"What are you doing on a dating site? You are smart, funny and gorgeous!!!" This was not a comment made to me, but a comment directly copied and pasted from a comment on Facebook to a friend of mine who, against all of my advice, has joined eHarmony.
First, this comment sent me into a spiral of fury and rage. Then it made me actually hate a total stranger who clearly has never had to date in her adult life. More than I hate the people who say "How are you still single?"
I'll tell you how...
1. If you are an adult male who frequently takes shirtless selfies, don't post them on your dating profile. You know what this tells me? You're a douchebag. Or maybe you just really like the way you look. That's awesome. But unless I'm requesting to see you without a shirt on in your kitchen, wear a shirt.
2. "Sup" is not an email. This tells me you can't think of ANYTHING to say, and since I've already been on a date with someone who spoke 5 words in 2 hours, I'm not interested.
3. There, their, they're. Your, you're. To, too. I realize I shouldn't let this get in the way of love, because according to the aforementioned friend of a friend, smart people aren't using the internet for dating. Not to mention, do you not have a computer with spell check?
4. What does "drinks only on special occasions" even mean? More importantly, who only drinks on special occasions? What you might mean..."I only drink during appropriate occasions." What I hear? "I once took a sip of sacramental wine at church." Unless "Friday" counts as a special occasion, don't talk to me.
5. So you've traveled to cool places. Talk about that in your "about me" section. Or...in the email you send me instead of "Sup." Don't upload your entire Shutterfly album of pictures (without you in them) of all the sites you've seen from around the world. I have Google.
6. If you've been married before, that's ok. That's why they give you the option to select "Divorced." and me the option to say I don't care. However, I don't need to see the picture from your wedding day as your profile picture. I am not looking for a sister wife.
7. Is your best friend a girl? That's nice. I have a lot of guy friends. But I don't post pictures of them licking/kissing my face, holding my hand, gazing at me lovingly, etc. I see this on your profile, I think "player." I don't play games. Oh, and I'm way too old to date someone who forces me to use the word "player."
8. Don't "nudge" me. I don't want to be nudged physically, and electronically is just annoying. Really? You're pushy and we haven't even talked? That sounds like a dream relationship. And by dream relationship, I mean, in your dreams. Go "nudge" someone else.
9. Internet dating does not give you the right to act like a complete dirtball. If you are looking to exchange dirty pictures, or "sext" with complete strangers, there are websites you don't have to pay for. Also, I can't believe I'm the only woman to think a picture of your...my mom reads my blog...is unattractive. And no, I do not want to "play."
10. When you are given the opportunity to write your own question to one of your matches, don't ask "How far are you willing to go on the first date?" I'm sorry, but do you want that answer in baseball terms, since obviously we are 14 and about to make out in your parents basement?
I was going to sort these into a Top 10 kind of order but I'm having difficulty deciding what's the worst of the list. I'll let you decide. That said, I still think the Facebook comment was ridiculous and it's even more obvious to me now that the "smart, funny, and gorgeous" people who she thinks don't belong online need more help than ever finding someone in a world filled with idiots.
Wednesday, January 22, 2014
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
I am Living Proof.
When I was only 5 years old, you could find me in the beauty aisle of the grocery store testing out fun colors of nail polish, smelling all the different flavors of shampoo and body wash, and then sneaking my favorites into the shopping cart when my mother wasn't looking.
I’d find my way into my mother’s room to try on any type of makeup I could find in her drawers. When I was 11, I decided it was time to perm my hair for a new style, and by the time I was 16, I could no longer remember what my natural hair color actually was.
In high school, I deemed myself qualified to give my best friends free hair cuts, and somehow became the go-to for makeup for all the school dances. I was often so booked that I ended up doing my own face in the back of the limo on the way to the prom. True story.
My first year in college, I decided that a new school, 18 credits, a sorority, and a nearly full-time job wasn’t enough, so in the evenings, you’d find me at Von Lee International School of Aesthetics, earning my certificate in makeup artistry. And three months later, I was licensed by the State of Maryland.
For the next few years, I worked for companies like Merle Norman and Estee Lauder selling products to not only customers, but my own family and friends. I remember working at the Estee Lauder counter during college and telling my mom I wanted to drop out of school after I'd met the Account Executive. I knew right away, that was what I wanted to do.
Let's just say I lost that battle. So…I graduated…
With my bachelor’s degree under my belt, it was time to enter the “real world.” For years, you could find me behind a desk working in financial publishing. Just like I had always planned, I was working in Corporate America. I always liked my jobs after college, but it seemed like something was off. I was working hard all day, felt poor all night, and, there was just something missing…
So I got a part-time job.
People talk about love at first sight all the time. “The day I met your father, I just knew he was the man I was going to marry.” You’ve heard a similar story, right? Well, that’s what happened for me, with Aveda. After leaving my first interview for a temporary holiday position, I just knew. (I'm still waiting on that feeling regarding my future husband...)
I started with Aveda in November of 2007, and by February, I had applied for and accepted a full-time position to manage the store. A college degree, and here I was working in the mall. What have I done? Did I really just leave a job where a plastic cup of fine wine was often delivered to my desk on a Friday afternoon? Did I really just give up my weekends to sell shampoo?
4 years later it all makes sense. I'm finally where I've always known I wanted to be, and have accepted a job working in field sales for a company in the industry I love!
Some things are just rooted inside you. For me, it was something that was there even back in the day, at 5 years old, while grocery shopping with my mother. And now, instead of me sneaking products into her shopping cart, she somehow finds a way to add her favorite products into mine.
I don't want to say "I told you so," but...Mom? I told you so.
I’d find my way into my mother’s room to try on any type of makeup I could find in her drawers. When I was 11, I decided it was time to perm my hair for a new style, and by the time I was 16, I could no longer remember what my natural hair color actually was.
In high school, I deemed myself qualified to give my best friends free hair cuts, and somehow became the go-to for makeup for all the school dances. I was often so booked that I ended up doing my own face in the back of the limo on the way to the prom. True story.
My first year in college, I decided that a new school, 18 credits, a sorority, and a nearly full-time job wasn’t enough, so in the evenings, you’d find me at Von Lee International School of Aesthetics, earning my certificate in makeup artistry. And three months later, I was licensed by the State of Maryland.
For the next few years, I worked for companies like Merle Norman and Estee Lauder selling products to not only customers, but my own family and friends. I remember working at the Estee Lauder counter during college and telling my mom I wanted to drop out of school after I'd met the Account Executive. I knew right away, that was what I wanted to do.
Let's just say I lost that battle. So…I graduated…
With my bachelor’s degree under my belt, it was time to enter the “real world.” For years, you could find me behind a desk working in financial publishing. Just like I had always planned, I was working in Corporate America. I always liked my jobs after college, but it seemed like something was off. I was working hard all day, felt poor all night, and, there was just something missing…
So I got a part-time job.
People talk about love at first sight all the time. “The day I met your father, I just knew he was the man I was going to marry.” You’ve heard a similar story, right? Well, that’s what happened for me, with Aveda. After leaving my first interview for a temporary holiday position, I just knew. (I'm still waiting on that feeling regarding my future husband...)
I started with Aveda in November of 2007, and by February, I had applied for and accepted a full-time position to manage the store. A college degree, and here I was working in the mall. What have I done? Did I really just leave a job where a plastic cup of fine wine was often delivered to my desk on a Friday afternoon? Did I really just give up my weekends to sell shampoo?
4 years later it all makes sense. I'm finally where I've always known I wanted to be, and have accepted a job working in field sales for a company in the industry I love!
Some things are just rooted inside you. For me, it was something that was there even back in the day, at 5 years old, while grocery shopping with my mother. And now, instead of me sneaking products into her shopping cart, she somehow finds a way to add her favorite products into mine.
I don't want to say "I told you so," but...Mom? I told you so.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Flirting With Disaster
473. It's the number I used when I exaggerate..."I just worked 473 hours" or "Why does that person have 473 children?" 473. Also the number of people who have viewed me on match.com. How many people have I been on a date with? Well, this time? 4. How many people have I been on a 2nd date with? 1. Is it me, or do my odds suck?
I'll admit...I haven't always been so open. My mom would say I'm picky...that I'll find something wrong with everyone. And in the past, I suppose she was right. If you had abnormally small hands, or laughed like a hyena, I probably would have broken up with you by date 3. If you didn't laugh at my jokes, or sent an email with a spelling error, probably date 2 would have been cut short. Now though, it seems so much easier to call it quits on date 1, and I promise its not because I'm being picky.
My new rules are simple. Talk. Like, hold a conversation. If I leave feeling like I spent an evening with myself, then next time, I'll just do that. And if you have trouble with this task, let's go somewhere more entertaining than Chili's.
Next, don't black out. Drinking a case of Miller Lite (out of cans) at the bar is NOT a good first impression. If you can't remember the date tomorrow, then my guess it was as much of a waste of time for you as it was for me. At least, that's what I'm lead to believe until the text about how much fun you had (even though you forgot the 2 shots of vodka you downed) and can't wait to see me again. I mean...???
Third, don't be a douchebag and order for me and then expect me to pay half the check at the end of the night. Now don't get me wrong, I ALWAYS offer, and sometimes mean it. But first, let me offer before you pull out your TI-83 to calculate "splitsies", and if you do expect me to go dutch on the check of food I didn't want, don't call me the next day telling me how much fun you had, because you could have fooled me when you made me pay for your bad choice in wine and dessert.
This year I met two people I considered dating longer than 2 date term. Both times, my dream at a casual relationship was shattered by the pressure to commit after reaching the 6 hour mark of spending time together. The first time, I was confronted for not acting "into him" enough. Most recently, I've been asked to have "an honest moment" to talk about our feelings, and to lay down the terms of our, and I quote, "relationship." I thought girls were supposed to be the pushy ones? The ones who rush things? Instead, I seem to find the only 2 people online who feel the need to claim you as their own after a sushi dinner and Muppet movie. W. T. F.
I'll admit...I haven't always been so open. My mom would say I'm picky...that I'll find something wrong with everyone. And in the past, I suppose she was right. If you had abnormally small hands, or laughed like a hyena, I probably would have broken up with you by date 3. If you didn't laugh at my jokes, or sent an email with a spelling error, probably date 2 would have been cut short. Now though, it seems so much easier to call it quits on date 1, and I promise its not because I'm being picky.
My new rules are simple. Talk. Like, hold a conversation. If I leave feeling like I spent an evening with myself, then next time, I'll just do that. And if you have trouble with this task, let's go somewhere more entertaining than Chili's.
Next, don't black out. Drinking a case of Miller Lite (out of cans) at the bar is NOT a good first impression. If you can't remember the date tomorrow, then my guess it was as much of a waste of time for you as it was for me. At least, that's what I'm lead to believe until the text about how much fun you had (even though you forgot the 2 shots of vodka you downed) and can't wait to see me again. I mean...???
Third, don't be a douchebag and order for me and then expect me to pay half the check at the end of the night. Now don't get me wrong, I ALWAYS offer, and sometimes mean it. But first, let me offer before you pull out your TI-83 to calculate "splitsies", and if you do expect me to go dutch on the check of food I didn't want, don't call me the next day telling me how much fun you had, because you could have fooled me when you made me pay for your bad choice in wine and dessert.
This year I met two people I considered dating longer than 2 date term. Both times, my dream at a casual relationship was shattered by the pressure to commit after reaching the 6 hour mark of spending time together. The first time, I was confronted for not acting "into him" enough. Most recently, I've been asked to have "an honest moment" to talk about our feelings, and to lay down the terms of our, and I quote, "relationship." I thought girls were supposed to be the pushy ones? The ones who rush things? Instead, I seem to find the only 2 people online who feel the need to claim you as their own after a sushi dinner and Muppet movie. W. T. F.
Monday, October 3, 2011
Interviewing 101: 10 Things To Avoid
#1 In your cover letter, use spell check. And, while declaring your interest in the job "oppertuneity" make sure you spell the name of the company you're applying to correctly.
#2 When requesting applications...look the part of a professional. Do not wear lounge pants with "PINK" across your ass. Unless, of course, you are applying to Victoria's Secret. They may be flattered by your support.
#3 When asked why you left a prior job on your application, do not write "problems dealing with authority."
#4 While going door to door collecting applications from, well, everywhere, hide the other 72 applications somewhere besides your other hand. And, when asked why you want to work there, do not say "I just need a job. Anywhere." And definitely do not follow it by saying "I just need something for a few months until I find a job in the field I really want to work in."
#5 When asked why you left a prior job during an interview, do not say "I'm being sued for sexual harassment." And if you do say it, please...do not mean it.
#6 If your head itches, do not smack it while applying for a job at a store that sells hair products. I do not know how to reiterate this enough.
#7 If for some reason, you decide to work in retail...do not list your hours of availability as M-F, 9-5pm. Ain't gonna happen. Ever. Never ever.
#8 An interview is not a date. This means, do not flirt. And, no, you cannot have my number if this "job thing" doesn't work out.
#9 Leave your friends at home when you go to an interview. Or at least in the car. This is not a party.
#10 Do not NOT show up to your interview, then call days later (and try to reschedule) because your boyfriend was in a knife fight last night and you didn't want to miss visiting hours.
*All above tips based on actual events. Please, take them seriously as they will severely inhibit you from finding a job.
#2 When requesting applications...look the part of a professional. Do not wear lounge pants with "PINK" across your ass. Unless, of course, you are applying to Victoria's Secret. They may be flattered by your support.
#3 When asked why you left a prior job on your application, do not write "problems dealing with authority."
#4 While going door to door collecting applications from, well, everywhere, hide the other 72 applications somewhere besides your other hand. And, when asked why you want to work there, do not say "I just need a job. Anywhere." And definitely do not follow it by saying "I just need something for a few months until I find a job in the field I really want to work in."
#5 When asked why you left a prior job during an interview, do not say "I'm being sued for sexual harassment." And if you do say it, please...do not mean it.
#6 If your head itches, do not smack it while applying for a job at a store that sells hair products. I do not know how to reiterate this enough.
#7 If for some reason, you decide to work in retail...do not list your hours of availability as M-F, 9-5pm. Ain't gonna happen. Ever. Never ever.
#8 An interview is not a date. This means, do not flirt. And, no, you cannot have my number if this "job thing" doesn't work out.
#9 Leave your friends at home when you go to an interview. Or at least in the car. This is not a party.
#10 Do not NOT show up to your interview, then call days later (and try to reschedule) because your boyfriend was in a knife fight last night and you didn't want to miss visiting hours.
*All above tips based on actual events. Please, take them seriously as they will severely inhibit you from finding a job.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
A Brunette's Life
I think the reason I've stopped blogging is that my life has stopped being interesting. Ok fine...maybe jury duty and a perfectly peeled orange wasn't necessarily something you'd refer to as interesting...but it made me want to write. Now, the only things I'm remotely inspired to discuss are the only things I can't publish.
I thought about recreating my blog under a pen name...something with no link to me. But, a friend pointed out while debating starting her own mystery blog is that the people that read what I write are my friends. So, if I can't suggest it to my friends because I'm a ghost writer, how on earth do I score a reader? Clearly, most of the time, I'm not that riveting!
Then, I thought...throw caution to the wind, Shauna! Say what you want and deal with the aftermath later! Free yourself! But, as you know, confrontation and risk are hardly my forte, so...looks like we'll be hanging around here for a while. Luckily, Blogger has an app now so maybe the ability to blog on the go will help me stay focused? That said, if there are weird typos or spacing issues, this blog is via app so...testing and please forgive me.
Here's a quick catch up on life since my last entry...
I've rejoined match.com and jdate. Nothing positive on that news front. I think maybe I'll just start posting the ridiculous things I get in emails that men apparently think are cute/flattering/endearing. I'm sure you will all benefit much more than I do from them. Here's one of my recent...I am copying and pasting so all typos and misspellings are part of the real glory I received in my inbox...
"Hey pretty lady. You sound like a perfict match for me exept that your a Crapitals fan and that you a brunette. (yeah, I usually dig the blondes ;). But you're smile is so damn cute I had to shout you out. Drop me a line if you want a Pens jersey on me. LOL LOL. Oh, and Friends is the worst show ever."
I mean...??? That was a joke right? Compliment. Insult. Insult. Compliment. Insult. Insult. Yeah, that doesn't do well on my comparison chart at all.
Moving on. I was removed from an American Idol concert by 4 security guards in Atlantic City a few months ago. Apparently, paying $100+ for seats (don't judge me) and dancing don't go hand in hand. My vertical side swaying pissed people behind us off so much that they were scaling rows of chairs to try to knock me and friend over.
I'm 30 now. Or, 18 with 12 years experience as the candle my mom picked out for me proudly displayed. So now that I've grown out of my (very short lived) getting tossed out of a concert stage, I thought I'd learned my lesson that next time, I should perhaps buy lawn seats. Cheaper, more freedom, and more laid back people sit there. I was sure that would be the case! Wrong. Just a few nights ago, while having a low volumed conversation from my lawn chair, I got yelled at by a woman to shut up. Her yelling was louder than anything I said that night, and, I really felt like she should be much more concerned about her date who was sleeping (or dead) on a blanket next to her. Ugh.
My closet collapsed so I designed a custom closet that my dad built for me. I can't lie, it's pretty amazing. I (my dad) should probably go into business. California Closets For the Poor people. I think it has a ring! Wondering if I can post pictures from this app? Let's try...
What else? Well... yesterday I killed a spider. I also discovered a Pumpkin Spice flavored off brand Bailey's. Will let you know how it is.
That's all for now. I'll try to make my life more eventual or to think of something appropriate for all family and coworkers to read in the meantime. Goodnight!
I thought about recreating my blog under a pen name...something with no link to me. But, a friend pointed out while debating starting her own mystery blog is that the people that read what I write are my friends. So, if I can't suggest it to my friends because I'm a ghost writer, how on earth do I score a reader? Clearly, most of the time, I'm not that riveting!
Then, I thought...throw caution to the wind, Shauna! Say what you want and deal with the aftermath later! Free yourself! But, as you know, confrontation and risk are hardly my forte, so...looks like we'll be hanging around here for a while. Luckily, Blogger has an app now so maybe the ability to blog on the go will help me stay focused? That said, if there are weird typos or spacing issues, this blog is via app so...testing and please forgive me.
Here's a quick catch up on life since my last entry...
I've rejoined match.com and jdate. Nothing positive on that news front. I think maybe I'll just start posting the ridiculous things I get in emails that men apparently think are cute/flattering/endearing. I'm sure you will all benefit much more than I do from them. Here's one of my recent...I am copying and pasting so all typos and misspellings are part of the real glory I received in my inbox...
"Hey pretty lady. You sound like a perfict match for me exept that your a Crapitals fan and that you a brunette. (yeah, I usually dig the blondes ;). But you're smile is so damn cute I had to shout you out. Drop me a line if you want a Pens jersey on me. LOL LOL. Oh, and Friends is the worst show ever."
I mean...??? That was a joke right? Compliment. Insult. Insult. Compliment. Insult. Insult. Yeah, that doesn't do well on my comparison chart at all.
Moving on. I was removed from an American Idol concert by 4 security guards in Atlantic City a few months ago. Apparently, paying $100+ for seats (don't judge me) and dancing don't go hand in hand. My vertical side swaying pissed people behind us off so much that they were scaling rows of chairs to try to knock me and friend over.
I'm 30 now. Or, 18 with 12 years experience as the candle my mom picked out for me proudly displayed. So now that I've grown out of my (very short lived) getting tossed out of a concert stage, I thought I'd learned my lesson that next time, I should perhaps buy lawn seats. Cheaper, more freedom, and more laid back people sit there. I was sure that would be the case! Wrong. Just a few nights ago, while having a low volumed conversation from my lawn chair, I got yelled at by a woman to shut up. Her yelling was louder than anything I said that night, and, I really felt like she should be much more concerned about her date who was sleeping (or dead) on a blanket next to her. Ugh.
My closet collapsed so I designed a custom closet that my dad built for me. I can't lie, it's pretty amazing. I (my dad) should probably go into business. California Closets For the Poor people. I think it has a ring! Wondering if I can post pictures from this app? Let's try...
What else? Well... yesterday I killed a spider. I also discovered a Pumpkin Spice flavored off brand Bailey's. Will let you know how it is.
That's all for now. I'll try to make my life more eventual or to think of something appropriate for all family and coworkers to read in the meantime. Goodnight!
Thursday, June 2, 2011
There's Something About Mary
This past Monday, 4 of my closest friends went skydiving. Sadly, I had to work and could not complete my mission of remaining two feet on the ground, in charge of guarding purses, cameras and cell phones while they went forward with jumping out of a perfectly good plane from 14,000 feet in the air. I totally would have jumped. I just figured they'd be much more relaxed with their dive if they knew their personal belongings were secured. After all, they were so nervous, I wasn't sure they'd go through with it if I wasn't there cheering them on. From the ground. Safe and sound. But, yep definitely would have considered it otherwise. Might have thought about it. Potentially. If only I hadn't had to work. Or take care of personal belongings. Shucks. Thankfully though, even without my help, all 4 of them successfully completed their first (and hopefully last) skydive! But now it's my turn to be the dare-devil since I had to miss out on Monday...
On June 22, I will be traveling avec roommate to NYC. After 2 hours of Expedia, Skoosh, Travelocity, Hotels.com, and Hotwire-ing, we discovered this fancy little link called "unpublished rates". Basically, you pick an area and a star rating, and it gives you a special deep dark discount by allowing you to book a hotel without knowing the name until you confirm. Cool! Sounds like an adventure to me!
We may have been delirious, but after the hours of consistent $400 a night hotel options, the $225 option sounded like a dream. How bad could it be? It's in the area we wanted, it was close to our 3-star rating minimum (close, meaning 2.0) and it was such a steal! I like the mystery, I said. Do it, book it now, she said. And so I did. And so...we were sorry. Oh so very very sorry.
After coming so close to booking The New Yorker, and The Excelsior, where beds looked like giant pillows, and the decor delivered the sudden urge to go to Home Goods and redecorate, our undisclosed deal delivered The Days Hotel. Yep, a Days Inn. For a savings of a measly $100 total over 2 nights, we would be sleeping on cardboard boxes, and substituting sandpaper for carpet. Oh, and did I mention, the trip was non-refundable?
Panic set in. I've never laughed so hard or wanted to cry so much. What did we do? What were we thinking? And why on earth do we make decisions like this at 1am? Rage and panic settled in as I dialed the customer service number for Hotwire.com. I'm a salesperson damnit. I can convince them to cancel my reservation, right?
I first spoke with Sarah, who either transferred me because she couldn't understand me through my high-pitched anxiety ridden voice, or, because she couldn't handle telling me that there was nothing she could do. But I did not waiver. After 42 minutes of hold time, Mary picked up my call. And in the end, Mary refunded us our money. Mary is my hero.
Rumor has it that I'm not a risk taker. Or a thrill seeker. Or, adventurous. So what if I may not want to jump out of planes (solely because I'm just too good of a personal belonging watcher, of course), or off a bridge, or even book hotels blindly. I prefer to stay right where I am most useful and comfortable, on level ground, while occasionally taking trips to hotels that are nicer than my own house. I don't remember what I said to convince Mary to break the fully disclosed "no refund under any circumstance" rule for me, but I do know, I love Mary. And...that I could probably really sell ice to an Eskimo.
On June 22, I will be traveling avec roommate to NYC. After 2 hours of Expedia, Skoosh, Travelocity, Hotels.com, and Hotwire-ing, we discovered this fancy little link called "unpublished rates". Basically, you pick an area and a star rating, and it gives you a special deep dark discount by allowing you to book a hotel without knowing the name until you confirm. Cool! Sounds like an adventure to me!
We may have been delirious, but after the hours of consistent $400 a night hotel options, the $225 option sounded like a dream. How bad could it be? It's in the area we wanted, it was close to our 3-star rating minimum (close, meaning 2.0) and it was such a steal! I like the mystery, I said. Do it, book it now, she said. And so I did. And so...we were sorry. Oh so very very sorry.
After coming so close to booking The New Yorker, and The Excelsior, where beds looked like giant pillows, and the decor delivered the sudden urge to go to Home Goods and redecorate, our undisclosed deal delivered The Days Hotel. Yep, a Days Inn. For a savings of a measly $100 total over 2 nights, we would be sleeping on cardboard boxes, and substituting sandpaper for carpet. Oh, and did I mention, the trip was non-refundable?
Panic set in. I've never laughed so hard or wanted to cry so much. What did we do? What were we thinking? And why on earth do we make decisions like this at 1am? Rage and panic settled in as I dialed the customer service number for Hotwire.com. I'm a salesperson damnit. I can convince them to cancel my reservation, right?
I first spoke with Sarah, who either transferred me because she couldn't understand me through my high-pitched anxiety ridden voice, or, because she couldn't handle telling me that there was nothing she could do. But I did not waiver. After 42 minutes of hold time, Mary picked up my call. And in the end, Mary refunded us our money. Mary is my hero.
Rumor has it that I'm not a risk taker. Or a thrill seeker. Or, adventurous. So what if I may not want to jump out of planes (solely because I'm just too good of a personal belonging watcher, of course), or off a bridge, or even book hotels blindly. I prefer to stay right where I am most useful and comfortable, on level ground, while occasionally taking trips to hotels that are nicer than my own house. I don't remember what I said to convince Mary to break the fully disclosed "no refund under any circumstance" rule for me, but I do know, I love Mary. And...that I could probably really sell ice to an Eskimo.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Growing Up and Graying
When I was 15 it took me 15 minutes to do my makeup and hair, and not to flatter myself, but it was near perfect. Now, after a good 45 minutes with my professional grade hair dryer, top of the line straightener, complete system of hair product, 5 piece skin care system, spackle, and a drawer full of makeup...it's hardly an improvement.
At 18, dating was fun. No pressure, no one worrying (Mom) that they'd never have grandchildren, no one saying "I wish I had someone I could fix you up with." Now, friends and family are openly concerned about my singledom, and begin to frantically find and offer to pay for singles mixers in hopes of me finding my future husband.
When I was 21 I walked around in 4 inch heels everywhere. On my walk through Mt. Vernon from the parking lot to work, nights out at the local bar, dancing, dinner, or, just around my house. And other than that one time, I never (hardly ever) fell. Now, I trip up and down steps, fall into my house, slip at work, step on my own foot, etc, pretty much on daily basis. Sometimes more than once. Don't judge me.
When I was 23 I was still young enough to go out at 10, drink til 2, sleep 4 hours, wake up, and work as if nothing had happened. Now? I go out until 2, and the next morning I accidentally wash my hair with body wash instead of shampoo.
At 25 I loved to spend my money on things like makeup, shoes, bags, and jewelry. And now, as much as I love those things, I put them off in order to save money for my favorite time of the year, Dollar Days at my local liquor store, to ensure I can stock my wine cabinet enough to get me through 6 months until the next sale.
29. Oh, 29. I don't know how I got here but I sure am starting to feel it. The roots of my hair are growing in as a color I'd rather not mention, so clearly, I no longer color my hair just for fun. Instead of late night partying, I have a glass (bottle) of wine with my roommate, fall asleep watching DWTS, and wake up at 2am on the couch with whiplash from sleeping on the couch. Blind dates are no longer funny stories to entertain with at the Thanksgiving dinner table, but mere failure tales of a relationship that might have been. (Actually, my blind date stories are still pretty funny.)
Before 30, I'm rebelling against aging. I just may have to invest in collagen producing makeup and 5-hr energy shots before I hit the big nights out. Oh! And walk slowly and carefully in heels, because there's nothing worse than falling down the steps at a bar. Total buzz kill. So I've heard. Not from personal experience.
At 18, dating was fun. No pressure, no one worrying (Mom) that they'd never have grandchildren, no one saying "I wish I had someone I could fix you up with." Now, friends and family are openly concerned about my singledom, and begin to frantically find and offer to pay for singles mixers in hopes of me finding my future husband.
When I was 21 I walked around in 4 inch heels everywhere. On my walk through Mt. Vernon from the parking lot to work, nights out at the local bar, dancing, dinner, or, just around my house. And other than that one time, I never (hardly ever) fell. Now, I trip up and down steps, fall into my house, slip at work, step on my own foot, etc, pretty much on daily basis. Sometimes more than once. Don't judge me.
When I was 23 I was still young enough to go out at 10, drink til 2, sleep 4 hours, wake up, and work as if nothing had happened. Now? I go out until 2, and the next morning I accidentally wash my hair with body wash instead of shampoo.
At 25 I loved to spend my money on things like makeup, shoes, bags, and jewelry. And now, as much as I love those things, I put them off in order to save money for my favorite time of the year, Dollar Days at my local liquor store, to ensure I can stock my wine cabinet enough to get me through 6 months until the next sale.
29. Oh, 29. I don't know how I got here but I sure am starting to feel it. The roots of my hair are growing in as a color I'd rather not mention, so clearly, I no longer color my hair just for fun. Instead of late night partying, I have a glass (bottle) of wine with my roommate, fall asleep watching DWTS, and wake up at 2am on the couch with whiplash from sleeping on the couch. Blind dates are no longer funny stories to entertain with at the Thanksgiving dinner table, but mere failure tales of a relationship that might have been. (Actually, my blind date stories are still pretty funny.)
Before 30, I'm rebelling against aging. I just may have to invest in collagen producing makeup and 5-hr energy shots before I hit the big nights out. Oh! And walk slowly and carefully in heels, because there's nothing worse than falling down the steps at a bar. Total buzz kill. So I've heard. Not from personal experience.
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