In celebrity world, a girl squad is full of models and then there is one Lena Dunham. There’s always that one girl.
In reality/muggle world, a girl squad is full of Lena Dunhams and there is one Karlie Kloss. Or one un-talented version of Taylor Swift friend. There’s always that one girl.
Here is a story of a muggle squad being a friend to the sick, the poor, and that one skinny friend.
(it’s funny because i’m not going to write a part II, we all remember Christmas 2K14.)
Please bear with me as I recount my 3 nights, 3 days out of my week at home in the Land of Enchantment thus far.
it’s true i know i’m sorry.
Yes, I have a social media strategy. For myself. I wish I didn’t, but I do. Here it is.
MURDER AT THE NAIL PLACE
But not as uncomfortable as I am right now sitting down in my most comfortable clothes. Why am I uncomfortable? Let’s start with my Tuesday afternoon decision making process.
I may look like your every day basic pretentious Dallas millenial, ubering around the Uptown, snapchatting my every move, but that’s only because I am your every day basic pretentious Dallas millenial, ubering around the Uptown, snapchatting my every move.
Welcome to a two-part blog about being home for the holidays. If anyone read the blog about my parents visiting me for a *WEEKEND* then lawd knows me being home for two weeks unrolls enough material for a novel two whole blogs.
This “Part I” blog will cover the living situations I’m subjected to when I come back to live in the house I grew up in for a short period of time. “Part II” will cover things that happened outside the home, you know, like my parents’ form of currency (all but trading livestock and rubies) and handing out bottles of vodka for Christmas.
my parents trying to pay for things when shopping, whether they’re in Dallas or C-bad.
absolut-ely not a commonly gifted Christmas present.
but more on that later.
We’ll start from the very beginning. I flew from Dallas Lovefield to Midland Friday, Dec. 19. I did not know until moving to Dallas how *shocking* it was that I don’t fly directly into my hometown. Mind-blowing, I know, but somehow Metro Carlsbad, U.S.A., doesn’t have its own international airport yet. It’s coming. I’m sure.
Until then, us peasants have to fly into a nearby city, and drive to where I live. It’s like living in the 1800s.
I landed, and my BEST FRIEND WHOM I HAVEN’T SEEN IN TWO YEARS picked me up, so it was really exciting (hi ryan). I told him I was tired and jet lagged and that I needed Dairy Queen. He said I landed in the same time zone but okay.
We “brunched” the next day (we ate our first meal in Carlsbad at noon and subjected ourselves to wine-based margaritas). Then he came over to my house in its pre-big-family-dinner stage.
AKA the trenches of WWII. AKA before their pack-mule-daughter-slave has had a chance to clean the house for the big family dinner. Imagine an abandoned house-size storage unit.
If you’d like to see it for yourself, JUST WALK BY OUR HOUSE THAT IS BASICALLY A FISH BOWL. IT’S A HOUSE MADE OF HUMAN-SIZED WINDOWS.
THE NEAL RESIDENCE
And don’t get me started on the Wi-Fi.
our internet provider
Maybe it’s just my house, maybe it’s the whole town, I’ve yet to bang on neighbors’ doors asking for Wi-Fi services. I swear the Wi-Fi is conducted by a hamster running on a wheel somewhere in the corner of a closet in my home. A fat, tired hamster.
It’s so bad, that even though I have Wi-Fi turned on on my phone, I’ve used up all my data for the month. ALL OF IT. 100%.
If you want to drown your overcharge-data woes in food, then good luck to you when staying at The Neals. I swear, I have no idea what my parents eat when I’m gone.
Contents of the pantry:
And in case you don’t believe me, or care to see the meticulous organized fashion in which the pantry is arranged, please do see the image below.
child abuse???
The fridge is no better. It’s avocados, ginger root, an full, uncovered head of broccoli. All kinds of milk except normal milk. So almond milk, rice milk, goat milk, soy milk. I’m not kidding. And then like four thousand liquid vitamins.
Murder me.
This is a come-home-for-christmas nightmare. WHERE IS HOMEMADE CHEESECAKE, DIRTCAKE, ENCHILADAS OR SOMETHING I CAN REALLY HATE MYSELF FOR EATING?????????????? I DON’T COME HOME TO GO ON A DIET, I LEAVE HOME FOR THAT. HELP ME.
staring into the fridge.
No one is safe until there is a family dinner, after which there is a surplus of leftovers.
No one is safe when you’re sleeping either.
Or at least not in my room, where A WINDOW (CONCEALED BEHIND THE SHUTTERS) HAS BEEN OPEN SINCE I’VE BEEN HOME. So when a cold draft blew in last Tuesday, I GOT A COLD AND I HAD IT FROM WEDNESDAY NIGHT-SATURDAY. Why was the window open? TO ACCOMMODATE FOR A POWER CORD FOR THE FRONT PORCH CHRISTMAS LIGHTS.
HELP.
My mom actually made me the best homemade chicken noodle soup and I’m fine now but it’s hard, y’all, everything is hard.
Other than said events listed above, it’s been a lot of old movies and basketball watching since coming home. I decided I’m a ~*~ D i E h A r D ~*~ Cavaliers fan now. I even liked them on Facebook. I’ll probably blog about it. So it’s official.
I’ve also been googling the price of misc. cars. So apparently I’ve had a sex change since being home. #Basketball #Cars. #ok #bye
I’m getting emotional watching the little mermaid while writing this but I’m going to try to hold it together.
The other day I Instagrammed, asking what you wanted me to blog about and the responses were just ok. Just kidding they were awesome. Some were really funny, and some were potentially offensive to other readers, which is also really funny.
FuTuRe BLaWgz tO fOLLoW~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Filed under lifestyle
Locating a generic social media photo is easier than finding babies on your newsfeed.
I love talking about social media so let’s do that then. In fact let’s start with some context, or a “Hahtag Throwback Thursday,” if you will.
It’s July 2011. Father Neal and Augusta are in Lubbock, TX between the hours of 13:00 and 15:00. Father and daughter walk into a local grocery store, Leonard’s (RIP), for a few insignificant knick knacks. Augusta glances at her phone, then cheerfully announces, “I’m the mayor of Leonard’s on FourSquare!” Father ponders this and says, “And where does that get you in life?
~*~Fast forward to November 2014~*~
I can now answer my dad’s question. IT GET’S ME PAID, DAD. ACTUAL JOB-STATUS PAID. IN A REAL AMERICAN CITY AND EVERYTHING.
Social media is a real job, people. It’s a thing, much to my parent’s dismay. In fact, it’s really amazing and an act of God that I am where I am today, considering my parents were NOT going to let me move to Dallas without a some form of magical rent-paying machine. So when I told them my plan after college was to move to Dallas for an unpaid internship, they said absolutely not. Y’all, I cannot stress enough, it was a fight for about two months, of trying to convince my parents to let me move to Dallas without a job.
Thank God for the family therapist, who finally convinced them the ways of the world 2013. YAS MOM, YOU PAID A MAN TO CHANGE YOUR MIND TO CONFORM TO THAT OF YOUR THEN-22 YR OLD DAUGHTER, AND HE, I, AND DALLAS SEND YOU MANY THANKS.
So while we’re all gathered together on the topic of social media, here is where I insert common myths associated with my job.
i’ve actually never played farmville in my life.
This is annoying to no end, but I suppose that if I didn’t work in media, and had no idea how an agency operated, this is what I would think too. The fact is, I do not sit and tweet/post statuses all day. If I did that, I would very likely get fired, because doing that means none of the content was approved by editors or clients, WHICH MEANS DEATH.
Does sitting and tweeting even sound fun to anyone? That sounds horrid and boring and lonely. Don’t be the person that sits and tweets all day.
In all reality, I spend the LEAST amount of time inside Facebook/Twitter responding to things. The least.
Truth: It’s obviously a part of the job, but it is NOT The Job.
I haven’t discovered the “know everything there is to know about social media marketing” drugs yet, but as soon as they’re available at my local CVS, I’m handing them my insurance card and O.D.’ing immediately.
Social media changes more than updates in ISIS (too soon????). Every week (if not day/hour) a feature has been added, something has been removed, organic reach is harder on the newsfeed, and your S.E.O. is in danger of going extinct. And you have to stay on top of it all while crossing off those deliverables.
I subscribe to my favorite media sites to try to StAy -N- ThE KnOw, but don’t one time a coworker in client service discovered Hyperlapse before me and it was the worst thing that’s every happened to me in my entire existence and I don’t like going back to that dark moment.
Truth: I discover platform nuances and new work-around solutions (AKA things I didn’t know before) literally every single week, and I know there’s still more to learn and master in the realm of social media/newsfeed chasing.
As far as technology goes, let’s just say I.T. is rarely bored. I hate Apple/iOS updates even more than character limits. And one time I had to call a friend to help me use the TV remote, BECAUSE NO, IT IS NOT OBVIOUS TO PUSH THE “AT&T” BUTTON BEFORE USE OK IT’S JUST NOT I CAN’T.
Meaning, my job starts when I log into Facebook and type a status, then stops once its posted.
THIS COULD NOT BE FURTHER FROM REALITY. I DON’T EVEN USE FACEBOOK TO POST ON FACEBOOK.
The other day, a friend was visiting the office and he saw Microsoft Excel open on my computer. He was like, “YOU use excel????????”
my response.
Beyond just the creative phase of brainstorming and writing the content, there are hours (and eons) of strategy, analytics, and scheduling. In fact, the part your eyes see, the actual post/tweet/Instagram/update/share/comment, is the easiest (and most fun) part. It’s the GETTING IT TO YOUR EYES, at that exact (sometimes paid) place and time, and then measuring its success, the stuff that no one sees, is what really puts the food on my table.
Because what’s the point of putting out content if you don’t put it in the right place? Or if you don’t analyze its success/failures? Or predict future campaigns based on what’s in front of you? Can you eloquently explain that in laymen’s terms for a client or describe its imperative role in the brand’s overall content strategy? okimdonesorry but rly u should think about that.
Truth: I’m logged into the Microsoft office, Adobe suite, enterprise programs/tools to schedule/monitor/analyze content, CMS platforms, AND SPOTIFY every single day.
There was once a time in my life, a short time, a long time ago, when I thought that everything I read on social media was published by someone at that second. I literally thought someone was sitting in Huffington Post offices just tweeting away, all hours of the day and night.
I was talking to someone recently who thought the same thing.
nOooOoOOoOooOoo. Almost all brand social media (and blog) content is scheduled to go live months/weeks in advance, only after rigorous editing/approval processes. Which explains why Joan Rivers rose from the dead to post about the iPhone 6.
Truth: That Halloween tweet you just read was scheduled whilst that person was simultaneously texting his or her friends about 4th of July plans. This is why real-time marketing is a distinct, if not delicately artful, branding strategy.
I can’t speak for all social media marketers on this obvi.
But as for me, on any given day I could also be writing material for blogs or e-mail marketing, pulling/compiling analytics reports for blogs/e-mails/digital magazines, optimizing print content for digital through search engine optimization, researching the search volume and Google rank for keywords in an industry, auditing content, assisting in social media strategy in pitches to clients, or really anything random that pops up and involves internet.
Truth: Evernote and the reminders app are my best friends.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
PHEW OK I’M DONE I HOPE WE ALL LEARNED SOMETHING VALUABLE
jk i just tweet all day
Images via: blogs.smoda.elpais.com, thoughtcatalog.com, www.buzzfeed.com, car-memes.com,
Sometimes your weekends revolve around brunch and sometimes they revolve around your parents’ plane ticket times. My parents have visited twice in the past month (new babies in the family will do things like that), and needless to day it’s been all but dull.
BABY BOOMERS MEET ÜBER
iPhones are hard. IOS updates, hard. But downloading apps IS LITERALLY THE EASIEST THING THAT APPLE OFFERS US CIVILIANS. For whatever reason, the baby boomer generation struggles with the downloading of the apps, but no matter, for they birthed two girls very capable of this activity. Once the app was downloaded, all my sister and I had to do was explain to our parents what Über does and why it’s going to be beneficial to all of us this weekend.
Questions my mom had about “You-ber” (I gave up trying to teach them how to pronounce it):
The first time my mom used Über by herself, it was totally fine. The second time = ALL HELL HAD BROKEN LOOSE. Our conversation was something to the following via text:
“AUGUSTA. Uber does NOT work!!!!!!!!!!! Blasted all!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It keeps asking me to fill out a survey!!!!!!!! It won’t let me get a new car!!!! I don’t want to fill out a survey1!!!!!”
“Mom just choose 4 stars!”
“It won’t let me, It’s making me survey!!!!!!!!”
Über is hard. God didn’t put my parents on this earth to ride Übers around Dallas.
MY PARENTS HAVE A LOT OF FREAKING DOGS AND DON’T YOU DARE ASK ME TO NAME THEM
White people love their dogs, this is a common American theme we’re all aware of, and The Neals are no different.
OR ARE THEY????????????????????????????????
Here’s some context: My mom has a dog-addiction. We’ve acquired the reputation around our small town that if anyone doesn’t want their dog anymore, the Neals will take it. This has happened a lot. I can never keep track, but I think my parents currently care-take 7 dogs. Let the record show that I only genuinely like one of them, Doug the Pug Neal.
This is Doug Neal and he’s the dopest pug alive
So that leaves about 6 other miniature creatures running around my house who I either A) can’t even identify or B) don’t like or touch. The latest addition to my parents’ zoo is kind of hard to explain. It’s a white little maltese. This dog came from a family member who was unable to keep it any longer, around last Christmas.
Did I mention my parents are God-awful at naming animals? God freaking awful.
My mom took it upon herself to name the new maltese Baby Jesus.
YEAH. SO IF YOU’RE EVER IN CARLSBAD AND HEAR SOMEONE CALLING, “HERE BABY JESUS, COME HERE, BOY,” DON’T EXPECT TO SEE A PRAYING HUMAN IN THE DISTANCE, EXPECT TO SEE MY PARENTS SEARCHING FOR THEIR LOST MALTESE.
They call the dog “B.J.” for short. EFFING B.J.
I can’t even y’all I *actually* can’t even. My mom thinks this name is totally fine for a dog given on Christmas. Okay. Okay. Okay. I’m not a cool high schooler anymore so I guess things like this don’t taint my cool-factor anymore. Sigh.
Names of dogs past and present in the Neal family, in no particular order:
I consulted my sister and these are all the dogs that we can remember. My sister actually named a quite few that I don’t remember at all (RIP Wilbur and Annie I guess????).
SHOPPING WITH MY MOM AND SISTER
My mom loves to pretend we’re The Kardashians, and takes my sister and I shopping when she’s in town. Yesterday, we were at Milk & Honey, a local boutique targeted towards female millenials trying to find life in uptown, Dallas. My sister needed something to wear to her baby shower, or “Sip N See.” The sales associate brought out a hippie child dress and I had to tell her it was “too boho” for my sister, who is into classic styles, not trendy things (she later bought a fur vest but that’s besides the point). My mom then asked, “What would you name my style, Gus?!?!?????” I said mom, there is no word for your style.
She then said something really spot on, which happens sometimes. She said, “I think my style is like ‘electric New Mexican.'” I said YES. You are THE electric New Mexican.
Meanwhile, my dad is also in M&H with us, and finds a women’s hat, similar to the picture below.
“Augusta, can men wear this too?” says my father, wearing the hat.
TAKING MY PARENTS TO MY OFFICE FOR THE FIRST TIME
I’ve been lucky enough to have been in my current position at work for about a year and a half now. My parents visited the offices for the first time recently. I was a little worried about bringing them in because downtown Dallas can be over-stimulating if you’re born and raised from Carlsbad. I mean, there are CORNER OFFICES and IPHONE SIXES IN OUR PRESENCE.
When I went to pick up my parents in the lobby of my work building, my mom was wearing Dr. Dre Beats headphones.
I DON’T EVEN OWN BEATS. SHE WAS WEARING THEM AROUND HER NECK.
I was like, “Haha, mom, let’s maybe not wear those. Let’s put them in your purse.” She was like, “But they’re so cool???”
She put them in her purse sitll plugged into her iPhone, which was also plugged into her iPhone charger, because, “I NEED THEM PLUGGED TOGETHER, I LOSE THEM,” as I’ve been told.
As I was giving them a “tour” and walking by the editorial department of D Magazine, my dad literally called out to people while they were working, and said, “Need story ideas???? OIL AND GAS!!! DRILLING!!!”
me trying to go with the flow in this moment
MY PARENTS HAVE OPINIONS ON MEXICAN FOOD
“I knew we were in trouble when they brought out rolled enchiladas. Tortilla are made flat for a reason. Enchiladas should be flat.” -My dad about the top-rated cuisine at Mesero.
Dallas Mexican restaurants apparently pride themselves on gourmet portions, and quite frankly, it pisses the Neal parental unit off. In NM, you get real Mexican food in large portions, and EVERYTHING comes with a side of rice and beans. When you sit down, you’re given a few LARGE bowls of chips that are refilled constantly.
Not in Dallas. Not last night.
Mesero served chips in mason jar-sized silver canisters, and when my parents asked for more chips, they would bring out another silver canister of chips, taking away the other one away, even though it still had chips in it, to my parents’ horror.
the Neals trying to tolerate smaller portions at Mexican food dining in Dallas
TAKING MY PARENTS TO CHURCH
This morning, we braved the traffic on 75, and I took my parents to my favorite church ever, Watermark. I was a little worried about this, because my parents treat church services the same a going to the movies. They’re paying attention, but if they have a question/comment, they say it out loud full volume like they’re the only ones in the room.
Also, Watermark is just an overwhelming environment when you’re used to small-town church life. You’re literally surrounded by thousands of strangers, and you kind of feel like you’re at a rock concert, where you don’t know any of the words. It’s fine. Then Todd started preaching. I could see his message was really sinking in with my parents and it was super exciting for me that they got to experience something I do weekly.
Overall, it’s been really fun having my crazy parents in Dallas. Today they gave me money to go get a manicure before they left. I used the money to buy groceries. Adulthood is sad.
“Giving birth does not make one a mother…. Anymore than going to church makes one a Christian.” -My mom, who actually says pretty wise things for someone who named a dog B.J.
Images/gifs credits: blog.chegg.com, http://www.nastygal.com/, http://blog.chron.com/tubular/files/2014/10/teresa-table-flip.gif,
They say every day is a holiday. Sites like this will confirm that notion. What most people don’t realize, is that every day, somewhere in the world, is a white girl’s birthday. Every single day, dare I add “literally” to that statement.
As a white girl, I’m forced to attend a lot of events to celebrate said occasions. It’s despicable. I’ve decided to capture real-life, anecdotes, and life lessons events that happen when you celebrate a white girl’s birthday. Prepare yourself.
Oh, you thought there was only one type of running late? You’re so glad you have me. Allow me to list the types of late that it is actually possible to be on any given night with a white girl.
no
One of them will be wearing a matching sash and crown.
HOW many white guys does it take to get a non-blurry, decently centered photo, worthy for a white girl’s instagram? I’LL TELL YOU. A FREAKING MILLION. Nothing causes a bigger scene than asking a stranger to take 17 photos, all on different iPhones, all different poses. Bless everyone involved and may he who labors bear the fruits of his work.
WHO’S EVEN IN THIS PHOTO?? IT IS BEYOND BLURRY.Spotted: 8 long sleeve sequin mini dresses in skyscraper heels. Don’t get me wrong — I’m ALL about the power of a #GNO outfit that makes you feel fabulous and fierce. But it IS possible to be fab and fierce without cross dressing.
SAY NO TO KIM K CIRCA ’06
The surrounding 20-30 people will hate you but you love attention of all kinds, you Basic you.
white girls seeing each other at a bar
Blessed is he who begins a successful RAIDER POWER chant in public. That happens often, but those WOOP Aggie people are also infamous for disgusting things like this.
(spoiler alert: it was me last time). Is this a Mexican food restaurant? Is there a mariachi band around? No? THAT WON’T STOP A WHITE GIRL FROM ORDERING A “SKINNY MARG,” I TELL YOU THE TRUTH. Even if it’s the LEAST south of the border bar in Dallas, this is Texas, and almost everywhere serves freaking margaritas.
I really didn’t learn how to drink to match the environment until after college. Which is weird because basically everyone in my family is an alcoholic, so I don’t know how that life lesson hit me so late. I vividly remember sitting in Triple J’s, in Lubbock circa senior year of college, and ordering a vodka cranberry. AKA the undergrad white girl drink of choice. I look back at that and think “Okay then.”
#getthatthotabeer
help
So you’re at the bar. Where you’ve been for what seems like seventeen years. And you meet a guy about your age, who looks pretty cute, even in his flat bill hat. wait, am i into flat bill hats? you ask yourself.
After talking to said guy for a bit, he inevitably tells you his age, and he is 33. EDITORS NOTE: THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH BEING 33.
But your mind is blown because he doesn’t look a day over a young-looking 24, so you’re convinced this man is aging backwards, and in a few years he’ll be in his 40’s but look like a teenager. Also, only GOD knows what’s under that flat bill.
This is real life. Dallas is a small, small, small little tiny place, full of people who all know someone who knows someone who dated their college roommate on Tinder recently.
Ahh yes, there comes a time in the night when a white girl gets hit on (GASP!!!!) by “a creeper” and has to pretend to be grossed out, and needs another white male within the friend-group to “be my boyfriend pls!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
This tactic is uncannily flirty, however said fake boyfriend is usually gay.
Also known as people I’ve met recently:
good luck and happy birthday to all the white girls today is ur day good luck sky’s limit
images via: seventeen.com, remembermefanfiction.blogspot.com, pandawhale.com, www.flickr.com,
It's fine I'm fine 