An OBG PSA: Put Down the Duckie

    
There's a fire in your house, what would you go back for?

Your morning alarm goes off, what's the first thing you reach for?

It's late and you're in bed, what nighttime ritual do you perform before hitting the hay?

You're in a restaurant enjoying good food, good beer and good company, what's in your hand?

Complete this sentence, "I would be lost without..."


If you answered "my smart phone", or any version of that phrase to any of the above questions, guess what, folks? 

YOU'VE GOT A PROBLEM!!

Yup, that's right, you're an addict. Consider this your intervention. On behalf of your loved ones, I implore you...

PUT DOWN THE GODDAMN DUCKIE!*

*The duckie being your smart phone, and in the vid below, "play the saxophone" can be substituted with just about any activity. Like cooking. Or driving. Or having sex.

And for those of you who aren't addicts, you're still gonna wanna watch this clip. Trust me.

What does Jane Curtain, Pee Wee Herman, Mark Ingram and Jeremy Irons all have in common?

They're in this clip.

Curious. Does this pic creep anyone else out? I fear for Snuffy's trunk. (click to enlarge. TWHS!!)

You're kind creepy, Keith.

Step away from the pickle: Cohabitating, OBG style.

                 

So you've chosen to cohabitate, huh?

Cohabitation isn't for everyone. Some people prefer the LAT route. Regardless of your reason for choosing cohabitation, whether it be because you love your honey bunny, lovey wovey soooooo much, or because you're broke and can't afford separate living arrangements, every couple should establish some guidelines prior to making the big jump. Living with another person can be very traumatizing and quite often aggravating.

To help you with the transition, I present:

A GUIDE TO COHABITATION: OBG STYLE

(These guidelines, while written in a manner that would indicate that they are solely intended for men, are intended to be unisex. History has shown that OBG prefers cohabitating with men, therefore it would be only natural that these guidelines be written for them. However, these guidelines can easily be reworked to target women. So take heed, ladies.) 

Please note, these guidelines will not work for everyone. Please feel free to adjust them to your individual needs. However, if you ever find yourself cohabitating with OBG, you're going to want to know these like the back of your hand.

Let's begin.

Time and Space. All people need personal time and personal space. This rule applies to individuals who have chosen to couple-up as well. Sometimes it's hard to tell when one needs some alone time. Generally speaking, hissing and spitting is a good indication that your sweetie could use some space. If you're trying to have a conversation with your honey and she glares at you, snaps at you, neglects to respond, and/or stabs you with a Bic ballpoint pen, your best course of action is to end all attempts to interact, slowly back away, and try again later. Pushing your love-bug into spending time with you or trying to engage in snuggling at in inopportune moment is a recipe for disaster. In time, if you are patient and observant enough, you will learn to recognize the subtle signs of your schmoozie-whoozie's moods. Until then, it is best to inquire about your sweetie's state of mind prior to making your move.

Love Bunny will CUT A BITCH STAB A DICK! 
(Source) 
     

In the Kitchen. All people need to eat. As a couple, you will be tempted to eat together. Proceed with caution.  Not everyone likes to eat their meals at the same time of day. You may find that your smoochie-poo tends to eat breakfast at 10:00 am while you eat breakfast at 6:30 am before heading off to work. While a three and a half hour difference doesn't seem like much, there's a pretty good chance your meal schedules are out of sync. Don't allow this to become an issue. If Honey Bunny wants to eat dinner at 9:00 pm and you're hungry at 6:00 pm, go ahead and eat when you're hungry. You and Love-bug can always enjoy your weekend meals together.

Furthermore, as a couple, you'll be tempted to do your grocery shopping together. Don't do it. People tend to have specific strategies they employ when tackling the chore of grocery shopping. Chances are you and Snuggle-Bear will have different strategies. Attempting to shop together will only aggravate one or both of you. Try to do your grocery shopping separate and at times that are convenient to each of you. If, as a couple, you decide that Sugar-plum will be responsible for the acquisition of food, make a point of creating a grocery list together. Chances are you'll be craving some Chunky Monkey, but unless you tell Baby-Cakes, she won't pick it up for you. It is inevitable that you will be unaware of your burning love for pickles until your googleybear puts it on the list. DO NOT make the assumption that she will be willing to share her tangy dills with you. Favorite foods are exempt from sharing. If you must have pickles, ask Love-bug to pick up two jars. The same rule applies to chocolate. Honey will not want to share her chocolate with you. On the other hand, your chocolate is fair game. This may sound like a double-standard, but it is not. Keeping your sweetie stocked with chocolate will make life happier for everyone.

This shit only happens on first dates. And in the movies. 
(Source)
   

In the Bedroom. Do not assume that the bedroom will be a happy, romantic love-nest others tell you it will be. As a couple, sharing a bedroom presents its own problems. You and your sweetums are likely to have different ideas as to what is acceptable to do in the bedroom (for further reading, see Sex). Honey-Bun may believe that it is entirely appropriate to do any of the following while in bed; eat, drink, sleep, read, draw, paint, talk on the phone, check her email, clip her toenails, paint her toenails, and watch movies. On the other hand, you may believe that while in bed, it is appropriate to only do the following; watch TV, sleep, fart, and get-it-on. As you can imagine, these differences may become a source of contention for you and Snookums. It is inevitable that you will need to make some compromises in this situation. Pooky might be willing to give up snacking on Triscuits while in bed and giving herself pedicures in your love-nest if you refrain from insisting she "catch a whiff" (for further reading, see The Bathroom and Other Bodily Functions).

It is highly unlikely that you and your squiggle-button will have the same bedtime. You might have the ability to fall asleep seconds after your head hits the pillow while your schmoopy is an insomniac who tosses and turns until 4:00 am. Do not expect that you and Love-Bug will be peacefully spooning in bed every night at 9:00 pm. This is unrealistic. Unfortunately, depending on how out of sync your sleep schedules are, separate sleeping arrangements may be necessary. Furthermore, if you must wake up early, do so with the least amount of disturbance to your sleeping angel-face. Go about your morning routine as quickly, as quietly, and with as little light as possible.

With an innocent flick of the switch, sleeping Angel Face instantly transforms into Vampire Bitch. "WHO TURNED THE FUCKING LIGHTS ON?" 

(Source) and (Source)

   

Entertainment. You may be under the impression that you and Love Muffin have the same tastes in music, movies, hobbies, sports and TV shows. This is not true. Chances are both you and your honey bunny stretched the truth on your preferences. Don't hate on each other. This deception can be blamed on pheromones. During your first days of dating, you and Googleybear wanted to have as much in common with each other as possible, with the end result being that you both would think that you were made for each other. Over time, however, you will discover that your tastes differ drastically. You may feel compelled to mock Love-Bug's love of indie punk rock. Try to refrain yourself. Hurting your honey's feelings, while initially entertaining, will inevitably end badly for you. iPods and earbuds were invented to maintain peace in relationships. Make sure you both use them when in the presence of each other. If anything, they will prevent Snuggle-Bear from using a machete to hack your $1500 speakers to pieces after being forced to listen to your entire collection of Jack Johnson albums.

When it comes to the "good" TV, the rule of first come, first served applies. Do not attempt to interrupt Pookums' ANTM marathon to play Xbox, regardless of how lame you think Tyra Banks is. When these situations arise, you have two options, one, go watch TV in another room, or two, enjoy the rare opportunity to watch young, hot, scantily clad models parade across your HDTV. When choosing movies to see as a couple, it is important to work out an arrangement acceptable to both of you. If you insist that Cuddle Buddle Biddle Bear has to watch Avatar, don't complain when she wants you to see 500 Days of Summer. If you can not agree on a suitable arrangement, it may be necessary to find movie buddies outside of your coupledom. 

 Having never established the First Come, First Served rule, Love Muffin

would do whatever it took to get her Kardashian fix.

   

Decor. Your style will never be as sophisticated as Love-Bug's. All of your good taste was used up when you chose Love-Bug as your Honey Bunny Pumpkin Face. Let her do all the decorating and be sure to thank her for it. After all, she knows that the reason your bed feels like a comfy, cozy, silky cloud has everything to do with goose down and thread count. You don't even know what a thread count is.

He thought the cardboard box printed bedding was ironic.

Honey Bunny showed him the real meaning of irony. 

(Source)

    

Sex. Sex, in any relationship, is extremely important. It is very crucial to establish a compatible sexual routine. It is imperative that you and Sweet Peach Jelly Bean discuss both of your sexual expectations prior to cohabiting. DO NOT assume that your sexual history with Snooki Wooki Huggy Bear is any indication of what your sex life will be like during cohabitation. Prior to cohabitation your sex life was most likely based on raging pheromones, alcohol, and opportunity. Once you start sharing your bed, you may discover that you enjoy wake-up sex while your snuggle-bear, the insomniac, likes to get-it-on in the evening, or mid-day, or late-morning, but not early morning. This is something you will need to work out with each other. Regardless of time of day, it is good to know that sexual relations should never occur while Sugar Lips is feeling fat and bloated as a result of a large meal, PMS, or constipation. These are not things you can inquire about. If your honey fails to respond to your advances, it is safe to assume that she is experiencing one of the above.

You may also discover that you prefer to engage in coitus while in bed. This can be a problem if you and Kittentits have different sleep schedules. You may also discover that Honey believes the bed is no place for coitus and would instead prefer to engage in sexual activities in the living room or on the stairs or in the car or in the kitchen, on the counter top smeared with chili grease that causes a week-long ass rash. Do not, under any circumstances, judge each other. You will need to work out any sexual differences you have in order to ensure the success of your cohabitation. This will require that you be open to new ideas, suggestions, and positions. Experimentation is key. Remember science class? You conducted experiments in science class so you could learn. Same idea here.

Kittentits is feeling fat and will have none of that. 

(Source)

    

The Bathroom and Other Bodily Functions. It is very important to preserve the magic while involved in a cohabitating relationship. The easiest way to do this is to establish some bathroom and bodily functions guidelines. When using the bathroom, the door should remain closed. At all times. There are no exceptions. Bathroom time is private time. And if one finds it necessary to engage in certain solo activities while in the bathroom, or in any other room, one should ensure that the door(s) is(are) locked prior to engagement. Furthermore, one should not expect shower sex to become a regular occurrence while cohabitating. You may think that it would be a good idea to sneak into the bathroom while Lady Love is rinsing and repeating, but this is not the case. Despite what you see in pornos, movies, and music videos, shower sex is rarely sexy.

There is a time and place for bodily functions. In the vicinity of your honey is neither the time nor the place. This is very important. If you must fart, belch and/or pick you nose, you should do so while alone. Or while with your best buds. You do not have sexual relations with your buddies. If you want to continue having sexual relations with Fuzzy Bubble Funny Bunny do not behave in her presence the way you would with your buds.

I am not your bro, yo, I'm your ho, and these legs will not part if ye farts 
(Source)
      

Chores. Most grown adults will find ways to pay other people to do their chores for them. This is because chores are boring. If you and Love Monkey Honeypie Sugar Britches are sans kids and do not have the resources to hire a maid, you will find it advantageous to share the responsibility of chores. It would be unwise to use your employment as an excuse to evade chores. The upkeep of your home should not be the sole responsibility of one person in the relationship. You and Honeybunches Buttercup Cookie Duck agreed to cohabitate together. You agreed to share your living quarters with each other. Therefore, you should expect to share the responsibility of the upkeep of said living quarters. This is non-negotiable.

 Sugar Britches was feeling resentful, so she devised a scheme that would ensure 

she'd never have to mow the lawn again, and maybe get a new vacuum cleaner too. 

(Source)

And there you have it. I hope this guide has been informative and will help to make your transition into cohabitation less painful. 

With any luck, you and Snuggle Bug will have a very long and happy cohabitating relationship together.

        

Good luck.

To Cohabitate or to Not Cohabitate?

That apparently, is the question.

When I first watched the movie Frida, one thing about Frida Kahlo's relationship with Diego Rivera really struck me. (Okay, well, a few things struck me, but I am only going to write about one thing here.) Kahlo and Rivera were married, but they did not cohabitate. In other words, they maintained separate residences. Often times they lived adjacent to each other. To be honest, the first time I heard about this, I was intrigued, but we are talking years ago so I quickly forgot about this. I recently (as in within the last four months) discovered that another famous couple also chose to maintain separate domiciles, Helena Bonham Carter and Tim Burton. I am a huge fan of their work, and when I heard they did not live together, I was again intrigued.

I proceeded to do a little research, and I discovered that not only are there millions of couples out there who do this, but there is also a term for it. It is called "Living Apart Together" (LAT), and it is a concept that is said to have originated in the Netherlands. Couples cite numerous different reason for choosing to live apart. Some LAT couples do so because of their jobs. Some do so because they have children from a previous marriage and combining households would be disruptive. Some LAT couples, like Kahlo and Rivera, live apart in order to pursue extra-marital affairs. And some couples just do it because they do not like the thought of living with someone else.

 These two were not about to give up their

whoring ways for anyone.

Let me explain why this whole LAT thing has me so intrigued. I lived with someone, off and on, for six years out of our nine year relationship. During those six years I learned more about the other person than I ever wanted to know, I gave up more of my personal space and time than I ever wanted to give up, and I had to compromise more than I was comfortable with in regards to decor, routine, and lifestyle. Of course, at the time, I was not aware of any of this. It was not until moving out that I had such a revelation.

I have never considered myself to be a selfish person, however, I have always known that I am a very private, introverted individual. I enjoy my alone time and I require a lot of it. I like the freedom of being alone. I like the freedom of being able to pick up my art supplies at 2 o'clock in the morning and drawing for three hours while in bed. I like the freedom of being able to hop in the car and run to the grocery store or the bookstore on a whim. I like the freedom of being able to eat a quickly thrown together dinner at 9 pm while reading a book, watching TV, and listening to the latest album I downloaded. Living with someone else makes this very difficult to do. Plus, I'm an insomniac, and being an insomniac and living with someone else do not work well together.

I am also a very visual person, and having things around me that I find to be visually pleasing makes me happy. It is very difficult for me to live with someone whose own style contrasts greatly with my own. As an artistic person, aesthetics is very important to me. To cohabitate with someone(s) who has little regard for colors, shapes, patterns and style, is highly aggravating. And to sacrifice my visual pleasure because of someone else's lack of taste is something I am not necessarily willing to do.* 

Some people argue that when you marry or just commit to another, you should then gather up your two separate lives and create a new, joint life together... as a couple. And you will then live happily ever after, together, forever. But of course, not without a lot of work. And not without some arguing and disagreeing and compromising. Once upon a time, I believed this as well, but as I venture through my journey of self-discovery, I am beginning to believe this less and less.

 See what these two have to say about their living

arrangements: Mr. and Mrs. Mad Hatter.

I have always maintained the philosophy that the most important thing in life is to be happy, regardless of what that entails. In my opinion, if you are happy, then your life is fulfilled. Call me naive, or just plain stupid, but I would rather be happy in life than living to just "make things work". I don't necessarily believe that one needs to make numerous compromises and give up parts of themselves in order to commit to another person. In fact, I think life would be better for everyone if people didn't feel forced to compromise and reluctantly sacrifice the things about them that make them unique individuals.

When people first meet, they meet as individuals. Throughout the dating process, people are more than willing to make some sacrifices in order to get to know each other. They go to dinner, they go to shows, they rent movies and cuddle on the couch. As time goes by, their lives become more and more entwined with each other. In a perfect world, the two individuals will mesh perfectly together with very little disturbance to their lifestyles. In reality, many couples give up a lot of who they were as individuals for the sake of the relationship. In my opinion, this is one of the most damaging things that can happen to a relationship.

When you give up your hobbies, your lifestyle, the things that make you happy, you become an entirely different person. You are no longer the individual that your partner met and fell in love with. Over time the magic, the excitement, the novelty disappears. There are numerous tips and guides out there that advise couples on how to recapture the magic and excitement in their relationships. Instead of trying to recapture something lost, how can couples prevent the loss in the first place? What is it about committing to someone for the long-haul that creates mundane relationships and complacency?

I know what did it for me. For me it was getting to know the other person too well. It was getting to know all the little details, bad habits and annoyances of the other person. It was about hearing all the same stories over and over and over again. It was experiencing the same things as the other person, living the same life and then having nothing new and exciting to talk about. It was about giving up the things that make me me. It was about feeling obligated, through no fault of the other person, but just by being in a relationship, to do everyday things together. All the time. It was the obligation of eating meals together. The obligation of finding things to do on the weekends together. It was the suffocating, confining, panicky feelings an introverted loner feels whenever they have to spend a majority of their time with other people, regardless of who they might be.**

Things didn't work out quite as well for this famous

LAT couple.

I admire the LAT couples of the world. I am envious that they can afford to maintain separate living quarters, but more importantly, I envy their ability to recognize the importance of preserving their relationship by preserving their individual lives and happiness. And if by doing so they have to live apart, I applaud them for their strength, confidence and trust in each other to make it work. Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera being the exception, of course. Their relationship was so destructive and toxic, I do not believe anything could have really helped their relationship to succeed. But maybe that worked for them. Different strokes and what have you.

Further reading:

Husband and wife find joy in living apart by Judith Newman

Single but Married: When Couples Choose to Live Apart by Allison Ford

Couples that live apart... stay together by Rosemary Bennett

Living Apart: The Key To Wedded Bliss? by Catie Lazarus

Living Apart Together by Carrie Sloan

Just What Modern Romance Needs: "Living Apart Together" by Gary Picariello

* This came off as sounding extremely pretentious. I apologize for that as I am very much not a pretentious person. Although at times I have my moments. It's just that I know what I like and I love what I like. And having personal preferences is not something I will apologize for.

** Or maybe I just wasn't ready. Maybe twenty-two was too young to move in with someone and make that kind of commitment. Maybe I didn't get the chance to live enough life as me before attempting to create a life with someone else. We may never know.

Life Advice from a 3-year Old

I was bonding with my nephew this morning over a container of ectoplasm-green Play-doh, when his mom brilliantly suggested that I ask him for some life advice. So I did, figuring it couldn't be any worse than the direction I was already headed in. Or so I thought...

OBG: Okay, so here's the deal. I just graduated with my Master's degree and...
Nephew: What Master's?
OBG: It's a big deal. 
Nephew: Why?
OBG: Because it means you're smart.
Nephew: Why you smart?
OBG: Because I have brains.
Nephew: Why you have brains?
OBG: Because I was born with them.
Nephew: Oh.
OBG: So I paid lots of money for classes I didn't need, and I wasted two years writing a paper that's just going to sit on the library shelf and no one is going to look at. And now I can't get a job. What should I do?
Nephew: Cut you head off.
OBG: Uh-huh...

(At this point, I made a mental note to talk to Mommy about this. After our conversation, she decided to have a conversation with Daddy about things that are not appropriate for little boys to watch on TV)

OBG: So, I'm broke. I have no money and it costs money to live in a house. I'm going to be homeless soon. What should I do? 
Nephew: Get motorcycle.
OBG: A motorcycle? And do what with it?
Nephew: Ride it 'round.
OBG: Around where?
Nephew: To yous house.
OBG: But I don't have a house. Where should I go?
Nephew: The gym. Ride circles.
OBG: Uh-huh...

OBG: I need a job. How do I get a job?
Nephew: At Walmart.
OBG: Walmart?
Nephew: Yeah!
OBG: Uh-huh...

(I also asked the boy for some relationship advice- long story short, he thinks I should run around in circles. I think he knows me too well.)

Contemplating the big questions of life.

p.s. I'm convinced my sister's house is haunted. I would explain why, but it would just creep me out. Plus, she reads this blog and it would creep her out too.

It's a Twofer!

  

As in, two posts for the price of one! As in, I'm posting twice today. But this time it's for a good cause. 

I was perusing the internet this evening, like I always do when I'm putting off doing work, when I came across this wonderful cause, Mach's grün (yes, this is German. No, I'm not sure what it means, but loosely guesstimated*, I think it means "Make Green". Please don't ask me how I got there, I can't remember. There was a lot of links linking to links linking to other links. It's complicated.).

Apparently blogging is bad for the environment. Let me illustrate this for you with a diagram that I don't quite understand:

(These numbers are for a blog that receives 15,000 visitors a month. Please don't tell them I don't have that many visitors a month. I want them to plant a tree for me. Thanks.)

Any way, I happen to really like Mother Nature (for those of you in Upstate/Northern New York, please don't hate me for saying this. I know you aren't her biggest fan right now, what with all the snow she's been throwing your way *cough* *hack* Global Warming *cough* *cough*. Just think of this as my way of counteracting the curses you've thrown her way. Don't thank me now, thank me later when you don't get a snowstorm Memorial Day Weekend. You're welcome.).

So, here's the gist of it... if I post about their cause on my blog, email them the link and throw some cool little do-hickey over on my sidebar, they will plant a tree to counteract the damage my blog does (ha ha. I only wish I had that many visits). It's totally free. Sweet! Check it out if you have the time and care about the environment (I won't hold it against you if you don't. Really, I won't. I mean it, I really, really won't. Wait! Was that an aluminum can you just threw away in the trash? Ooh, you earth-hater...). Here's the link again: Mach's grün.

* Apparently Firefox recognizes guesstimated as a real word but not blonde. WTF, Firefox?

WARNING: This post may offend you (if you're a bum. Otherwise, probably not.)

       

Ah, yes. Well, here we are, aren't we? I promised you a funny post, didn't I? Well, guess what? I'm in a bit of a funk today, so don't expect too much from me. I'm not really sure why. I guess I have the post-thesis blues. And now I have the "I have the post-thesis blues" blues because I never thought I would be sad that my thesis was over with. (Well, for the most part. I still have that last round of revisions, but that's out of my hands for the moment.) I'm sad. I'm lonely. I think I need some whiskey. Blah, blah, blah. I won't bore you with a tale of the deep, empty, hollow, never-ending sorrow that I'm experiencing right now. (You're welcome)

Instead, let's converse about... homeless people. And hookers. Both of which I saw this evening on my way home from having a margarita with Boss Lady in honor of Cinco de Mayo. Or something like that.

(Source)

I live in a fairly small college town with a surprising number of bums and prostitutes. There's this one dude who likes to camp out at the entrance to a pretty busy plaza in town. Of course, this plaza happens to contain the grocery store I frequent. (And the liquor store. And the bank that will actually give me a roll of quarters even though I don't have an account there.) Now, I don't know about you, but for some reason, homeless people make me feel guilty. Not guilty enough to give them money, mind you, but guilty nonetheless. Guilty for going to the grocery store. Guilty for driving a car. Guilty for wearing clean clothes. You get the picture, right?

Mr. Bum has himself set up so when you exit the plaza via the left hand lane, he's literally standing two feet away from your driver's side window. I have to turn left in order to go home. I'm not going to lie, I have, on occasion, decided to take the long way home (exit right) in order to avoid being the first car in line at the light so as not to have to see Mr. Bum looming outside my car. It's not that he disgusts me or anything (seeing as I, myself, might be homeless soon). I just happen to experience a lot of anxiety having him next to my car. I mean, WHAT DOES HE EXPECT FROM ME!?! His sign says he wants a job, but his eyes say he'll take anything I offer. This is just too much pressure for me to handle. Let me explain.

First of all, aside from the fact that I barely have enough money to feed myself, I don't carry cash on me. And the only change in my car is the coffee-crusted pennies in the bottom of my cup holders. I suspect handing over a handful of sticky coins would be more offending than if I were to spit on him. I could be wrong.

Second of all, I don't know what his food preferences are. Is he a vegetarian? Does he have any food allergies? If I give him my Nutrageous, will it be appreciated? And furthermore, if I give him my Nutrageous, what will I eat for dinner? Does he have access to a microwave? I would be more than happy to share my microwave popcorn with him if I knew he had the means to pop it. Does he like apples? If I give him my apples will he appreciate how perfect and non-bruised and non-blemished they are? Will he thank me for spending fifteen minutes picking over every apple in the produce section to find the non-mealy ones?

I suspect he likes coffee because he's always drinking from a travel mug, however I'm pretty sure he doesn't have access to a coffee maker let alone a coffee grinder. (I think the Dunkin' Donuts across the street gives him free coffee. Or maybe he's drinking whiskey in that mug. If that's the case, I'll have to befriend him once I'm jobless and homeless too. At least then we'll both have a buddy to drink with.) In other words, I doubt my groceries are of any use to him.

Thirdly, and this one has nothing to do with the anxiety Mr. Bum causes me but is actually a critique of his strategy, why is he only present on warm, sunny days? Who's going to feel bad for a man standing outside on a warm, sunshiny day? If anything, people are going to be envious, and then they're going to be spiteful, and then poor Mr. Bum will go away empty handed because the people driving by are too bitter about the fact that he gets to be outside while they have to go to work and sit in some cramped, hole-in-the-wall, closet trying to pass itself off as an office.

Wouldn't it make more sense to be out there during the wet and cold weather? People always have sympathy for others who are colder and wetter than they are. Think of all the food and money and warm clothes he could get then. I tell you what, once we're seated down on that median with our drinks in hand, that's the first suggestion I'm gonna make.

Oh, and about that hooker I saw? (And if you're wondering how I knew she was a hooker, trust me, I've lived in this town long enough to be able to tell the difference between a hooker and a girl in middle school. The differences in the trashiness are subtle, but once you learn them, you can tell). Explain this to me. It was 90 degrees out today and this chick was walking down the street wearing her ankle boots with white athletic socks, booty shorts, a ruffled shirt with the print of some extinct animal that was killed off by Mother Nature for having a pelt that caused seizures, and a puffer vest. A PUFFER VEST! Did I mention it was 90 DEGREES OUT?

You know what? I bet Mr. Bum would have some interesting insight on this. That will probably be the second topic I bring up during our whiskey fueled conversation. Maybe Miss Hooker will lend us her puffer vest. After all, when she begs for money, she'll get to ride inside the cars while we'd be stuck on the outside in the cold precipitation

UPDATE: I just spotted a chickie in the Arts building I work in wearing the same get-up as Miss Hooker, sans the white socks and the animal print top. Hard to tell if this is the same girl, but I'm quite perplexed. Has hooker garb become some new trend in fashion that I'm unaware of?

100th post!

   

Well, this here post is my 100th post. I've been putting off writing it because I wanted something super-special to write about, but alas, I've got nothing. The pressure to be entertaining and monumental with this milestone is too much, therefore, I'm choosing to be boring and trivial.

First off, you may have noticed a significant change to One Blonde Girl this week. Apparently, a bored blonde girl fills her time by revamping her blog. I've been dying to do this for quite some time now, but haven't had the spare time to do so. If you're wondering why the change, I had a few reasons. 

1. the old blog design had me feeling claustrophobic. I needed to spread out. 
2. the white-on-gray text thing was bugging my eyes out. Really, it was becoming painful for me to read my own blog (not because of the content, although that has been pretty drab lately, but because I'm pretty sure I'm due for an eye exam again since things have gotten pretty fuzzy recently). 
3. the old design didn't really reflect me. When I first started blogging, I was experimenting with different layouts and different elements, and somewhere along the line I ended up with a blog design that wasn't quite me.

So that's that. Feel free to let me know what you think. 

              

Second of all, despite my lament on Friday of being friendless, I had a great weekend with some good friends, and I didn't even need to go scrounge them up. They found me! My good friend, Stormey, invited me out to a field/forest fest/party/bonfire/good time on Saturday at his brother's house. That same morning, my good friend, Pooh, told me he was considering coming into town for the day. Needless to say, I felt like I had won the friend lottery on Saturday! It was great to hang with Stormey and Pooh again. The party was tons of fun with mediocre music, beer pong (I kicked butt! My partner, Stormey, not-so-much), burgers and dogs, large-scale group painting, crazy hula-hooping chickies, one kick-ass flaming hoop dancer, a bonfire, glow sticks, bongo drums and lots and lots of stress-relieving fun. Just what the doctor ordered. 

           

Sunday, for the most part, was spent recovering from the previous evening's debauchery (it wasn't so much a need to recover from the alcohol this time so much as it was a need to recover from... other things. Like, for one, getting to bed at 3am and waking up at 6am. What the hell, body?). But, it was a nice and relaxing day because... IT WAS THESIS FREE!!! (I promise to tire of saying that real soon. I think.)

Today was interesting. I stepped back into a classroom- for the first time in a year, as a substitute teacher- for the first time in three years, in a 7th grade art class- for the first time in six years. But I'll be writing about that later over at Miss Weber's Room.

Overall, I realized this past weekend that I DO have friends, even if they aren't readily available to go grab a beer at a moment's notice. 

I realized that the rules for drinking games aren't universal, they're regional. Or maybe they're generational (yes, I was the thirty year-old partying with the early twenty year-olds. BUT, I wasn't the only one. In fact, I wasn't even the oldest one. That honor went to Stormey. Poor old man).

I also realized that if I can survive a day of 7th grade art as a substitute, I'll be fine returning to the real world of work (except for that waking up early thing. I don't know if you can really get used to that), which is good to know, 'cause I've got that interview on Wednesday. I still have my teacher voice too. Which is also good to know.

Well, so much for a fabulous 100th post.

Oh! Here's some good advice, straight from me too you. If you find yourself wearing a skirt to a field/forest party, make sure you have a good buddy around to hold the contents of your pockets when you need to use the porta-potty. Unless you want to lose your favorite chapstick and $5 in the hold of a porta-potty.

(In case you're wondering, if you Google "another name for the hole in porta-potty, you'll come across this story about a stabbing suspect hiding out in a porta-potty. Gross.)

There should be an instructional manual for this.

Seriously.

Let's be honest here, not all of us were raised with the most attentive or informative mothers (for an extremely humbling yet humorous example, read this post from one of my favorite blogs, Hipstercrite). Not all of us were taught the ins and outs of eyebrow tweezing, the basics of makeup application or (nor?) the how-tos of assembling an entire outfit. And let's not forget the hot topics of dating, girlfriends and, well, basic survival. The only dating advice I can ever remember my mom dishing out was "Good girls don't call boys," and this was less of an advisement and more of an accusation (yeah, I'm pretty sure my mom was insinuating that I was a whore. At 14, but I digress.).

So, my point is, there are (very frequently) moments in my life when I want to pull the hair out of my head and yell SHOULDN'T SOMEONE HAVE TOLD ME ABOUT/HOW TO DEAL WITH THIS?!? Therefore, for us poor unfortunate souls who grew up without a proper education on how to be a girl, I suggest that someone create an instructional manual for this shit (and I'm not referring to the Cosmo kind, because I'm pretty sure there's more to being a girl than How to Give Your Man a Mind-Blowing Blow or How to Dress Like a Hooker at Work and Not Get Called a Whore*).

For fun, here are some things I would like to see covered in said manual:

1. How to survive puberty- as in the logistics of it. This shouldn't be left up to the health teacher, who is just going to show us a picture of a cow's head and throw all sorts of medical jargon at us. And please, please, please this shouldn't be left up to our moms, who are gonna get all theatrical and "You're now a woman!" on us and then throw a book at us that will miraculously explain it all. It won't. Just give us the real world, this-is-how-you-deal, facts.
2. How to be a friend with a guy without him wanting to take it to the next level- I'm convinced this type of relationship can exist, and I'm still determined to prove it. This should also cover how to have a one-night stand that won't result in him hounding you for dinner and a movie, and how to get him to NOT call you.
3. How to say no without feeling like a bitch- this has so many applications I don't even know where to begin. Being incapable of saying no without carrying around a burden of guilt the size of Texas has resulted in many life situations I have NOT wanted to be in.
4. How to be a lady while wearing a skirt- I fail miserably at this. I have no qualms against sitting criss-cross applesauce (formerly known as Indian Style) in a skirt. I have no problem sitting on the floor or the ground or in the dirt. I wear flip flops in skirts. I go barefoot. I put my feet up on my chair/table when wearing a skirt. I have flashed many unsuspecting strangers numerous times when the wind picks up. 
5. How to wear our hair/clothes/make-up in a flattering manner- I know we all have to go through a trial-and-error stage, but I think with the assistance of an instructional manual I would have discovered my personal style before the age of 25.
6. How to hurt someone's feelings with grace and ease- I suck at this. 
7. How to have a successful argument without caving at a crucial moment- I suck at this too.
8. How to survive other women- Women are mean. Women are cruel. Women are vindictive. Where are the instructions on how to deal when you find yourself at a barbecue, surrounded by married women who are all five years younger than you and all have children or are pregnant and none of them work and they make YOU feel guilty for being almost 30, unmarried, sans kids and more focused on your education and career then all those other things. Not that I've ever been in that situation, I'm just saying, for example.
9. How to be entirely comfortable and accepting with the longing, the desire and the decision to be a free and independent woman- Cuz the world doesn't make this easy on a woman. I like living on my own. I like paying for my own meal. I like driving my own car (a standard, by the way). I like not having to answer to anyone or check in with someone at all times. So why do I still feel guilty about this?
10. How to talk about cars- it seems men are born with this ability. That's unfair. I would feel much more confident heading to the garage if I knew what a catalytic converter did or if I knew what a tie-rod was.
11. How to purchase a bag of Oreos and NOT consume the entire package in two days- same goes for chocolate. and ice cream. and candy. Damn you, PMS!
12. How to comfortably do things on your own- like eating out or going to a movie or grabbing a drink at a bar. I have to admit, I have successfully eaten out on my own (granted, it was always at a diner, but it counts) however, I have yet to go to a bar on my own, but I see men do it all the time. And I have yet to master the ability to walk into a movie theater on my own, purchase a ticket and see that movie that I've been dying to see.
13. How to drink with the boys- alright, in all honesty, I don't need instructions on this. I've been known to drink quite a few boys under the table before, but I do know quite a few girls who could benefit from putting down the girly umbrella drink and grab a beer, for god's sake!
14. How to not make an ass of yourself in front of a crush- (I really couldn't end on 13, so I threw this one in, but it's still true). Fergie sang about this. We all do it. How do we stop trippin', stumblin' and acting all clumsy and start acting like the sophisticated, put-together woman that we are in front of the men of our dreams?

Well, it's a start. What would you like to see in the instructional manual for being a girl?

 

    
* I don't think these are actual articles from Cosmo. I don't read it, but from what I've seen in the aisles of the supermarket, they very well could be.

Chivalry for the 21st-Century: The Dinner Date

   

(photo courtesy of BreakupGirl.net)

A couple of weeks ago, it was mentioned to me that I may possibly have a problem with men opening doors for me. I'm not entirely sure this is true. I have noticed that I don't enjoy having a door opened for me, but I'm pretty sure this is not a feminist/anti-chivalry issue. I'm pretty sure this has more to do with my insecurities and extreme dislike for attention, especially the attention of strangers. You see, whenever a door is opened, something happens that brings the opening of said door to the attention of the people inside the building/room. Maybe it's a blast of cold air, maybe it's the chime of a bell, or maybe it's a loud squeaky noise. Whatever it is, it will cause the occupants on the inside to turn and look to see who dares to enter from the outside. This is, in my opinion, unwanted attention. I would prefer not to be the person all eyes are now focused on. I would prefer to be the person still outside holding the door. (Yes, I may have issues.) 

At any rate this caused me to do some self-reflecting (yes, I realize I do this quite frequently), and it also brought me to this conclusion (which has very little to do with my self-reflection and is really more of an observation)...

Chivalry is dead. You may disagree, however, when one considers the true definition of chivalry, I bet you'll be more inclined to agree with me. For your convenience, here's the definition:

Main Entry: chiv·al·ry 

Pronunciation: \ˈshi-vəl-rē\

Function: noun

Inflected Form(s): plural chiv·al·ries

Etymology: Middle English chivalrie, from Anglo-French chevalerie, from chevaler knight — more at chevalier

Date: 14th century

1 : mounted men-at-arms
2 archaic a : martial valor b : knightly skill
3 : gallant or distinguished gentlemen
4 : the system, spirit, or customs of medieval knighthood
5 : the qualities of the ideal knight : chivalrous conduct

You, see? Dead and buried. Now, if we were to refer to the modern idea of chivalry, "Today, the terms chivalry and chivalrous are often used to describe courteous behavior, especially that of men towards women," I still must argue that chivalry is dead, or at least, dying. This is especially noticeable when dining out with a person of the opposite sex, a.k.a., a man. As an act of good-will and in the best interest of all sexes involved, I present to you...

How to be a Gentleman while on the Dinner Date*

1. Pick the restaurant. Or at least narrow the possibilities down to three options that I can choose from. There is nothing more frightening than having to pick the restaurant, especially if you, the man, are buying. I don't know whether your wallet is stocked for fine French cuisine or for greasy French fries. This rule applies to first dates, fifth dates and fiftieth dates. It's kind of romantic, so just do it. Plus, it will save a lot of wasted time, energy and indecisiveness, especially if it happens to be our fiftieth dinner date ("Where do you wanna eat?" "I don't know. Where do you feel like eating?" "I don't know. Why don't you pick a place." "Can't you just pick a place?" See what I mean? Ugh. Takes the whole romance out of the dinner date)
2. Hold the door open for me. I know, I know. Based on my above rant you may be under the impression that this is not cool. However, being that we are on a dinner date, I have probably dressed up for the occasion and would like to feel pretty and attractive, and I'm looking for lots of attention from others. (Especially if you neglected to comment on how nice I look when you picked me up or we left the house). I know this is a bit confusing, but trust me on this one.
3. Let me choose my seat first. Nothing bugs the piss out of me more than always getting stuck with the bad seat. Whether it be the chair in the unfortunate half table/half booth combo, the seat without a view of the TV, or the chair that puts my back to the entire room, getting stuck with the bad seat can ruin the entire meal for me. By allowing me to choose my seat first, you are showing me that you are concerned with my comfort and want me to have an enjoyable evening. If this means you can't watch the football game, suck it up. You could have stayed home and done that.
4. Wait until I am seated before you sit down. Whatever happened to this act of chivalry? I remember my grandfather doing this. He would always wait for the women to be seated before he sat down to the table. I can't tell you how obnoxious it is to still be struggling out of my coat and you're already sitting down, perusing the menu. And for the love of god, would it kill you to pull a chair out once in a awhile?!? (Ooh. Sorry. I got a bit carried away there for a moment). Seriously though, these are both very romantic gestures. Doing one or both of these will show you are considerate and polite.
5. Be a man, step-up and take initiative when ordering. This doesn't mean that I want you to order for me. God knows I don't want that. What this means is don't leave it up to me to do all the conversing with the waitress. I've been a waitress and trust me when I say it never looks good when the woman is doing all the talking. The woman comes across as bossy and controlling, and the man comes across as weak and beaten. You don't have to do all the talking, but when the waitress asks if we're ready to order or if everything is okay or if there is anything we need, speak up, please. (I should hope it doesn't need to be mentioned, but just in case, never, ever, ever flirt with the waitress. Even if you think you're being charming, you're offending me and creeping out the poor waitress.)
6. Skip the appetizer. (Be forewarned, I'm about to discuss sex. If this makes you uncomfortable, skip ahead to #7.) Okay, regardless of how many times we've been out to dinner together, you know the moment the evening begins whether or not you'll be looking for sex after dinner. I know this. I anticipate that you may want to have sex with me later, especially if the evening involves drinks. Because of this expectation, I am carefully planning out what I will be eating. There is nothing at all sexy about the post-dinner bloat. The last thing I want to do after a filling dinner is get naked and participate in ambitious bedroom antics. Therefore, skip the appetizer, or better yet, let me choose. Soup? Okay. Salad? Okay. Spinach and artichoke dip served with half a loaf of bread? Not okay. Not only will I feel obligated to eat this heavy-on-the-stomach dish (knowing full well that if I don't, I may come across as picky or anorexic, and also knowing that you're going to keep insisting that I have some until I finally break down and do) this dish is going to sit in my gut all night long. And piling an entree, possibly dessert and drinks on top of it makes for a very rumbly tummy.
7. Don't criticize my food and beverage choices. Don't pick on me for ordering fish at a steakhouse or skipping desert when my favorite is on special. Don't insist that I try the fresh baked bread or that I have just one more beer**. And please, please don't insist that I clean my plate. Trust me, I'm thinking of you here (See #6 for an explanation).
8. Turn your cell phone off. This has got to be one of my biggest pet peeves. There is nothing ruder than you texting during dinner or worse, answering your cell. I don't care who it is, you're being inconsiderate. I will never do this to you. Please don't do it to me. 
9. Wait for me. After the bill is paid and we are getting ready to leave, please don't high-tail it to the door without me. When you leave me at the table, struggling to get my coat back on and trying to round up my gloves, scarf, purse and what-have-you, I feel like a total idiot. Worse, I'm thinking bad thoughts about you. Please be patient and wait for me. Better yet, help me with my coat and offer to carry the take-home boxes.
10. Pay attention, be understanding and be realistic. (Sex discussion warning) Don't assume I'll be ready for sex immediately following dinner. Give a girl some time to digest. Especially if you broke guidelines #6 or #7. And please understand, there will be nights when I will willingly break #6 and #7 on my own because I want to gorge myself on wonderfully good food. On these nights, I have very little intention of jumping into bed with you later in the evening. Make sure you pay attention at dinner. If you've noticed a lot of food consumption, please don't expect much later on. Of course, if you notice a lot of beverage consumption of the alcoholic kind, you can totally disregard everything I've just said and consider it safe to assume that I will want, no, I will be expecting, lots of wild sex of the dirty and acrobatic kind.

* The "dinner date" has become a popular activity for couples in a long-term relationship as well as men and women who are simply "dating." These guidelines are appropriate for anyone, despite the length of time a couple has been together. In fact, they are highly recommended to those in a long-term relationship who are looking to keep the magic and romance alive.

** Unless of course, you are paying close attention as outlined in guideline #10 and are hoping for a certain outcome for the evening. Please be aware though, I'm on to you and I know when you're intention is to get me drunk. That doesn't mean I won't allow it to happen, it just means I'm not stupid.

I eat from dirty spoons

   

Yeah, okay, SOMETIMES I don't technically wash my utensils before I use them again. And yeah, SOMETIMES this extends to other dishes as well. Of course, I do this only because I have a great concern for conserving one of our greatest natural resources, water (read:sometimes I'm just too damn lazy).

Really though, I don't see anything wrong with this. I DO have some stipulations. For one, I have to be willing to clean said utensil with a good tongue licking before I reuse it, and two, said utensil cannot be used in anything communally shared.

For example, I thoroughly licked the congealed butter off the spoon I used for my pasta dinner tonight before enjoying a tasty peanut butter snack (yes, directly from the jar. I also have a tendency to drink things straight from the carton/bottle. You've been warned).

I will also just RINSE a coffee mug before using it (with water, of course) and WIPE OUT a bowl before refilling it (unless said bowl was previously used for something that dried all crusty-like).

You call it lazy. I call it genius.

You call it disgusting. I call it extra flavor.