous with the beach/pool, but it’s understandable that one would not want to get their cute sandals sandy/chlorine-y. Not only do these “shoes” (if you can even call them that) make a horrible sound, but they make everyone’s feet look fat and flat and sad, like little pig feet sprouting from enormous cankles. I have been told on more than one occasion that I have beautiful feet (seriously, and, yes, I realize how creepy that compliment is), so if they make my feet look bad, they must be truly awful. For some reason, the professional women of New York have decided that flip flops are the most comfortable shoes in the entire world and immediately change into them upon leaving the office. To them I must say, “You have a good job; you are obviously successful, so why do you feel the need to look like idiot trash? Go buy some Tory Birch flats and be done with it.” Of course, not everyone can afford Tory Birch, myself included, but luckily we live in America where you can get a comparable knock-off of just about anything. I’m sorry if I sound like a snob (not really), but I’m sick of being ambushed by sadness and anger every damn day. Take some pride in your appearance, or at least try not to look like a blob of melancholy.

Rules, Rules, Rules

Guess what! I found this unpublished post on my computer and now you get to read it. Wouldn't wanted any of the 7 people that sometimes read my blog to go into withdrawals because I made bad decisions last week. Read and be delighted!

As I have said before, I went to private school (I'm a pretentious asshole, remember?), and, as is the case with many private schools, we wore uniforms. Starting in first grade and continuing all the way up to twelfth, I wore basically the exact same thing 5 days a week, 9 months a year, and I freaking loved it. Actually, at the time I didn't really think about it at all, but now I'm glad for the experience. Never once did I have to think about what I was going to wear to school. Sure I spent hours deciding what color ribbon (or scrunchie between 1995 and 1998) to wear and whether to bunch my tube socks at the ankle or pull them to the knee, but that was about the extent of my worrying for a good 12 years of my life. By the time I got to college, I actually had a hard time dressing myself for class [Note: this is a joke, if you didn't get that, stop reading here]. Not only did it save me a lot of time, but it saved my parents a lot of money, which they then funneled directly back into the school. My point is that, for the most part, uniforms were a good thing. They served not only as an equalizer, but also, and it pains me to say this because it's exactly what the school wanted, it helped me to define my character as something separate from the way I dress.
Of course, as a child I bitched and moaned when I would get in trouble for wearing non-uniform shoes or socks or jackets, and it only pissed me off more when my parents took the side of the school. How dare they?! I am their child, their baby, they should always agree with me. ALWAYS. Their "reasoning" (if you can even call it that) was that I knew what I was doing was against the rules and I did it anyway, so I deserved the consequences (which were usually nothing, I was a nerd, teachers generally let the nerds get away with more). Now, being a wise and mature 22 years old, I actually agree with my parents. It's amazing what a few years can do for your reasoning skills.
I've been ruminating on this because of a news story I recently read. Some first grade boy in San Antonio was suspended from school for wearing an earring and refusing to cut his hair. Now every idiot and his mother, including that beacon of stupidity, Perez Hilton, has jumped all over the school for their evil policy. People are mostly enraged because the little boy in question is growing out his hair for Locks of Love and how dare the school not allow him to help kids with cancer. Ok, here's the thing, I think Locks of Love is a fantastic organization. I have donated hair to them twice. I support Locks of Love. BUT it's against the school's policy for boys to have long hair. Also, what the hell is a first grade boy doing with an earring? My annoyance has nothing to do with his being a boy and everything to do with him being in first grade. Children with earrings are trashy. Sorry. Anyway, I realize that a lot of people view traditional gender roles as being on par with racism, but just get over it. Honestly, I think gender roles are wonderful. Sure they shouldn't dictate every single decision made in a person's life (I'd go so far as to say that almost nothing should hold that sort of power over a person's rationale), but they're nice. After all, how can I be proud of being a woman if being a woman is exactly the same as being a man? Also, androgyny creeps me out a little bit. Back to the issue at hand. The kid, or rather his parents, as he's only 7 so I don't hold him responsible, broke the rules. If they would like to change the rules to fit with their very lofty ideals, then perhaps they should engage in a rational discussion with the school. If they cannot persuade the school to change their policy, then they either need to switch schools or move on. Believe it or not, there are actually a lot of things in the world a lot more worthy of outrage than some kid getting in trouble in school because he broke the rules. Teaching your child to answer opposition with whining rather than reason is only setting him or her up to be a lazy, impotent adult with entitlement issues. Shocking as it may seem to the generation of "adults" currently raising small children, rules and boundaries are a good thing. They teach children that there are consequences for actions. I'll use my own life as an example here. I fucked around in college and now I'm having a hard time finding a job. Whose fault is that? As much as I'd love to say that it's UGA's fault for being located in Athens, GA (a line of reasoning that these people seem to think makes total sense), I know I can't. It's my fault. I could have studied and worked hard and done internships and been a research assistant, but I didn't, and now I have to live with the consequences. Obviously, a little boy having long hair and an earring does not necessitate his being unsuccessful in life, but rewarding him for breaking the rules might. Change is not gotten by complaining, but by being proactive. Rules are set in place for a reason; if you break them, you will be punished. If you sense that the rules are unjust, set about changing them in a calm, mature fashion. If you have enough free time to worry that much about something as insignificant as a school's dress code, you need to grow up and get some real problems. I don't even have real problems, and even I think you sound pathetic. Really the only part of the school's decision I disagree with is that the parents went unpunished. They knew that his having an earring and long hair was against the rules, and they chose to ignore that, which in turn teaches their son that if you disagree with a rule you can just break it, thus perpetuating the problem. It sounds to me like this poor kid's parents are using him as some sort of statement against authority because they weren't loved enough by their hippie-turned-yuppie parents. Also, the mom's name is Kandi, which basically says everything right there. Sorry if this turned into a bit of a rant, but, as someone who fully supports civil disobedience when it actually means something, this little bullshit really annoyed me. Go about your day.