November 13, 2014 · 12:00 AM

Who is Ira Roth?

I was recently requested to blog about budgeting. HAHA. ok.

me, setting up my budget.

I’m obviously a perfect candidate to blog about personal financing in the adultworld because I have ABSOLUTELY NEVER UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE done any of the following things:

  • Lost my debit card, especially not Halloween 2014
  • Accidentally signed up for a credit card at Marshalls
  • Forget to sign up for a toll tag, then forget to Google how to pay, then forget to pay
  • Over-drafted. Ever.

….idontwanttotalkaboutit. ihaveamarshallscreditcard. thestruggleisreal.

REALIZATIONS ABOUT MY FINANCIAL HABITS COMPARED TO THOSE AROUND ME:

1. Everyone and their dog has a 401K and or “roth” savings, and at least most people have dabbled in stocks and bonds.

like WUT?????

something tells me 401K isn’t a rapper

Was there a personal financial class in college that I missed???? Was I supposed to register in the Barnes & Noble self-help budgeting aisle for my graduation party????? How did I miss the “know everything there is to know about money in the adult world” memo???? CAN YOU NOT HAVE AN IRA ROTH ACCT???? YOU’RE MAKING ME FEEL BAD????? I NEED A HUSBAND???????????????????

2. Some people are saving their receipts

There is no moment of self-doubt and reflection quite like when shopping/eating with a friend, and she asks for her receipt and saves it in her wallet. *wait should I have saved my receipt?? is there a chance to win $3,000 by taking a survey on the back?? what is she doing???*

me, shopping with receipt-saver friend.

Apparently people get tax money back if they save their receipt??? WHERE DO YOU PUT ALL YOUR RECEIPTS??? HOW DO YOU KEEP TRACK OF THEM ALL AN ENTIRE YEAR??? HOW MUCH MONEY DO YOU ACTUALLY SAVE?? WHO TAUGHT YOU THIS???? DO YOU SOMEHOW MAKE YOUR RECEIPTS DIGITAL OR IS THIS ALL LITERALLY TANGIBLE PAPER BECAUSE I’M SCARED.

3. Then there are those who make Google Excel Docs and manually enter their expenditures

haha.

but like WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU MANUALLY ENTER IN THE AMOUNTS YOU SPEND ON A DAILY BASIS???????????????????????

I am so not one of these people that it actually hurts. I have a Mint account (more on that in three seconds) and that is a HUGE LEAP AND BOUND for me. I didn’t even really monitor it for about 8 months, I just had it so I could receive death-threat e-mails every week and feel suicidal looking at the “eating out/alcohol/shopping” trends.

My budget-saavy friends say Mint is basic and doesn’t even budget right. like WUT??? So instead, they do it all manually in Excel and keep track of every cent with just a calculator and their checking account like HAHALOLWUT??/ so much wut

4. Mint.com is not a fashion blog by the Olsen twins

jUsT cHeCkiN on MuH SpEnDiNG hAbiTs~!~!

I was once introduced to this magical witchcraft technology that keeps track of everything you spend and creates colorfully whimsical graphics and pie charts of your spending habits. This is called mint.com and it will not tell you what was on the ready-to-wear spring 2015 runways.

I use mint. The other day, I updated the budgets in it. In November, I’m doing this new thing where I ACTUALLY stick to budgets. So far it’s been easy because you can’t spend money when there are only $2 in your account #SAVINGSACCOUNTSAREREAL

Screen Shot 2014-11-13 at 7.25.41 PM

no i’m fine

About two weeks ago, I bought a $20 candle. For myself. It’s sitting next to me as I type. I just felt like I really needed a chic candle, and when you’re single, I subscribe to the theory of self-pamper. Sometimes you have to do weird things like buy yourself absurdly chic candles and flowers.

The exact candle I bought. Capri Blue in the boho luxe scent with mercury glass. I LOVE IT AND YOU CANNOT STOP ME.

Click here if you want the candle. Or don’t. I don’t get commission if you buy it. bye.

Image/gif creds: http://giphy.com, http://www.thedreslyn.com, bookriot.com, pandawhale.com, gifrific.com

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November 12, 2014 · 10:31 PM

Dear everyone, my job is real. Love, me.

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.

MYTH NO. 1: I SIT AND TWEET ALL DAY.

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.

MYTH NO. 2: I KNOW EVERY SINGLE THING THERE IS TO KNOW ABOUT ALL SOCIAL MEDIA CHANNELS AND TECHNOLOGY AND THE CLOUD AND THE PURPOSE OF LIFE.

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.

MYTH NO. 3: SOCIAL MEDIA STARTS AND ENDS ON THE PLATFORM.

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. 

MYTH NO. 4: SOMEONE JUST TWEETED THAT TWEET YOU JUST READ

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.

MYTH NO. 5: ALL I DO IS SOCIAL MEDIA 

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,

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November 9, 2014 · 8:44 PM

Weekends with the Parents

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):

  • What if I need to go somewhere, what do I do?
  • So the you-ber takes me there?
  • What if I need to just go back and forth during the day?
  • So you’re saying the You-Ber will just take me where I punch in on the text machine? (Baby boomers may oft use “text machine” when referring to the “iPhone”)

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.

It's fine i'm fine blog

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.

BABY. 

FREAKING.

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:

  • Doug
  • Baby Jesus
  • Charles Lindbergh- This is a miniature greyhound, whom I hate. He’s an ugly, worthless dog. I call him rehab, because he looks like an anorexic alcoholic. I’ve called him this since high school and when I’m home I pretend I like him by speaking to him in a high pitched tone, but I avoid touching him if I can. My whole family calls him Rehab now. Rehab Neal.
  • Rojo- This was a small, red poodle, who died some years ago. I used to dress him in doll clothes when I was little. I never really liked him, but he was whatever. RIP, lil red.
  • Pixie- This was a small, black female dog my mom found half dead then rescued back to health, because she is a saint. For whatever reason, we named it that of a stripper. She is also dead. My mom really loved Pixie, and for that reason, it makes me sad she’s dead, but you know, I’m also still really messed up over Khloe and Lamar’s break up, so you have to pick your battles and hardships.
  • Winston- He was a blind schnauzer. I didn’t like him either. He died.
  • Daisy- She was the only other dog my parents have owned that I liked. She was a black pug, and she didn’t give a SH!T about anything. R.I.P., QUEEN DAISY.
  • Patriot- WAIT JUST KIDDING, my parents owned a small red heeler mutt, whom I really really liked. Patriot was a female dog my dad found, but we all thought the dog was a male for about a month. My dad never accepted this, and referred to Patriot (named after my dad’s job, Patriot Oil Drilling) as a “he” until she died. I called her Poochy because it’s kind of similar to Patriot, and I’m weird. I would take her to sonic and feed her ice cream. We had to put her down because I guess she killed Pixie or something, which actually only makes me like her more, but whatever. I get sad talking about her so I’m stopping.
  • Tiger Tom- This dog belonged to my grandparents until they died. Tiger is a small, white, male. I want to like Tiger because my Granny did, and I loved Granny, but I really struggle liking this dog. It was hit by a car and still lived. This dog just like, won’t go away.
  • Trixie- Another stirpper name dog. I can’t remember if she came with that name or if my parents did that. Trixie is another small white dog who won’t die.

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, 

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October 24, 2014 · 11:23 PM

Anecdotes of a white girl’s birthday

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.

The different types of “late” that white girls run.

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.

  1. The standard “just running 30 minutes behind” late. A common kind of white girl. Always tell this girl the party is 30 minutes earlier than it actually is.
  2. The “I’m sorry I was at XX” late. This white girl is barely fitting you in her busy schedule. This might be her 3rd stop of the night, and it’s not her last. There will be other places she has to go before the world ends at 2 A.M. Plan on said person showing up HOURS late and having to text you 5 times while she’s on her way there to make sure you haven’t bar-hopped.
  3. The “Where are we going again?” late. There’s nothing like someone who doesn’t read texts or Facebook events.
  4. The “I’ve been here all along, but I ran into XX” late. THIS PERSON HAS ACTUALLY BEEN AT THE LOCATION FOR AN UNSPECIFIED AMOUNT OF TIME, BUT WITH OTHER PEOPLE, YOU’RE WELCOME.
  5. The “You guys started early!” late. Some people have a hard time drinking between the hours of 6-9 P.M. Because that blurs the lines between day drinking and night drinking, and those gray hour areas are why God invented Happy Hour. If your party starts between 6 – 9, most people won’t know what to do with their hands, and won’t show up until 11 P.M.

You’ll meet other girls at the bar who are also celebrating a birthday.

no

One of them will be wearing a matching sash and crown.

Taking pictures doesn’t require a masters but it should.

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. WHO’S EVEN IN THIS PHOTO?? IT IS BEYOND BLURRY.

The HAPPY NEW YEARS!/Kim Kardashian circa 2006 girls.

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

You will scream at the top of your lungs when a new friend arrives, like you haven’t seen them, or breathed, in  years.

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

Everyone will have obnoxious spirit for their alma matter.

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.

Someone will be drinking a skinny margarita.

(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

You’ll meet actual Benjamin Button.

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.

You’ll meet a stranger who you have mutual friends with and your brain will explode.

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.

“Pretend you’re my boyfriend!”

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.

People will tell you their names but you’ll name them yourself.

Also known as people I’ve met recently:

  • Beard #1
  • Beard #2
  • Beard #3
  • Beard #4 (yes I met 4 bearded men in one night recently, it was exhausting)
  • Kendra Scott girl
  • Really wants to wash her hands girl
  • Don’t block her view of the TV lady
  • Man with baby
  • Guy from Not Somewhere In Texas
  • Spiked hair
  • He has a girlfriend guy

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, 

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October 24, 2014 · 1:42 AM

What It’s Like To Be a Girl and Shop For the Office Christmas Party Dress

This post is originally from my old blog, Fashion Food Frivolity. I’m repurposing it for this new blog because I think I’m hilarious. 

Christmasparty

It’s 5:01 P.M.
Your coworker/roommate comes up to you.
Talks you into going to a boutique.
You had plans to work out and cook a healthy dinner.
And read a book series that was cool five years ago.
#HungerGames.
But you’re easily persuaded into spending money you don’t have on clothes you don’t need.
You drive to the boutique, solely to be support and not buy anything.
You try on 18 dresses.
Everything makes you look like a hampster in a prom dress.
You try on the boring white sequin dress.
This dress says I’m twenty something and I’m going to a Christmas party. 
You try on the hot pink dress.
This dress just says I’m twenty something. 
You sigh.
You just need a dress that says I’m young, sophisticated, sort of, but mature, but still enjoy spongebob, but can keep that on the DL, unless someone else admits it, which is usually a guy, and by the way I’m single, but not like desperately single, just casually single, but not needy, unless I like you, these sequins are not trying hard right?
But they are. The sequins definitely are trying hard.
Sequins scream, it’s the holidays! I’m a white girl! 
And then the sales associate breaks the news: “Everything in the store is 20% off in 30 minutes.”
“DONE AND DONE,” you exclaim to your roommate. And the whole boutique.
Or do I want this dress?
Now comes the self doubt and indecisiveness.
If everything is 20% off, now you need to see everything.
You try on seventy nine more dresses.
There is a line of annoyed twenty somethings and moms that think they’re twenty something wearing smaller sizes than you behind you.
Waiting on you to finish trying clothes on.
The store is playing really stressful, fast Christmas music.
Do I like the clothes or am I just trying to get away from “Santa Clause Is Coming to Town–the remix”
The sales associate says she LOVES you in that dress.
Of course you do.
Then your roommate brings you the “Tuxedo dress.”
You think YES.
You try it on.
It’s everything you could never want in an office Christmas party dress.
Politely, you ask the associate, “Hi how the hell do I wear this.”
“Oh, the owner of the store has it on, she’s right over there.”
The owner of the store is a Victoria’s Secret model.
The music gets louder.
SANTA CLAUSE IS COMING TO TOWN AND YOU WILL NEVER LOOK LIKE THAT IN A TUXEDO DRESS.
You don’t want to buy the sequin dress but you don’t want to wear what you own.
[insert scene of Maude Apatow in the closet screaming expletives at her clothes, which has apparently been deleted off of the internet because I can’t find it]
You try on the burgundy maxi dress that you die for.
You’re not Rachel Zoe.
It won’t make sense at the office party.
Sequin holiday dress it is.
You still want the tux dress.
Maybe it can be your plus one.
You buy two jackets.
Everyhing is like a thousand percent off.
You still spend over a hundred dollars.
It’s okay you tell yourself.
It’s like a Christmas present to myself from myself you tell yourself.
You get a free gluten free cookie from the sales associate before going to the register.
Except it’s not free.
You’ve been to this boutique at least twice just this month alone.
You more than paid for that freaking gluten free cookie.
You exit the store.
A guy is walking in as you’re walking out.
Your car is right in front of the store door.
He comments on how bad you parked.
Awkward laughter.
You drive home.
It’s now 7 P.M.
Enjoy your sequin dress.
And everyone else’s.

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October 24, 2014 · 1:04 AM

Truths about blogging

Any blogger will admit to feeling the following things. Or they will feel it, but not admit to it. Or I’m the only blogger in the world who feels these things and I’ll die alone.

  1. I’m embarrassed about 98% of my blogs.
  2. Self-deprecation (or self-sabotage?) is required.
  3. Hearing “I’m the biggest creep, I like all of  your blogs” never gets old, and it’s not considered “creeping.”
  4. It’s awkward saying “Thank you” when someone says they love your blog. thanks i love my blog too, i’m rly obsessed with me.
  5. You don’t forget it when a guy tells you he “fell for you through your writing.” This is not often, because get real, but it happens.
  6. Asking certain friends (you know, the ones who get it) to read your blog and make sure it’s actually funny before posting it is a common, insecure, and encouraged practice.
  7. You automatically bond with other people who blog.
  8. A friend who likes your blog on Facebook is a true friend and many blessings will rain upon them.
  9. Blogging takes a really really really long time, and then once it’s published, I read it 10 more times.
  10. I read my old blogs when I can’t sleep. And I laugh. And I cringe. And I go to sleep.
  11. When a friend you haven’t talked to in months texts you asking for a link to an old blog, it’s like you talked yesterday.
  12. You don’t want everyone to read your blog (parents, grade-school teachers, mom’s friends, current/potential employers, ex-boyfriends, crushes, gyno, neighbor, cashier at Kroger), but you still somehow want to go viral.
  13. You’ve thought about contributing to BuzzFeed but it sounds exhausting and if you’re not famous after your numbered list of gifs after the first two attempts, there’s no hope. It’s all rigged. Blame public relations.
  14. You both put a lot of scrutiny on other bloggers, but also avidly support them, because you get it. youjustgetit.
  15. All of your friends commonly tell you, “DON’T BLOG OR TWEET THIS,” because you are that girl and you know it.
  16. You blog and tweet things you know you shouldn’t, whether for the sake of a career or sheer embarrassment  but you do anyway, because the story is just that funny.
  17. You do questionable things solely because “it could be good blog material.”
  18. Everything inspires a blog post. And by everything, I do mean everything. Literally. Everything.
  19. You’ll be inspired to blog at inconvenient times. IT’S 11:33 PM BUT I JUST THOUGHT OF A BRILLIANT BLOG AND I CAN’T SLEEP UNTIL IT’S DRAFTED.
  20. You’ll wrestle with Google Analytics and try to bribe your 46 closest friends with a job in anything remotely-advertising related. (coding is hard help).
  21. There is no such thing as being satisfied with the design/template/color palette, but your blog ideas can’t wait on your poor design skills to be published.
  22. You semi live in fear of being sued for using a gif/photo from the internet without properly giving credit. You use the gif/photo anyway.
  23. A boyfriend isn’t a boyfriend unless he reads every single blog and worships it and you and you writing it.

23 seems like a fitting place to stop. Be on the lookout for a new blog bye.

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October 24, 2014 · 12:47 AM

How To Become a Texas Resident. No, but really.

Becoming a Texas resident is simple. Just follow these tried-and-true steps from someone with firsthand experience.

Step one: Vehicle registration and inspection.
Gather your relevant paperwork and Google maps your way to the nearest sketchy auto shop that will rip you off by doing something Texans call “inspecting your vehicle.” Your car will ALMOST be able to pass this test. But as it turns out, you won’t. You definitely won’t. Why? You’re a gangster. You ride dirty on the streets in your less than 25% window light transmission tint.

Non-Texas residents rolling around Dallas without having their windows inspected.

Step two: Pay four thousand million dollars de-tint and re-tint your windows.
You will have to take off work for this. Then spend a Saturday afternoon there. Because de-tinting means re-tinting and it takes too long to do it all in one trip. Also, this will be a hundred thousand dollars out of your weekly Mint spending allowance. Not that you follow it anyway.

Step three: Go back to get inspected and not have Texas insurance
OH YEAH LOL you didn’t know you were supposed to have Texas auto-insurance??? Lolz like duhh who DOESN’T know that???? WHO doesn’t KNOW that???????? Now you can call God knows who to get your New Mexico insured vehicle transferred to some Texas policy. This is exciting because it gives your parents another opportunity to ween your financial needs off of their payroll. ENJOY ADULTHOOD!! AUTO INSURANCE IS $65-100 PER MONTH!!!

Step four: Get auto insurance in Texas and print out a crap ton of papers to prove it to everyone throughout the following steps

Step five: go BACK to the FREAKING auto place 
The staff of this establishment OFFICIALLY HATES YOU. But at least your inspection is complete and you finally have all the necessary paperwork needed to follow the next steps.

Step six: Lose the necessary paperwork needed to follow the next steps.
The kind woman on 500 Elm street breaks the news to you. You’re missing the “out of state” inspection paper. Okay. Ok. O. K. ok. k.

Step seven: Go. Back. To. The. Inspection. Shop.
They claim they gave it to you. YET WHY DON’T YOU HAVE IT. That’s okay because the auto shop inspection car place and vehicle registration office are both downtown. After retrieving the correct paper from the auto shop, you go back to the registration office.

Step eight: Check your glove box and find the paper you needed all along.
It’s fine.

Step nine: WTF is a lienholder???????
I graduated a four year college and managed to scrape by without being properly taught the definition (or existence) of the word “LIENHOLDER.”

You will be asked this by the kind woman at the registration office.
You’re so close to getting your vehicle registered, you. can. almost. taste. it.

You call your mom. You call your dad. No answer. No answer. The lady is looking at you with sympathy. Oh, poor spoiled newly grad white girl. Lienholder, lienholder, if you know if you’re a lienholder, good for you, if you know if I’m one, THAT MAKES ONE OF US.

Step ten: The registration lady decides it’s not that big of a deal and tells you to get in line.
Pay another unexpectedly high amount for two Texas metal plates.

Step eleven: BASK IN THE GRATIFYING FEELING OF FINALLY OWNING THE COVETED TEXAS LICENSE PLATES.
Walk out of the office feeling elation. Tweet that you’re almost done with the New Mexican turns Texan process.

You’re not a New Mexican, not yet a Texan.

Step twelve: Put them in your car and never actually get to putting them ON your car

Step thirteen: Ask off work to go to the DMV
Now here comes the exciting stuff!!! Getting the ID!! It’s finally happening IT’S HAPPENING!!!

Step fourteen: Enter the wrong location in Google maps
How did that happen? No really. How. Did. That. Happen.

Step fifteen: Parallel park and use all your quarters to pay for an hour and a half of parking
Quarters lost a little of their luster after leaving the dorms freshmen year and not having to pay for laundry BUT STILL. $1.50 DOWN THE DRAIN.

Step sixteen: Realize it’s the wrong address.
HAHA YAY.

Step seventeen: Put the right address into your Google maps.

Step eighteen: Sign in online to the DMV
I’m so on the ball! You tell yourself. Score!

Step nineteen: Get UNCANNILY lost driving to the right location.

Step twenty: Lose your spot in line at the DMV.

Step twenty-one: Find yourself in an exit only lane to Houston.
GAWD HELP US ALL.

Step twenty-two: Curse to Siri out loud alone in the car and finally arrive to said destination 48 minutes later
Whatever. You made it. You’re alive. You’re free. World peace.

Step twenty-three: Go through the ID process three times
Congratulations! A colonial woman has time-machined her way into 2013 and landed in your local Department of Motor Vehicle office. She will be assisting you with your final steps to becoming a Texas resident today. She has never used electricity, but she will DEFINITELY be entering your data into the computer program today.

Okay, I’m a patient person. I am. Or at least I hate confrontation, don’t have a backbone, can’t stand up for myself, especially to strangers, and often times that’s just as good as patience. My personality is so laid back and care free, I practically invite people like this to screw up, just because they know I won’t say anything.

But what KILLS ME is the picture that is my future ID. Now, I’m a girl, so I’m obligated to be a little vain when it comes to the face that will have to be inside my wallet every day for the rest of my young life.

The first time my picture was taken, it was as if the Texas resident angels looked down upon me and shed their goodness and light.

What my first photo for my Texas ID looked like.

I did the awkward machine signature, did the thumbprint thing, ya da ya da. The woman prints out the ID with my first name as my last name. It’s fine. Process round two.

The second time I took my photo, it wasn’t as great, but whatever.

My second picture taken for my Texas ID. Not my best, kind of quirky, but whatever.

Whatever. whatever. Signed the machine, thumbprints, colonial woman enters the data, lalala okay. okay.

NAMES. STILL. WRONG. Three-four seemingly colonial women are now crowded around the computer technologies in efforts to order the names right.

MUST. TAKE. PICTURE. AGAIN.

The third picture taken for my Texas ID. This is only a fraction of an exaggeration.

After the lady shows you your picture, you shudder, but you don’t have the heart to make her take your picture AGAIN. You deal with it internally.

Step twenty-four: Become a Texas Resident

You’re finally a TX resident. Bask.

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