Learning to Move On.

Up until last summer, I don't think I knew who I was.
I blamed the failure of past relationships on the shortcomings of my exes, only attributing my own mistakes as resulting behavior; a natural reaction to the injustice I (thought) I had been faced with.
As is expected in my life, my plans of heading to Austin last summer were derailed two weeks before I was supposed to head to the Lone Star state.  In true Engelbert fashion, I impulsively decided to move to Block Island, RI for the summer.  The plan was to wait tables, waste time, and spend some time at the beach while trying to get my inner compass to point in any direction for a definitive amount of time.
The plan was not, in any capacity, to fall in love.
As arrogant as it was, I assumed I was too good for him from the beginning, and assumed this conceived superiority would mean I would never, ever, feel any type of real attachment towards him.  At first, I avoided him and tried to play hard to get, amused at how much power I thought I had over him.  He was so charismatic and charming, and despite what every single fiber of the common sense I had left told me, I decided to give him a chance.
I recognized this romance should have been a brief summer fling after I was too far into it.  The entire time, I should have just been walking along where the surf breaks on the shore, but instead, I dove in head first past the point where waves start to form.
That's the thing about being all consumed by a toxic relationship; the person you're with will actually swallow you whole, and at some point, you begin to blur boundaries.  Everything you previously had considered a hard no has become a possibility.  You're not sure of where you stand on anything anymore.  You're not even sure of who you are.
So why did I lose my mind, and myself?  I'm not sure.  I got wrapped up in a whirlwind of being cavalier and responsibility free.  I loved being loved by someone.  I created a complex and elusive individual that didn't actually exist inside of a liar.  I lost who I was and instead became a girl I never thought I could be; the one who did everything for the sake of her boyfriend.
While I still can't fully wrap my mind around the complexities and heartbreaks of completely toxic and irrational love, I can assert this:  devoting all of my energy into trying to make a miserable person happy was EXHAUSTING.  I actually felt physically, mentally and emotionally drained from trying to be the person I thought he needed at the moment.  Whenever I took a step back and started to think I didn't deserve the heartache, I actually felt guilty for feeling entitled to love.  That notion alone should have been a red flag:  of course I was entitled to love, and of course I was entitled to be happy.  Nobody should feel as if they don't deserve to be loved.
To say I was in a thankless relationship is an understatement.  I gave, and gave, and tried until I couldn't anymore.  I hated myself for sticking around.  I basically became an addict to the one thing that was destroying me the most.
I wasn't writing.  I wasn't doing anything to better myself.
Breaking up with him was like coming up for air after scuba diving.  I hadn't felt the weight of all I'd been dealing with until I felt the lack of it.  After time, days got better.  I laughed again.  I began to focus on myself, and my goals, and realized I needed to spend time alone to avoid putting myself through the hell I just had.
Still, I wanted some form of reassurance that I hadn't actually just wasted the better part of a year.  I needed the validation that he had, at one point, truly loved me the way I thought he had.  Had I really created the entire depth of the relationship?
Not only did I begin to hate him for treating me the way he had and blaming his actions on me being crazy, but I hated him for actually making me crazy.
I couldn't let go of the relationship because I needed closure, which I've now come to terms and realized I'll never get.  I don't know why I would have expected a mature and realistic conversation from someone who possesses neither of those attributes.
What I have realized, however, is the only people who can ever have power over you are the ones you allow to.  You can't create a relationship off of wishes and what if's:  a relationship is what it is at face value, and you can't waste time and energy fixing something broken beyond repair or trying to save someone who doesn't want to save themselves.
I'll never fully understand what drew me to this absolutely toxic individual, but I can't dwell on the pain anymore.  I know the only way I can actually move on and let go is by letting myself do so.
You can't erase the memories you shared with someone or the time you devoted to them, but you can absolutely learn from it.
So yes...
You'll always be my talk until the sun comes up on the beach.  You'll always have the part of me I gave you.  I'll never look at another sunrise, or the Mohegan Bluffs, or another mile of empty beach the same way again.  I don't think I can even look at Block Island the same way.  You'll always be the keeper of some of my secrets.
You'll also always be the reason I spent so many nights crying myself to sleep, wondering why I wasn't enough.  I'll never forget what it was like to fall so completely in love with another person that I was willing to (and did, in some cases) change my entire life for them.
Loving you made me weak in so many ways, but it also made me so much stronger.  Now I know what it feels like to be settled and happy for it, which is something I"ll carry with me forever.  Now, I finally know how to stand up for myself the right way.
I also finally know who just isn't worth the time.

So thanks, I guess.

You Can Bake Your Cake and Eat it Too: Why Every 20-something Female Should be Ashamed of Herself

If you participate in social media, I'm sure you've become acquainted with the viral post "23 Things to Do Instead of Getting Engaged When You're 23." by Vanessa Elizabeth.  Vanessa's editorial urged readers in their young 20's to see the world and get to know themselves before rushing to settle down and get married.  It's abundantly clear Elizabeth is enjoying her time as a single girl, traveling the world and gaining new experiences, which she should be - her life sounds pretty awesome.  As with most opinion pieces, however, Vanessa's article has caused quit a stir among those who are- you guessed it, young and engaged (or married, which I presume is the end result of an engagement, unless you're a contestant on the Bachelor).  The rebuttal pieces (much like the one here) all maintain the same belief:  that being married or engaged won't hinder one's ability to live life and succeed as a person.

I've noticed a scary trend among all 20-something women:  the categorical division of girls who are single and those who are in serious relationships.  The "us" and "them" mentality is perpetuated by both parties, and it's actually ridiculous. Both sides reserve stereotypes and judgement about the other.  The single crowd automatically assumes girls who are married or engaged in their early to mid-twenties are boring and settling.  There's the assumption girls who have husbands and fiances must not also have careers or social lives.  On the inverse, there's the common stereotype of all single girls in their mid-twenties as being spinsters in the making who consume too much wine, imbibe in nights at the bars too frequently, and are too career focused to have a rewarding love life. Is each side relying on the stereotypes and put downs against the other to cover up latent jealousy, fearing the grass may be greener on the other side?  If this is the case, feminism everywhere just set itself back about 30 years.

It's 2014.  60 years ago, it might have been unheard of for a woman to be anything other than a housewife, but that's because society was  also still segregating schools and encouraging homosexuals to stay closeted.  We've come a long way since then, and the general idea in today's society is based on the notion you can become whatever you want to be without having to apologize for it, or compromise yourself in any manner.  Women should be supporting each other, not limiting one another and dividing themselves into a society of the haves and have nots (husbands, that is).  Instead, girls in their twenties are just trying to prove you cannot, in fact, have it all.

But why do we do this to one another?  Is it jealousy?  I'll admit this much:  if you had asked me ten years ago where I thought I would be at this point in my life, I would not have told you I envisioned myself being a single freelance writer.  I used to cringe every single time a new engagement or birth announcement popped up on any number of my social media feeds, and I lived in fear of getting my mail knowing there would be a Save the Date or Wedding Invitation awaiting me.  Yes, I was jealous of the girls who seemed to be getting everything I once thought I wanted, but I recently had a realization that put it all into perspective.

My generation has become a pioneering group in many aspects; we're a generation that hasn't necessarily followed the timeline or format of our parents.  Not all of us are graduating from college and receiving job offers immediately.  We're navigating society with new challenges, technology, and competition unforseen in the past.  Because of this, there is no precedent or social norm for any type of timeline anymore:  how can someone expect to be married with children by 28 if they only receive their first real job offer at 27?  On the other end of the spectrum, who is anyone to criticize the individuals who graduate from college and start full time jobs immediately, and are financially stable and settled enough to actually betroth by 24?  We've created an impossible double standard in our society; it's almost as if the women who aren't in serious relationships prematurely defend themselves by lashing out at those who are.

It is incredibly important for all women to support each other in every aspect of life and not immediately resort to discounting someone's good fortune as a defense mechanism.  By reassuring yourself the girl who just got engaged is now boring and must not have a fulfilling social or career life, you're ultimately perpetuating the idea that women can't be both career minded and family minded.  Very rarely do men face such scrutiny - I can not recall a time where males have sent group texts saying, "Did you hear Joe proposed?!  Kill me, right?  Well, whatever, he'll be missing out on Fantasy Football this year, so it sucks to be him."  Is this because society has long accepted the idea of being able to be a family man and a career man?  If that's the case, why are women limiting themselves by battling one another on the stance of their relationship?

Regardless of what your status is - you should be happy for your friends and all of their accomplishments and milestones in life while focusing on your own.  Everyone has their own individual set of goals, and instead of focusing on negating the great things that happen to others, instead, females should be working on being the best version of themselves they can be.

So no, I will no longer be participating in the scathing group texts when a sorority sister of mine gets engaged critiquing the ring and reassuring the other single girls that "they'll be divorced in five years anyway."  I'm going to enjoy the weddings and the open bars that are in my future.  If I meet someone, great, and if not, that's okay too.  I'm not going to put others down in an attempt to make myself feel better, because who the hell am I to tell someone their successes are limited to only one area of life?

God Damn it, Miley.

Alright, whatever.  I get it.  Miley's going through her first mid life crisis or something.  I would be on the verge of a mental breakdown too if I'd just lost my super hot Australian fiance and all of my hair.  Come to think of it, I was in a very similar situation a few years ago.  Well, I was in a situation that involved an Australian Jewish poker player getting sent back to Australia after not having the correct documents to get over the Canadian border, and my hair was a lot shorter and blonder, but still.  Potato, vodka.
I'm not trying to pretend that I totally GET Miley, because truthfully, I've never smoked salvia so I can't really relate.  There's also that entire "I'm not from a super rich white trash family and I was never a Disney child star" issue, but that's neither here nor there.
Basically, I understand needing to break out of your shell and shock people.  It must be so unbelievably tiring to be a multi million dollar franchise at the age of 20, especially when you've made your millions by being a pop star among the 11-15 year old set.  I was fine with all of Miley's ridiculous antics;  I could handle her creepy teddy bear fetish.  I was dealing with the foam finger.  I thought we were going to be fine.
And then she fucking did this:

Yup.  That's Miley with photographer/pedophile Terry Richardson.  You know, the guy who's famous for "not roofie-ing" young models/actresses and getting them to show him their tits on camera.  So anyway, she did a (shocker!) controversial photo shoot with him.  I thought it wouldn't be that offensive.  I mean...

Here she is practicing her kissing technique, presumably providing insight as to why the world's 9th hottest actor left her ass.  Fine, I can handle it.

Here she is impersonating a dragon.  Cool.  

This is Miley pretending to be a stoned 11 year old boy who got bored in math class and gave himself tattoos on his fingers with a Sharpie.  Whatever, I can dig it.

Now she's trying to be sexy, but all I can focus on is that monstrosity of a tattoo on her leg.  Oh well.  Not bad.

Oh, here she is trying to SHOCK AND AWE with a suggestively placed aluminum innuendo.  Snooze.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME MILEY?  ARIZONA GRAPEADE?!  ARNOLD PALMER OR GTFO.

I'm done with her.

Domesticity.

As an adult, I'm responsible for many things.  I can't think of them at the moment, but I'm sure I'll be reminded the next time my mother decides to call me and yell at me for failing to take responsibility for aforementioned ambiguous tasks.  I generally fuck up most adult tasks and call my mother in need of a bail out every 14 to 15 days or so, but there are a few areas of living on my own I think I've mastered.  For example, I can do my own laundry with minimal damage on my clothing.  For anything I'm unclear on in the clothes cleaning sector, I tend to mitigate my responsibilities to the local Asian family who takes great pride in their ability to dry clothes clean (a science I'll never understand.  I once spent hours with a blow dryer on a silk skirt in DIY dry cleaning attempt and I did not remove the semen stain.  On the bright side, I've been swallowing ever since).    My cleaning abilities are a solid 5 out of 10, which is a drastic improvement from what they were back when my mother physically used to clean my living space.  As you can probably tell, I'm essentially a domestic goddess, and if there's one area my stay at home prowess shines, it's in the kitchen.
I realize we live in a world of fatasses who rely on take out and Lean Cuisines, so I've decided to divulge a few of my favorite recipes.  These are perfect for the modern girl on the go (think Hannah Horvath - Lena Dunham's character in GIRLS - but hot, not fat, and with friends who don't fuck art dealers).  Here's some insight to the dishes I've been whipping up in la kitchen (that's Spanish for "the kitchen) as of late.

AVOCADO
Ingredients:  1 avocado (or more, if you're hungry)
Prep Time:  However long it takes to cut an avocado.  I don't know, I don't have a thorough grasp on everyone's motor skills.
Cook Time:  Nunca.
First, take a ripe avocado (you know they're ripe when they're slightly soft.  I think).
Find a sharp knife (preferably a short one.  These are a good investment in case you ever decide to channel Jodi Arias, or if you ever decide to get wine drunk, be dramatic, and tell your live in boyfriend you're going to slit your wrists if he doesn't buy you something), and cut the avocado in half all the way through.
Slice each half in several vertical columns.
At this point, you can either leave the skin on and just dive right in with a spoon, or if you're going for presentation, you can scoop the slices out of the spoon and put them on a plate.  Add salt if you haven't given a blowjob lately and received your daily dose of NaCl (or if you like salt).
Enjoy your avocado.
I like this recipe because it's so versatile.  You don't have to use an avocado, you can sub any other fruit that requires no cooking.  Basically, you slice up any vegetable you have lying around and lie to yourself about actually preparing a meal when in actuality you just pulled some cutting edge hunter gatherer shit.

ICED COFFEE
Ingredients:  Coffee
Prep Time:  This is complex.  You'll see.
Cook Time:  Stop that.
There are a few ways to tackle this, but you need to have faith in yourself.
Whichever route you decide to take, you need to start by procuring some HOT coffee.  There are a few ways to do so:  you can either use a Keurig to brew yourself a few cups of your favorite blend.  You can go to your local Starbucks and use the gift card you got for graduation and forgot about and buy about 6 ventis of the Pike Place roast, or you can be a fucking pilgrim and use your own coffee maker to make a pot.  Whatever you decide, once you have the hot coffee, you need to put it in a pitcher and refrigerate it until it's cool.
After you've poured the coffee into the pitcher, pour leftover coffee into an ice tray and let it turn into ice in the freezer.
Whenever everything is cold/frozen, remove the coffee-ice cubes and place in a glass.  Pour cold coffee over coffee-ice cubes, stick a straw in, and enjoy.
This recipe takes a lot of time, so I would recommend picking up an iced coffee to drink while you're waiting for your homemade iced coffee to be ready, just to hold you over.  Pumpkin is back!

GROWN UP GRAPE JUICE
Just get a bottle of red wine and drink the entire thing.  I find wine is a great appetite suppressant, and reds usually make you tired, so by the time you've finished the bottle, and Facebook stalking your ex, you'll be too exhausted to put something edible together.

Alright that's all I've got for now.  Happy eating/starving yourself.

FUCK YOU, KYLE SMITH.

I try to keep my musings and rants impersonal and light.  I don't like to tread on hot topics, and I've always done my part to NOT make this blog an atmosphere in which I shed light on personal vendettas.  That being said, I came across a New York Post article today that I can not ignore.
Kyle Smith, writer of the truly profound blog "Movies," a New York Post Entity, wrote an article cleverly titled "You Got Served!" in which he expressed his unfiltered, completely bias, and completely condescending opinions of people who work in the service industry.  Aside from eliminating all doubt that he is pompous, anti-American, and arrogant without reason, he wrote an entire article summing up what is wrong with our society today.
His article, which you can read here, expressed his disdain for waiters and waitresses in New York City.  He complained that restaurant patrons are "forced to make nice to these creepy ex-darlings of their high school theater departments because of the unspoken hostage drama that's taking place behind the scenes with...food," implicitly stating that if you don't treat your server with the slightest grain of respect, your food will be tampered with.
I don't know about you, but I grew up in a world where the golden rule was, "treat others how you would like to be treated," not, "treat others who are clearly inferior to you with a condescending 'respect' to ensure your food doesn't get tampered with."
As someone who works in the service industry, I deal with every type of idiot on the spectrum throughout the course of a shift.  As frustrating and rude as people can be, I have found that there is still some good in the world, and, the majority of the people I wait on are actually decent human beings with a basic understanding of social decorum.  I'm not here to bitch about the job that's paying my bills while I get a second degree, but I think it's only fair the rude, unfounded and offensive claims made by Mr. Smith are rebutted.
The overall tone of the article was hostile and sought justification for his behavior of the patron everyone in the service industry dreads of encountering.  He made no effort to act embarrassed or ashamed of the fact he only leaves an 11% tip, which is reason enough for concern as it is.
First of all, the tipping standard is 20%.  Servers are payed below minimum wage because it is common knowledge, on par with the color of the sky, that diners leave their waiter or waitress a tip that reflects the total of the bill.  Most servers have to tip out various other restaurant personnel, including the hostess, the bartenders, and the bus boys.  These tip outs are done on a percentage of the total sales of their shift; tipping 11% generally means the server is ACTUALLY getting 2% of the check, and when taxes are deducted from their already fecal paychecks, they are essentially PAYING FOR HIM to sit in their section because he is too much of a cheap, over critical prick to leave 20% of the check. For someone who claims to be a capitalist, I find it ironic he has no problem in allowing someone to essentially pay for him to dine out.
I think Mr. Smith intended his piece to be an edgy, satirical stance against over-zealous, over-friendly servers who pay their bills by turning tables and being attentive to their guests.  Guess what, Kyle?  You're a fucking dick.  Not only did you falsely assume every server is a struggling, up and coming performer, but you wrongfully asserted that we're all idiots.  I don't think there is ANYTHING wrong with working in the service industry.  I'm not asking my parents for  hand outs, and I'm paying my own bills, and *gasp* I'm paying taxes, inherently contributing to society.  I'm unclear as to why people find it appropriate to condescend anyone for the manner in which they pay their bills.  I also can't fathom how someone could be so socially handicapped to not find an issue in writing a mass-produced article encouraging people to treat others disrespectfully.  His article bashed servers for having a sense of entitlement when it came to receiving tips at the end of the night, but in reality, he only described his own sense of outrageous entitlement.
He continued to compare dining in the US to dining in France (by the way, he spends TWO WHOLE WEEKS of each year there, so he's OBVIOUSLY an authority on all things French), which is absolutely ridiculous.  He commended servers in France who don't work for tips, which would be fine to do...if the economies of the US and France were similar.
Look, I understand Mr. Smith was trying to be funny while being a dick about people who actually work for their money, but I cannot appreciate him being rude and making unsupported assertions about the people in the service industry.  If he hates dining out in the US so much, he should just stay home.  There's no need for him to waste everyone's time and effort just so he can go home and complain about it.  It's not that fucking difficult to prepare meals at home, and coming from someone who claims to only be remotely polite to servers because he lives in fear of them fucking with his food, I don't think cooking his own meals would be an outrageous suggestion.
Or, maybe he could move to France, since they're obviously the only other country he's ever visited...and they're SO far superior to the United States anyway.
I hope somewhere in New York, Kyle Smith is getting mugged and beaten somewhere.  I'd consider it fair retribution for all of the negative, bad energy he seems to have no problem releasing into the world.
What a dick.

America is Just One Annoying Dinner Party

I hate politics, I hate groups of people, I hate public forum, I hate public opinion, and I hate mass hysteria.  The entire country has become a melting pot of everything I loathe as of late because of this little political event happening in November called the Presidential Election.

So fucking annoying.

Call me what you want, but I really hate America during election years.  It's too political, it's too serious, it's too confusing.  "But Alex, the right to vote is one of the greatest rights we have as Americans!" you say.  Yes, I know.  It's right up there with the right to own a gun and marry whoever we want.  Wait.

I hate the presidential race because it brings the idiot out in everyone.  First of all, I'd be very impressed if any of the assholes I haven't defriended from Facebook who keep littering my newsfeed with their political agenda could tell me their candidates' stance on five major issues in this upcoming election.  On second thought, I'd be impressed if any of said morons could tell me what five major issues in this upcoming election are.

I had the pleasure of being a student at IU during the 2008 elections.  By pleasure, I mean I wanted to stab my fucking eyes out listening to everyone ramble on about the reasons McCain should be the next president or why they were voting for Obama.  I know college is an institution of higher learning, but college students are fucking idiots.  If I heard one more person say they were voting for Obama because, "McCain is so old he'll probably die while he's in office," I swore I was going to fucking knife a bitch.  Seriously?!  THAT'S THE MAIN FUCKING REASON YOU'RE ELECTING AN INDIVIDUAL TO LEAD YOUR COUNTRY?!  Since when are you the fucking timekeeper of everyone's life span?  OF ALL OF THE POSSIBLE ANSWERS YOU COULD HAVE PICKED, YOU CHOSE THE AGE OF THE CANDIDATE AS THE BASIS OF YOUR VOTE.

Think about it.

I think it's pretty great that we have the right to choose our leaders.  I think America is kick ass.  I'm proud to live in a country that people die trying to move to because they know that a better life awaits here. Do I think America's perfect?  No, because I live within a day's driving distance from a family that has become a national sensation due to the fact they call their youngest daughter "Honey Boo Boo."  But, do I have enough faith and pride in the US of A that I plan to keep living here?  Yes.

What I'm trying to say is that I don't give a fuck who you're voting for, as long as you actually know why you're voting for the candidate.  Do you understand what this means?  Read.  Check MULTIPLE news sources.  Figure out where you are in your life, and which policies align themselves with a country that would most benefit you.  Figure out which proposed policies and changes are actually realistic.  DO NOT vote for a candidate because you think his wife is hot or because your favorite rap star said so.  DO NOT vote for a candidate "just because."

I truly think that every time an uninformed voter steps into a polling booth and treats the voting ballot as if it's an iPad game, one of our founding fathers rolls over in his grave.  I'm fairly certain that a nation where a candidate can win an election if he or she is endorsed by Russel Brand is hardly the nation the gentlemen who put their lives on the line to sign the Declaration of Independence envisioned.

That being said, I will honestly slap anyone who tries to talk about politics with me in the face.  I don't give a shit what your asinine reasons are, but I truly do hope that everyone who gets their news about the election from Internet memes marks their calendars wrong on election day.  I hate my generation for so many reasons, but I think one of the main ones is people who suddenly become politically savvy three months before an election.

I don't give a fuck who you vote for, as long as you know what they stand for, how that will effect you, and whether or not you have evaluated the candidates' plan of action and it's plausibility.

With that, I would like to leave you with this:

Let's Play a Game. It's Called "Just the Tip."

I'm almost completely convinced that less than 3% of the general population should be allowed out in public on a daily basis.  I have zero faith in humanity.  I find people stupid, tactless, and completely oblivious to social cues.  That being said, I would like to address a common custom and the etiquette involved in it:  dining out at restaurants.  As members of the most obese country on the planet, many Americans are accustomed to being able to drive a meager ten or fifteen minutes and find themselves with a plethora of dining options.  While many people are accustomed to the practice of sitting in a vinyl booth (that some small child has probably thrown up in at one point or another) and guzzling down unlimited amounts of syrupy carbonation (free refills are basically an IV of diabetes, by the way), few people are well acquainted with the other end of the procedure:  tipping your server.  Because I'm the eternal optimist, I've decided to assume that most people simply don't know better, which is why cheap ass clowns continue to bestow their hard working server with a meager, insulting pittance at the end of their meal.  I would like to state, for the record, that it is no longer 1994.  We have a black president, people freak out over gay chickens, or something, and the tipping standard is no longer 10%.  It's 20%.  Do you know what that means?  Take the total on the bottom of your bill, pull out your fucking smart phone that you've been busy using to post stupid fucking food pictures on InstaGram with, and multiply that total by .2.  See that number you come up with?  Put that as the tip on the credit card slip.  It's not fucking rocket science.

Some people think that the tip is negotiable.  It's not.  Servers pay taxes on each table they wait on.  They also tip out other restaurant employees, such as bussers and bartenders.  By not leaving a tip, you've essentially allowed your server to pay for you to go out to eat, which is actually the fucking rudest.  I don't give a shit whether or not you can afford to leave 20%.  There's a simple solution to that:  don't go out to eat if you can't afford to tip.

Because this article is probably not enough to crack the glacial iceberg that is the world of evil cheapskates, I've decided to assist all of you with a basic FAQ on the matter.

Q:  I just got my bill.  I got exactly what I ordered, and the service was satisfactory.  What should I tip?
A:  20%.

Q:  I got exactly what I ordered, but I didn't like my food.  I didn't say anything to my server, but I feel like she should have known by the way I wasn't interacting with her.  How much should I tip?
A:  20%.

Q:  I got my food, and I didn't like it.  My server was attentive, and offered me something else, which I declined.  My server took my dish off the bill.  How much should I tip?
A:  20% of the original bill.

Q:  I ordered a soda, and drained the glass by the time my server had finished getting my tables food order.  It took her like 3 minutes to get me another, and then I drank that within about 45 seconds.  My refills took anywhere from 3-7 minutes each. I  have no idea how my server could be so rude as to not know that I absolutely cannot eat my dinner without drinking a minimum of 12 Cokes before my meal.  What should I tip?
A:  20%, and just so you know, you probably consumed about 4896083409682 calories during your meal.

Q:  I'm old.  How much should I tip?
A:  Listen up before your senile ass forgets:  20%.  Enjoy your remaining years.

Q:  My server was pleasant enough to us, but she seems like she's kind of a bitch in real life.  How much should I tip?
A:  I'm sure you're just a ray of fucking sunshine yourself.  25%, because you're probably a real dick.

Q:  I continued making condescending remarks to my server all night, and have been nit-picking the service, searching for reasons to leave a shitty tip.  How much should I leave?
A:  20%, minimum, and I hope somebody slipped rat poison in your ketchup.

Q:  I went out to eat without calling ahead on a Friday night, and am very disgruntled to learn that the popular restaurant I chose is asking me to wait up to 25 minutes for a table!  I'm very angry, because I clearly have an undeserved sense of entitlement.  My server did a great job, but she didn't do anything to accommodate for the fact that I had to wait for my table, just like all of the other patrons.  How much should I tip?
A:  20%.

Q:  I took my four young children out to eat.  How much should I tip?
A:  20% + $5 per child.  For example:  A $100.00 bill without children should be a $20.00 tip.  With four children, your total tip equals:  $20 + (5+5+5+5) = $40.00.  And tell your fucking rugrats to stop grinding up crayons and leaving them on the table.

Q:  I got my table at 7:00, but I need to make it to a movie at 8:00.  I told my server I was in a huge hurry, and then proceeded to take 15 minutes to decide on my entree.  I asked my server for recommendations on food that could be prepared quickly, and I completely ignored their advice and chose a well done steak.  The steak took about 25 minutes to cook, and now I am going to be late for my movie.  How much should I tip?
A:  Are you fucking serious?  25%, and an extra 5% for your trouble because I'm sure you're the kind of person who physically taps your server on the shoulder while he or she is taking care of another table.

Q:  I ordered an appetizer, salad, and an entree.  My chain hangs low and I've consumed about a million and a half non-alcoholic, non-carbonated flavored beverages with little to no ice before my appetizer arrived.  I clearly have no grasp on table decorum and have asked my server multiple times "Where my food at?" because s/he had the nerve to bring my appetizer and salads (with extra ranch) before I have even received my main course.  How much should I tip?
A:  20%, at least, and then another 30% in reparations for all of your cheap ass friends that are "ballin' on a budget" and run my ass around the restaurant, only to stiff me.

Q:  I was only planning on spending $80.00 on dinner, but I've somehow racked up a tab of $85.00.  How much should I tip?  I'm so broke right now!
A:  $18.00, which would be 20%.  Tipping is part of the deal.  You wouldn't go to a store and try to bargain down the price of a pair of shoes because you couldn't afford them, would you?  You would opt for the more affordable option.  The same goes for dining out:  get what you can afford, WITH the 20% tip accounted for.  And go find Suze Orman you piece of shit.

Q:  I went out to eat with a large group of friends.  We moved our seats around, and requested an impossibly difficult separation of checks.  I was a little put off when I vaguely waved my hand around the table and informed my server that I would be paying for my own appetizer, Jessica's first drink, Kayla's second, and half of Robert's dessert, only to receive a blank stare from my server.  My server clearly hadn't taken the time to learn all of our first names.  I find this absolutely inconceivable because that's her job, regardless of the fact that I couldn't be bothered to listen when she introduced herself multiple times, and resorted to snapping at her and calling her "Hey, you" all evening.  How much should I tip?
A:  40%, I hate you, and it's not Diet Coke if you've drank 16 of them.

Q:  I'm a redneck.  I have three teeth, and I'm unclear as to why everyone is looking at me funny when I've removed my shoes at the dinner table.  How much should I tip?
A:  20%, and pass the news along to your brother-uncle.

Q:  My bill was $11.37, and I gave my server a $100 bill to cover the check.  She informed me she would be back with my change.  I'm so puzzled as to how she doesn't have that much cash on her right now; it's 12:03 and the restaurant opened at 11:30.  It took her almost 4 minutes to give me the proper change back. I'm so irritated that she wasn't able to act as a human ATM and automatically dispense $88.63.  How much should I tip?
A:  20%, and you're an asshole.  Are you a rap star, a drug dealer, or just a douche bag?  If you're saying no to all of those, you have no reason to bring a hundred dollar bill with you to a lunch date.

Q:  I was very rude throughout my meal, but everything was satisfactory.  I have now presented my black AMEX card to my server.  How much should I tip?
A:  30%.  You have an AMEX, and I'm a college student trying to support a drug habit.  Pay it forward.

Q:  I just grabbed my server's ass because I'm an inebriated buffoon.  How much should I tip?
A:  200%, regardless of the fact that you just got slapped in the face.

Q:  I'm planning on leaving my phone number on the check, because I find my server attractive.  How much should I tip?
A:  40%.

Q:  I'm foreign, how much should I tip?
A:  20%.

Unless you've retained all of this information and are ready to apply it in real world terms, don't ever sit in my section.

50 Shades of Get Your Fucking Shit Together.

Because I can't stand not knowing what all the buzz is about, ever, I recently decided to read 50 Shades of Grey.  I'm basically an irrefutable source of literary expertise.  It's a gift.  I have a Kindle.  I digress.  I'm generally a huge fan of any literature that comes in series form; ie, Harry Potter, The Hunger Games, anything by Charles Dickens (not a series, I know, but I've named every pet I've ever had after a Dickens character, and I was a super annoying/moody/rude/sarcastic 9 year old who read "A Tale of Two Cities" and tried discussing it with my classmates.  It went way over their heads, but I was ahead of my time, so fuck them), etc.  However, a recent trend has swept over the nation that I absolutely cannot get behind: the phenomenon of books that glorify the weak female protagonist being whisked off her feet by a brooding, misogynistic, chauvinistic, control freak, and it's really starting to fucking piss me off.

Allow me to elaborate.

If there's one thing I can't stand, it's weak females who cannot hold their own.  I will never understand the thought process behind a girl who feels that she needs a man to complete her.  I'm sorry, but since fucking when can another person make you a complete person?  Take a pottery class or something.  I hear hot yoga's awesome.  But for crying out fuck, do not, do not, do not, think that allowing yourself to be consumed by someone else is a form of self completion.

As an authority on independence, I can state with complete certainty that until you are satisfied with yourself as a human, you will never be able to have a mature and healthy relationship.  When you go into a relationship broken and battered, you allow yourself to become completely overtaken by the relationship.  Instead of being empowered by your own self-confidence and self-awareness, you allow the single fact that someone else loves you to help you love yourself.  In case anyone's wondering, plenty of people in the world love you; that's what family and friends are for.

I'm a firm believer that the only relationships that benefit us are the ones that help both parties to grow and realize themselves.  In order for someone to meet his or her ideal relationship counterpart, he or she needs to be comfortable with themselves.  How will you ever know what you want in a partner until you know yourself?

The 50 Shades of Grey Trilogy is about a young, naive girl who meets an eccentric, elusive billionaire (trillionaire? millionaire?  I'm unclear), who, despite the fact that she doesn't find herself to be anything extraordinary, becomes enamored with her.  This may seem to be the quintessential romance novel, minus the fact that Mr. Grey (said unclear-ionaire) is into super heavy BDSM.  The novel essentially takes you through the shy, innocent female protagonist's struggle to wrap her never-been-penetrated mind around the idea of being a submissive to an excessively rich, arrogant Dominant.

My issue with the series was not within the BDSM material (I'm sorry, have you ever given me a shot of tequila?  I have sex stories galore.  I am far from shy).  I will even ignore the fact that E.L. James is a mediocre at best writer.  My issue lies in this single fact: the male character the book is centered around is controlling, abusive, and domineering, and yet is still revered as sexy and irresistible.

The book is one huge glorified abusive relationship.  Christian Grey micro manages every single aspect of the main character's life, from the car she drives to the clothes she wears.  He even shows up and interrupts her vacation in her home town, which was supposed to be a break from him.  She often jokes about him being a stalker.  I'm sorry, but there's nothing funny about some psycho who knows every detail of your life.  My issue with this lies within the fact that most readers are idiots, and most people are incredibly impressionable.

When a series such as 50 Shades of Grey glorifies the ideal of a man who controls his girlfriend's every move and consumes her with a psycho-sexual mind game becomes popular, people begin to try to relate the series to their own life.  I don't think there's anything admirable about letting a man make you feel as though you deserve to be physically punished.  I don't think there's anything sexy about someone who is as emotionally available as a rock garden, no matter how good looking they may or may not be.

All I'm trying to say is that I truly believe somewhere Gloria Steinem is slitting her wrists because women everywhere are getting their boy shorts wetter than Sea World over some fictional womanizer.  I think it's time for a best-selling heroine to become her own person completely independent of any male influence, especially a romantic one.

I'm only going to lightly address the similarities between the 50 Shades and Twilight series:  the location, the seemingly average girl and obviously extraordinary boy, the power of wealth, the power of sex, the abuse of all powers, the transfer of control, the voluntary relinquishing of a female's sense of self for some male who, at the very core, wants to change the female, etc.

I'm really fucking worried for the state of our country if every girl thinks that true romance lies within a man who is overbearingly charismatic and charming, yet completely psychotic and controlling.

I'm not saying that you shouldn't read the 50 Shades Series, but I am advocating its consumption with a critical eye/mind.  As long as this series is revered as completely fictional soft-core porn, and not as a model of what true love is, I think there's some hope for human salvation.

If not, well...

fuck.

I Wish Our Parents' Generation Hadn't Been Into Heavy Drugs.

I'm just going to come out and say it:  I fucking hate my generation, I'm embarrassed for it, and if I could personally bitch slap everyone between the ages of 19 and 25, I would do it.  Now is the perfect time for any flower children of the 70's/acid dropping rock band groupies of the 80's to be thoroughly disgusted in themselves because clearly their recreational drug use has spawned the morons that are clearly dooming our society.

I know I tend to be overly judgmental, highly opinionated, and I generally gravitate toward the "insensitive bitch" end of the personality spectrum, but I beg of you, anyone who still has their wits about them:  reconsider your stations in life and please attempt to rectify the terrible circumstances you've helped put our society in.

We're the generation of celebrated mediocrity, and it's only getting worse.  Now, everybody gets a trophy or a high five just for showing up.  I'm blaming public schools and mothers of ugly, under-achieving children for the roots of this asinine phenomenon.  Kids are taught these days that as long as you tried, you did a good job.  I hate to break it to you, but that's fucking wrong.  If you need any real-world examples of this, take a look at the next time an airline pilot crashes a flight.  Nobody's impressed or handing out trophies when you can't land on course.  I'm not quite sure how the over-zealous PTA mothers that demanded the banishment of races with one winner on field day expected this entire scenario to pan out, but it's a fucking disaster.  First of all, nobody has a grasp on reality.  The fact that "swag" "yolo" and "ballin", among other phrases, exist, is plenty of evidence of the lack of realistic realization anyone has.  Are you fucking kidding me, 24 year old who still lives with his parents and evidently doesn't own a shirt?  You're boasting to your peers on social networking sites about your "sick ass Swag?"  Are you even grasping the context of what you're implying?!  You've used an adjective associated with illness, a profanity, and a made up word, to verify yourself?  FOR FUCKS SAKE, GET A JOB.  I'm also a little concerned that my spell check didn't even prompt me to correct my spelling on swag.

I'm willing to wager that 95% of my generation assumes that they have some redeeming quality, when in reality, they don't.  Give it up, you're not becoming a fucking reality star because some girl on Jersey Shore did it.  It's a proven fact:  every girl who yells "ME AND MY FRIENDS NEED OUR OWN REALITY SHOW" is a perfect product of the celebration of being unremarkable our society holds in such high esteem.  I don't think that you should tell everyone how great they are, unless they are actually doing something of value.  For fuck's sake, you don't even need to actually be pretty to be considered pretty anymore.  It's also a scientific fact that, on average, all girls are respective 5's out of 10.  It's the girls who are realistic 4's and 5's that ruin everything by posting slutty pictures of themselves, just fishing for validation.  I'd like to digress for a moment and question why everybody needs to be validated so much.  I'm willing to assert it's because of all the bullshit team building classes we were required to take in school, that insist everyone is special and everyone is perfect in their own way.  Newsflash:  they're not.  Anyway, back to the mirror-photo chicks.  After said 4 or 5 gets a few comments on pictures left by equally insecure and needy of validation individuals, all of a sudden the self-confidence of the ugly girl is exponentially increased.  Now, for some reason, you're not allowed to tell people they're ugly because NOBODY REALIZES HOW FUCKING HOMELY THEY ARE.  I'm all for beauty magazines, I don't give a shit if people think they're realistic standards, at least it's something for people to work for.  Why are we telling people that being just the way you are is good enough?  Is there no drive for improvement?  Are we encouraging people to be unambitious?  I'm also, no surprise, not a supporter of the "big is beautiful" idea.  No, it's not, it's diabetic and deadly.  All of a sudden, we're celebrating women who are "comfortable in their own skin" ... at a plus size.  I'm sorry bitch, I don't know if you've realized it's not beautiful to require a Hoveround at the age of 33 because you're morbidly obese and nobody had the heart to tell you carrots and celery are the new black.

All I want is for everyone to realize how insignificant they are in the grand scheme of things.  Yes, this can be a depressing reality, but it can also be the greatest motivator.  If you really feel the need to make an impact on the world, go better yourself, improve, become someone of substance.  The more we praise mediocrity, the more mediocre this society is going to get.

Living in a world where a girl named Snooki wrote a New York Time's Bestseller makes me want to fucking strangle a kitten.

And in case you're unsure of your station in life, let me know.  I'll fill you in.

Sound Life Advice From a total Train Wreck.

Somewhere between recovering from last weekend's vodka-induced-fall-induced concussion and putting my anti-aging cream on last night, I had a harsh realization:  I'm growing up. and it's fucking terrifying.  Not physically, actually, seeing as how I've been the same size since 6th grade (which would be quite convenient if Limited Too had provided classic and timeless clothing styles), but in actual real-world terms:  I'm getting old.  As I rubbed my anti-wrinkle night cream onto my face (a night-time ritual I encourage any female over the age of 16 to do), I had a minor anxiety attack because I only have 2 years until I can justifiably start lying about my age.  This whole mid-twenties situation is starting to freak me the fuck out.  After I finished applying eye serum, I took a long look in the mirror.  Not only did I determine I am super proud of myself and my preventative measures in the fight against signs of visible aging, but I need to make a move, and fast, as to what I'm going to do with the rest of my life.

This may sound like a daunting concept, but I would also like to point out this is coming from the girl who had her first mid-life crisis at the tender age of 13.  I'm getting super irritated by the fact that I'm no longer allowed to change my major every other week, and I should probably start thinking about annoying adult words such as "stability" and "career" and "moderate drinking."  My plans up to this point had been:  marry a royal (and I haven't even met Harry yet), win the lottery, or become involved in an elaborate blackmail scheme that I profit millions of dollars from.  Since neither of these highly realistic options have panned out, and clearly I've slept with all the wrong people (otherwise I'd be ultra famous by now, and have a high-end vodka named after me), I've compiled a list of possible career options for me:

1.  Wedding Planner Extraordinaire
I'm not referring to your average wedding, with the guest list and the cake and the flowers and the lame ass toasts.  I'm referring to a new target audience:  red necks, white trash, and the lower middle class.  I plan on getting ordained to be a justice of the peace, and I plan on officiating the ceremony as well as planning it.  What's my big selling point?  FANTASTIC THEMES, that's what it is.  So, you want a pirate wedding?  I will provide a swash-buckling event!  Everything will be pirate, including your ceremony itself, which I will perform in my best pirate-speak.  I will even pay some homeless people to pillage (not rape, this is a wedding) your reception site!  I've got millions of ideas for hilariously tacky weddings, and I figure if I can offer everything for about $1000, I would be able to build up a pretty big following of idiots who don't know any better.  The best part, of course, will be the fact that I'm making a mockery of the couple's nuptials without them realizing it.  Ironically ruining the most important day of some people's lives should be quite profitable.  And enjoyable.

2.  Photographer
I realize that I have zero background in photography, but I have a natural gift.  It's called the ability to download Instagram.  Isn't that what everyone else is doing these days? 

3.  Life Coach
In case you haven't realized it, I'm fucking brilliant.  I hate everything unreasonable, and I have a wonderful grasp on reality (aside from my enormous sense of entitlement, which I don't feel is irrational at all; I'm entitled to believe I should have everything I want).  I feel as though the world would be a better place if people would let me guide their decisions.  There would be fewer toxic relationships, fewer children with dumb, trendy, misspelled names, and Southern accents may be rendered obsolete.  I'm a little unsure of why people haven't been paying me to coach their every move already, but if you're interested, I'm available. 

4.  Stand Up Comedy
Actually, this is going to happen.  I'm just so lazy.

5.  Funeral Planner
If I can plan an excellent themed wedding, I'm positive I could plan one hell of a themed funeral.  Oh, themed funerals are disrespectful?  I disagree.  I think it's disrespectful to the dead by crying.  I hate when people cry around me, mostly because I have the emotional availability of a mailbox.  I also think the whole "wear black, cry, go back to someone's house and eat casseroles" thing is so over-played.  I hate to break it to you, but everyone dies.  I see a funeral as a challenge.  Essentially, you only get one, and it's the only party with guaranteed attendance you'll ever have.  Why not throw a great one?  I feel as though I could create an entirely new market with themed funeral planning.  Not only would I be able to console the terminally ill/elderly/morbidly obese with the idea that their loved ones will be having a blast in their honor, but I'll distract them from impending doom.  Let's face it, funerals are a drag.  I intend to change that. 

6.  Vodka Promoter
I'm actually still waiting for Three Olives to get back to me.  I should probably up it to 25 e-mails a week instead of 20, I'm sure the others aren't getting through to the right people.

7.  Best selling Author
I should probably just write a book.

I Have Enough Friends, and I Hate Most of them 99% of the Time Already

As if I can't add enough items to the ever-growing list of things that make me want to gauge my eyes out with a staple, I had a brief moment in time where I thought I hated Facebook.  I grew angry reading through my news feed (which changes every four seconds, by the way.  Annoying).  I became irate every time someone tagged me in a picture.  A wall post?  Go fuck yourself.

It wasn't until I took a long hard look in the social-networking mirror that I realized it wasn't Facebook that I hated; it was the people on my friends list.

That being said, I've resolved to start holding my Facebook friends at a higher standard than I hold the idiots I interact with on a regular basis to.  No, I'm not accepting your friend request because I met you once.  No, I'm not wishing you a happy birthday because we had a poli-sci discussion together.  And, as any girl with high standards would do, I've compiled a grand list to help me clean house.

PEOPLE I CAN'T WAIT TO DELETE FROM MY FACEBOOK:

1.  Religious Zealots
With the most recent religious holiday being Easter, I was afforded a wonderful chance to see which of my idiot friends decided to post the generic statuses, including but not limited to:  "He is RISEN!"  "PRAISE BE!"  "HAVE A BLESSED EASTER EVERYONE!"  I would normally walk away from these people if I encountered them in real life, and I have no intention of abandoning my beliefs in cyber space.  Nothing is ruder than people imposing their bigoted thoughts on others.  I'm not against religion, per se, but I am against people throwing it in everyone else's face.  Sunday mornings are also a fantastic time to clean house.  The next time I have someone filling my news feed with the details of the "wonderful sermon today" I will be responding with a "delete." 

2.  People Who Post About Their Workouts
If there's one thing worse than people who impose their religion on others, it's people who brag about their workouts.  I get it, you were chubby in high school and had a hard time finding actual penetration, and now that you've got a $10.00 a month gym membership, you're basically a personal trainer.  Nobody fucking cares that you woke up at 6:00 this morning to have a protein shake and run 12 miles and now you're feeling great.  First of all, the only times I've ever seen 6:00 in the morning have been the result of a serious bender.  Second of all, I would be feeling suicidal after a 12 mile run, not great, it's fucking freezing out and it's still only 7:00 am.  Also, I'm sure it must be lonely at the top, because now that you've discovered this whole new world of super fitness, the only pictures you can post are of you, alone, in front of a mirror trying to flex, but actually just looking constipated.  I don't want to see the picture of your new cross trainers.  I could give a fuck less that you are "going to class, then CROSSFIT!  It's a way of life, gotta do it."  Shut the fuck up.  I work out too.  I mainly have been focusing on the upper body lately - swiping a credit card and bending my elbow to re-hydrate myself with wine (it's just grape juice that grew up to be awesome).  Either way, I have zero problem keeping it to myself, and everyone else should take note (as usual.  I'm infallible).

3.  Anyone who says "YOLO"
It's no secret, I've hit my mid-twenties with grace.  I am no longer a young buck, and am becoming the older, more mature, Jackie O of my generation with ease.  I had a rude awakening when I was home in CT for Christmas about just how old I am; you know you're getting old when you no longer have contact with any hometown drug dealers.  I digress.   I felt completely out of the loop on this entire "YOLO" phase.  It took me a few days, and a few painful conversations with an idiot I worked with, to learn that YOLO is an acronym for "You Only Live Once."  In true degenerate fashion, people have taken advantage of this phrase to justify their idiotic actions.  Example:  "getting wasted tonight instead of studying.  YOLO"  "running from the police.  YOLO."  I'm going to ignore the fact that "You Only Live Once" is a four word, five syllable phrase that has never needed an acronym.  Either way, each time someone decides to update their status including the phrase "YOLO" I will be updating my friends list, sans them.

4.  "Self Portrait" People
 Try as I might, I can't ignore the fact that we are the generation of celebrated mediocrity.  Oh, you watch the show Cake Boss on TLC?  You'll probably open your own bakery too, since you're so good with box-made cupcakes.  You own a digital camera?  You're a photographer, and I can totally tell by the album you posted on Facebook of off-center pictures of trees you put in sepia!  I cringe every time I see anything like this, but I've gotten used to it.  What I can't get used to are the Myspace-style mirror pictures.  I swear to fucking God, the next time a mirror picture pops up on my news feed, DELETE.  Anyone can make themselves look attractive while making a stupid face into a mirror and holding your i-Phone in a downward direction.  Who do you think you are, Snooki?  Get over yourself.  If your self-esteem is so low that you need to take pictures of yourself in hopes that someone will comment how pretty you are, I can't handle you as my friend to begin with.  Hellen Keller could see that if self-assurance is what you seek, you're probably better off not being my friend.

5.  "I'm in a Normal, Functional Relationship and I LOVE Telling Everyone."
I hate  romance, I hate sentiment, and I hate people who throw their relationship in everyone's face.  Nothing is wrong with posting photographs of the happy couple, but everything is wrong with gloating all over your status about how perfect your relationship is.  "I LOVE MY BOYFRIEND SO MUCH." good for you, Daddy issues.  Nobody gives a fuck how perfect your little relationship is, and I could not care less that you just celebrated your two week anniversary.  The only thing I want to hear about are engagements (with a close-up of the ring, so I can judge), and divorce announcements, because nothing makes me happier than murder, gore, and failed relationships.

And stop posting those stupid memes and Jenna Marbles videos.  Both insist upon themselves, and neither are all that great.

Believe it or Not, I wasn't Always THIS Awesome.

I find it outrageous that 18 is considered legally adult.  At the age of 18, I was good at cheerleading, pounding tequila, and getting pounded by frat boys.  My real-world experience was nonexistent (have I ever told you I'm from Tolland, CT?  It's not even real life there).  I'm not sure if it's my chronological enhancement (I hate aging, as a term), or the fact that I'm facing mid-life crisis #482904865209, but I've come to realize that life is one absolutely fucking fantastic roulette wheel, no matter which way you spin it.

I think every high school graduate should be required to spend a few years working before he or she decides to enter college and declare a major.  I think that if I had done what I'm doing now at the age of 18, my second degree choice would have become my first degree choice.  Life makes so much more sense when it smacks you in the face.  I think the same goes for relationships; you should be required to have a few really ridiculous experiences before you're allowed to settle down (more on that later).

I digress.  A little while ago, I received a facebook invitation to my high school reunion.  While there's absolutely no chance in fuck that I'll be attending, the invitation itself was quite thought provoking.  In my opinion (which, by the way, is fact, so it's actually the only opinion that matters), reunions of any sort are a time measuring mechanism; a way to gauge who's changed, who hasn't, who's succeeded, who's failed.  Don't get me wrong, I love a chance to tell people they've gotten fat just as much as the next asshole, but I don't think a high school reunion is any type of event I'll ever attend.

Here's why:  I have minimal interest in actually interacting with the people I was forced to be educated alongside.  I enjoy stalking them on facebook from time to time, and cringe every time I hear the mention of a familiar name through a third party source (and for the record, friends from CT, stop telling people how I'm doing.  Tell them I've become a gypsy or something.  They're just nosy, not caring).  I also have found that the people I find to be the most worthwhile human beings are ones that weren't in my direct circle of friends in high school, so a reunion wouldn't be the best venue for a get-together (I'm talking to you, Ashley Adams).

All this being said, I'm armed with a bottle of Apothic Red and a highly reflective nature as of late.  So, without further ado:

SHIT I WISH I COULD HAVE TOLD MY 16-YEAR-OLD SELF:

1.  You've spent the past five years trying to impress the assholes you want to be your friends.  Regardless of what you do or say, you're better than them.  Not in the snooty, turn-up-the-nose kind of way, but in the sense that you actually are a genuinely good person.  The fact that you've kept the secrets of who screwed who's boyfriend, and who's started which rumor, goes to prove how weak you are to your own morals.  I know popularity might seem like the most important thing right now, but, believe it or not, ten years from now, none of this will matter.  You're going to meet some of the best friends that the world could give you - just not during your time in high school.  Be nice to everyone, but it's okay to be more judgmental of character.  This is high school:  popular doesn't mean "well liked."  The girls you worry about impressing and being on good terms with?  You're going to hit a point, about 3 or 4 years from now, where you'll forget some of their names, I promise.

2.  You're actually amazing.  It's okay to be smart, and the only dumb thing about you is your unwillingness to show it.  Slacking off in class is a bad habit, and it will catch up to you in college (I promise).  And those boys that you think won't like you because you're way smarter than them?  One of them winds up getting super fat, the other one continues to hook up with high school girls throughout his entire time in college, and I'm pretty sure the rest wind up in jail at some point or another.  Social status might seem like the most important thing right now, but trust me, it's not.  Telling people you want to be a high school English teacher because it elicits the response "I bet you'll be the hot teacher all the boys want" is actually significantly less cool than admitting you are that weird, introverted chick who enjoys books and would be perfectly fine being a hermit and writing a best-selling novel by the age of 25.

3.  Bleach blonde hair is not a good look for you.  You're going to go through phases of toying around with your appearance, mainly because you have a hard time trying to get others to see you the way you see yourself.  At all costs, don't bother with the nose piercing, or the tongue piercing (they wind up being a waste of money, you'll take them out later anyway).  Don't dye your hair jet black (it's going to take three bleaching sessions to correct that one - you, and your wallet, are going to regret it).  The tattoos are fine - they wind up being a part of the person that totally kicks mid 20's ass.

4.  The secret to a good relationship?  You won't know it until you know what it's like to love yourself.  So, stop trying to find the perfect boy.  By now, you've dealt with your share of assholes who have used you, and you've retaliated in due fashion.  There's no need to travel across the country because you think someone might have the slightest interest in you, and please, please don't consider moving your entire life to Austin because someone tells you you're pretty.  The person you're looking for will come into your life when you're ready for him to - and it's only going to be once you've dealt with your own issues and grown up enough to realize what you need, not what you think you need.  The best part?  He's been here all along.  You'll see.

5.  Give your mom some credit.  You're a punk ass 16 year old, and she's doing the best she can.  You'll understand more as time goes on, but please realize that love brings out the best and the worst in people - the vicious fights and screaming matches all really are a labor of love, and the frustration unconditional love causes.  Oh, and FYI, the next time you decide to stay out all night, just call.  Walking through the door at 9:00 AM with a smirk on your face is never the best way to disobey curfew.

6.  Stop being such a people-pleaser.  The minute you figure out you can't make everyone happy is the minute the rest of your life begins.  You've spent your time telling everyone what you thought they wanted to hear from you.  Ironically enough, once you start speaking your mind and just being yourself, you'll find the best friends of your life.  Even better?  Everyone knows the real you up front, so you don't have to second-guess anymore.  It's a great feeling, trust me.

7.  Wake up every day and thank the world for how lucky you are.  Put good energy out there - once you learn how to do this, you'll reap the benefits.  Trust me on this.

8.  Stop telling people you don't have a gag reflex.  You're attracting the wrong type of attention.  However, your alcohol tolerance is, and always will be, a thing of beauty.

9.  Save all your CD's.  Trust me.  You still listen to the same shit later in life.  And you still get pissed at people who know THE ONE SINGLE your little emo/pop punk band had on the radio and have better tickets to the concert than you do.  That part never changes.

Preach.

I Would Resolve to Hate you Less, But You're Still an Idiot. Sorry.

Assuming that everyone had a tolerable holiday season, I've decided that the annoying "holiday cheer" should have long since departed everyone's daily routines, and it's more than appropriate for me to impose my (always correct) opinions and observations on everyone.  Seeing as how I have already stated my disdain for Jesus' Birthday Semantics, and I really don't observe MLK Jr. Day save sending the four black people I know a text message, I've decided to set the record straight on what I truly plan on doing with 2012 (aka, my 23 year on Earth).

My New Year's Resolutions:

1.  Lose Weight/Live a Healthier Lifestyle
This seems to be a common trend for everyone in the world, as anyone who frequents a fitness club could observe.  Ah yes, what better a time than the dead of winter to resolve to shed the pounds you've been packing on over the years and neglected to lose in years past?  My thoughts on weight loss/healthy eating habits are this:  give up.  I don't believe in diets.  I do, however, believe in eating when you're hungry (or drunk).  I have always lived an active lifestyle.  Aside from dancing on bar tops and sprinting from the vehicle to the bar, I also run frequently (oh, and I was a cheerleader for the better (or worse, can't decide) half of my life).  I think there's a formula that says the more you workout, the more weight you lose.  I figure if you can couple some physical activity with less caloric intake, you're on your way to Kate Moss.
Just kidding.  Who am I fooling here?  Living a healthier life style would mean banning the excessive alcohol consumption and recreational activities, and don't you dare threaten me with a good time.  My basic philosophy on weight control is this:  if you wake up late enough in the day, you can skip breakfast.  After going for a run or doing some intense cardio, consuming an iced coffee is a great way to get your energy up.  Snack as needed.  Generally, the best thing to do after working out it is to pass out for a few hours to fend off your hangover, and, once you wake up, start pre-gaming so hard that you forget to eat.  Worst case scenario, you hit the drive through late night.  Most of the time, greasy fast food has a way of coming back up in record time, so it's pretty much as if you never ate it in the first place.  When all else fails, nicotine is fabulous for curing cravings.  Try it.  Or, if you're like me, you can incorporate food into your drinking habits.  Here's an ideal day:
Breakfast:  Bloody Mary (there's tomato juice in it, and if you have like 3, you've got your daily serving of veggies covered.  Throw a celery stalk and some olives in there and you're golden.  Also, I like them with black pepper and tobasco sauce.  I read somewhere that spicy food kicks up your metabolism.  Even if it doesn't, tell yourself that.  Think thin).
Lunch:  something small, consisting of a half a sandwich or a huge salad (no dressing.  Dressing is gross.  Why would you want to change the flavor of your greens?  Add a tomato or something), and accompanied with something non-alcoholic, like white wine or champagne (made from grapes.  This is basically a fruits & veggies only diet).
Dinner:  vodka.  It's made from potatoes.  Make a dirty martini with blue cheese stuffed olives and you're good to go.  I like to have 3 Olives Cake for dessert.
Don't believe in cancer, it's always the good who die young.  Look it up, Billy Joel even said so, and who am I to question someone who's work was part of a Broadway show?
So basically, I realized that this NYR was null and void, because there's nothing about my daily routine I see a need to fix.

2.  Be Nice to People.
I really thought long and hard about this one.  I realized that I can't fight human nature, and it's in my nature to be informative.  I was almost a teacher, until I realized that I hate children, I'm way too money-hungry for that salary, and I dropped out of college.  It's in my nature to share knowledge.  I think it's only fair to let people know when they're being idiots.  It's not me being mean, it's me trying to help.  I don't understand why people are so sensitive about constructive criticism.  If people hired me as their life coach, I guarantee you there would be a lot less stupid girls in loveless relationships and far fewer children with stupid, trendy names in this world.  Apparently, this would make me 0/2.  This is another New Year's Resolution that does not apply to me.

3.  Reconnect with Old Friends.
Just kidding.  Care to know what I'll be doing in May of 2012?  Like I have a clue, but I damn sure will NOT be attending my high school reunion.  If I could use two words to describe my general attitude towards the people I was forced to be educated alongside in my youth, they would be "uninterested" and "apathetic."  No.  I didn't care what you did with yourself five years ago, and I sure as hell don't care now.  The only way I would go near anything related to my high school class is if I were offered some sort of time-travel opportunity where I could impart my current wisdom and knowledge unto my 15 year old self.  I would have wasted even less time with those people, and would have actually spent time getting to know people that were truly interesting (ironically enough, the people I am most intrigued by and have the most respect for of my graduating class weren't close friends at all).
So thanks, but no thanks.  I'm a firm believer that wherever life takes you, the people you're meant to have in  yours will be with you regardless.  I also don't think there's a chance I could get through any type of get together of this sort sober, which inevitably means I'll wind up telling someone he or she looks terrible & has gained an unforgivable amount of weight.  0/3

Which would lead me to my real resolution:
Survive the apocalypse.  It's the only logical goal to give myself, really.

It's Time to Air Some Grievances.

I fucking hate the holidays.
I know, shocker, right?  Who would have ever guessed I hate a time of year dedicated to being merry & bright? I do, however, strongly support the holiday Festivus (For the rest of us).  It all began on Seinfeld, and basically, there is no Christmas tree or gift giving, but there is a non-decorated Festivus pole and an airing of grievances.  Sign.  Me.  Up.

However, before I black myself out of 2011 and into 2k12, I'd like to air a few grievances I have with the world.

1.  Elf on a Shelf.
Okay, "what the fuck is this noise?" you may ask.  Question answered:  it's a doll of the elf variety that over-achieving mothers put in their homes around Christmas time.  The elf supposedly watches the children of the house and reports back to Santa.  The idea is basically the elf can parent your children for a month.  First of all, Santa's getting lazy if you ask me.  What the hell happened to him being the all-knowing power?  Now he has elves do his bidding?  Weak sauce, Fat Man.  Second of all, why the hell would any parent go to that much work to not discipline their children?  Apparently, the elf is supposed to move locations and wreak havoc on the home.  Um, no thanks.  If I ever reproduce (which I'm not planning on, because I'm a responsible person who cares about the future of our society), there is no chance in hell I will support any of this elf nonsense.  There will be no further shenanigans when it comes to this holiday.  There's already enough accessories; there's a tree, and stockings, and people expect you to put up lights too.  Why do people insist on making terrible seasons worse than they already are?  If I ever have children, they will get their presents and shut up.  I refuse to move an elf around my home.  My mother never did any of these things with me, and I'm perfectly well-adjusted.

2.  Smirnoff.
Okay, it's no secret, Smirnoff Vodka is the World's Best Tasting Vodka (for people who typically drink gasoline or have no taste buds).  It's also very evident they're way behind on the desert-flavored vodka trend.  Oh, just now you're deciding to make whipped cream flavored vodka?  Call up Pinnacle and Three Olives and ask if you can borrow your notes from the past two years.  I would be very content to ignore their blatant disregard for punctuality if it hadn't been for their new advertising campaign and choice of spokesperson.  Amber Rose?  Seriously?  Who knows what Amber Rose is famous for?  If you guessed "banging Kanye West" you are correct!  Oh, good to know that all you have to do to become the face of a vodka brand is get penetrated by an egotistical black man with a drinking problem.  Get in line, sister.  Who the hell assigned her any credibility?  Also, have you seen the commercials?  Not only are they terrible, but she speaks like she has down syndrome and is in the middle of having a stroke.  I really find it offensive when people over-enunciate their consonants; it generally makes me feel like I'm watching Teen Mom (which I do, but only Tuesday nights at 10).  Has everyone forgotten the art of reading out loud?  Did everyone else in this country miss the first fucking grade?  Also, the tag line is "Because Vodka Never Felt This Good."  I disagree.  NOTHING ABOUT SMIRNOFF FEELS GOOD.  I have a very specific criteria I enforce while deciding on my libations, the general guideline being that if you have to bend over to pick it up off the shelf, you'll be bending over to throw it up at some point over the night.  I'm going to ignore any sexual innuendo attempts by Smirnoff in replacing "tasted" with "felt" and continue to elaborate on how there is no activity you can do with a bottle of Smirnoff that will feel good.  The last time I drank Smirnoff, I was in Vegas, and if I recall correctly, I couldn't feel a thing after that, so who knows if what went down was good or blatantly mediocre.  Who.  The hell knows.  Furthermore, I've been campaigning for the past three years of my life to be sponsored by Three Olives.  As in, I would like for them to send me free vodka and support my already expensive drinking habits.  Why do people that suck at life keep getting the things I want?

3.  The Holiday Season.
What the fuck is it about Jesus's birthday that causes everyone to turn into maniacs?  Everyone within a four mile radius of any shopping plaza is rude.  Nobody's happy about spending a ton of money on people you're forced to see.  I hate forced interaction, and the holidays are a breeding ground for it.  Oh, yay, let's all get together and stand around with people we don't like in the spirit of Christmas.  The only type of holiday spirit I can ever get down with comes in a frosted bottle, and its name is Three Olives.   If there was any way to skip this entire Christmas ordeal and go right to New Years, I'm all for it.  Also, I really wish Starbucks would stop pushing it's peppermint agenda down everyone's throats.
Oh, and if anyone else gets engaged over the next two weeks, I'm going to throw up.

Happy holidays you ass clowns!

Word to Your Mom, I Came to Drop Bombs.

I've spent much of my youth searching for the meaning of life.  Even though I've learned it's "fuck bitches, get money (repeat, one would presume)," I refused to accept the idea that all we ever will become is the sum of our choices and the legacy we leave.

What about the choices we don't make, and the legacy we could have left?

Don't feed me some "carpe diem" bullshit, and I swear, if you try to respond with "what's meant to be will find a way," I will respond with a roundhouse kick to your jaw.

I think that the majority of society encourages that the school-college-marriage-family (with a career thrown in) prototype be followed.  I think this is because most people crave security.  I think most people find comfort in challenges that have a definite reward.  It's no surprise; there's a reason there are more people who decide to enter the business field than to pursue careers as freelance photographers.  People like the idea of a salary, of a stable living situation.

But what about people who don't?  How long does it take to realize that maybe, just maybe, you're not cut out to fit into the mold you've been trying so hard to fit into?

I know, this is some pretty cutting edge stuff, right?  A 22 year old college dropout bartender who is contemplating her future.  Hold on tight, I don't want to throw a curve ball at you with this new and revolutionary material.

In the midst of my most recent midlife crisis (I use this term lightly.  I think it's a little arrogant and presumptuous to assume that 45 or so is the appropriate age for mid-life to occur at.  How do I know when my life will end, and who am I to arbitrarily assign an age to it's halfway point?  Thus, I've been having midlife crisis' since I was 13.  I figure if I make it to 26, I can keep having them and increase my chances of making it to 52.  If not, can't say I didn't try), I suddenly realized I've been living a huge fucking lie.

I generally was a high-achiever in life, in most categories:  school, sports, etc.  I've always been able to set goals and attain them, because I have an awesome work ethic.  If something sparks my interest, I can guarantee I will work for it.  I used to have such a spark and such drive to accomplish my goals.  Once I went to college, that quickly fizzled.  Most people figured it was the massive quantities of booze I consumed on a daily basis.  Some blamed it on the cocaine.  While I refused to let a substance take the blame for my motivational demise, I opted for the ultimate cop out - my general response when people inquired about my lack of scholastic success was that I "had no idea what I wanted to do with my life" and that I was "taking time to figure it out."

Okay, confession.  I do know.   But before we get there -

The term "suffering artist" irritates me.  I feel there's a negative connotation that comes along with it, one that conjures the image of an under-fed, over-pretentious person dressed in tattered clothes who spends hours upon hours without human contact for the preservation  of their craft.  Truth be told, I think the real suffering artists are the people who hide what drives them, what moves them, what they're passionate about.  I think the people who truly suffer are the ones who opt for the safer, more widely accepted versions of themselves and their created lives while they perfect the art of acting as if everything is fine.  I think there's nothing worse than having to look back on your life and wish you had done it all differently.

That being said, at the young and completely oblivious age of 18, I pledged to get a degree and get a real job at some point in my life.  Maybe in teaching (wait, I fucking hate children).  Maybe in business?  Sales, perhaps?  I have been trudging along, trying to find my niche, hoping I can find a field I love and one that will appear to be grown up and mature.  I was only kidding myself.  The only reason I haven't finished school is because I don't want to, deep down.  There has been something holding me back, and that's the knowledge that regardless of how much money I make be able to make at some PR job, I'll never be happy.

I really have two goals in life:  to become a recluse and to be happy.  I'm not talking about the circumstantial, fleeting moment of contentment.  I want to be genuinely and wholly satisfied.  I don't to have to keep moving around, searching for my missing piece.

That being said- Fuck you guys, I'm writing a book.

Drink Like a Champion. No, Actually Do It.

In case anyone was wondering, I'm quite the judgmental bitch.  I will form my opinion on any given situation within a matter of minutes.  I can tell you exactly what I think of you within about ten minutes of speaking with you.  Also, I enjoy concocting elaborate narratives about the lives and thoughts of individuals I observe while people watching.  This being said, I think it's safe to say the main factor I judge people on is their choice in libations.  I'll admit it, I have reached a new level of shallow.  I no longer judge people based on their clothing or accessories, or even by their political beliefs (well, that's a lie.  I still do that).  I am a firm believer I can assume everything I need to know about an individual after I know what their booze of choice is.

Allow me to elaborate.

As someone who has been drinking heavily for at least the past 8 years of my life, I may not be able to pride myself in a lot of the decisions I've made while intoxicated, but I am definitely proud of my refinement in alcoholic taste.  I no longer can stand the sight of cheap vodka and cringe at the idea of Nattie Light (if you grew up in Tolland, CT, you've probably blacked out on Dubra once or twice, and if you're me, you've drank an entire fifth of it and subsequently flashed Yank at the welcome back dance.  That's neither here nor there).

So what are my first reactions to people who ask that their mixed drinks be made with bottom-shelf quality liquor, or get really excited that Bud Light and Coors Light are on draft?  I either assume that they are either underage, or total white trash.  Or total underage white trash.  Either way, the level you drink at is an automatic indicator of your social status.  Only the best people drink the best alcohol, duh.

As far as beers go, it's so basic to assume that the best beer you can get is Blue Moon.  Allow me to introduce you to the 21st century, micro-brewery edition.  Micro brews are a great way to explore various alcoholic tastes and various types of beer.  Never heard of an IPA?  Don't know the difference between an ale and a lager?  Hone up on your beer knowledge!  It will make you seem smarter, and will in turn, make you attractive to smarter people.  You'll be trendier, and will appear much more refined than in your frat boy, Coors Light-drinking years.  Also, micro-brews tend to have a higher a.b.v. than the standard light beer, and a much more tolerable flavor than the disgusting national brand heavy beer, so it will take less of them to achieve the party buzz you're seeking (recession tip).  However, the stand-by's such as Coors Light and Bud Light are very useful when one needs to consume large quantities of beer in a limited amount of time (including, but not limited to, activities such as:  chugging, shot gunning, beer pong, beer bat, flip cup, etc).  This makes sense however, because nobody that is actually able to post all of their party pictures on Facebook plays those games on a regular basis anyway.

When it comes to wine, I am far from a connoisseur.  However, I will maintain my knowledge that white zinfandel will always be stripper juice.  That's a fact.  And I judge people who claim to be "classy" while guzzling the rose wine (and most likely wearing a $19.99 pair of Charlotte Russe heels with matching earrings, belt, and chunky necklace to boot).  Give up girl, and don't let your acrylics break when you hold onto the stemware.

As far as liquor goes, I really form my opinions on people when I view their hard liquor intake.  Nothing makes me want to slap someone harder than those who drink fruity mixed drinks that are like, 1 part vodka to every 4 parts juice.  If I wanted lemonade with a "splash" of booze, I'd go back to sixth grade, thanks.  Go big or go home is what I say.  Allow yourself a base liquor, and one mixer of choice.  My personal favorite mixed drinks include:  vodka & soda, vodka vodka & soda, tequila and OJ, tequila & soda with a splash of OJ, Jack on the rocks, vodka water with a splash of sour, and whiskey water with a splash of sour (to name a few).  I refuse to drink vodka cranberries, and I advise others to do the same.  Cranberry juice is only useful if you have a UTI, and if you're slamming vodka cranberries, I think you'd be better off spending the night finding the root of how you contracted the UTI in the first place.  Detest Grey Goose, because it's over rated, and predictable.  Instead, allow yourself to luxury of Belvedere or Hangar.  There is nothing wrong with Ketel One.  If you're balling on a budget, 3 Olives is a personal favorite of mine.   The golden rule of liquor is that if you have to bend down to get it off the shelf, you could probably use it to clean your sink, and I don't like drinking Pine-Sol.  My assessment of alcohol quality is derived from whether or not I could drink it on the rocks.  If it's truly a decent spirit, I can enjoy it with just a little bit of ice.  And a lot of good times.

As far as cocktails go, blue Long Islands and Electric Lemonades are for broke undergrads.  I'm judging you, 42 year old woman, who asks for a Blue Long Island with extra lemons and a fucking cherry.  I'm judging you.

Yes, fun shots are fun to do.  For like, two rounds, on your 21st birthday.  Grow a pair and shoot straight.  Not only are birthday cake shots a pain in the ass for a bartender to make, but nothing flashes the "amateur" light like asking for a round of Dirty Girl Scouts, especially after your a few deep.  Have you ever puked up creme de menthe?  I don't recommend it.

Overall, I'd say that drinking is probably one of my favorite past times, aside from berating people (generally while drinking), and spending money (generally on alcohol).  When you're this good at something, it's hard not to look down on those of lesser talent.  But don't say I didn't try to help.