Can I get a Groundhog Day?

Today started off with so much promise. I had an interview scheduled to work for an amazing chef to be her personal assistant. I didn't really sleep well with all the anticipation, but I left myself 15 extra minutes I took a cab and still got there 10 minutes late. Curse the New York City traffic! When I get there, the girl that I set up the interview with ushers me into the chef's office as I'm trying to catch my breath and slow my heartbeat down so it is not completely audible. A little back story: I got this interview through a friend of mine who works in the restaurant group. I had (wrongly) assumed that they would be interviewing a ton of different people and thought that I would be screened by the woman who set up the interview time with me. Nope, straight into the thick of it. And it just gets worse from there. The most painful moments from my interview keep replaying in my mind like a GIF that just won't quit. Buzzfeed could do a "10 Worst Moments" list with all the GIFs in my mind. I actually think this is the worst interview I have ever given for the best job I have ever interviewed for.

I'm sending a thank you note, but I think I'm back at square one in the job hunt. Do not pass go, do not collect $200. Say, what kind of incantation would I have to chant to get a do-over on this day? BEETLEJUICE! BEETLEJUICE! BEETLEJUICE!

Four-Letter Word For Censorship?

Anyone catch The Oscars this past Sunday? I did. All three and a half hours of it. If you were doing something real with your life, bravo. Keep doing your thang. The ceremony itself is of no consequence. The juicy stuff comes after the show in the form of dribble that every dodo feels they need to broadcast on twitter, facebook, blogs, news sites, sky writing, town crier, graffiti, what have you. This time, a writer from The Onion tweeted that most adorable child actor ever, Quvenzhané Wallis, is a cunt. I'm a big fan of The Onion, but really? This little girl is going to be the next Annie. You just called little orphan Annie a cunt. The sun will NOT come out tomorrow, unidentified Onion writer. 

Oh sure, she totally had it coming. And she'll DEFINITELY get the biting wit of that tweet. I'm sure she'll look at it and think, "what an insightful and succinct examination into the media and the Hollywood Foreign Press."NINE. SHE'S NINE. Not to mention child actors have a 50/50 shot of being fucked up. Best case scenario, the writer was poorly satirizing America's obsession with celebs. Worst case, he's just calling a talented African-American girl a word that most people consider to be the filthiest of cuss words. 

After an hour, the tweet was taken down and the next day an apology was issued. However, now former Onion staffers are fighting back crying censorship. I didn't know that this was the first retraction The Onion had ever issued but I think it was a wise decision made by the CEO, Steve Hannah. Maybe it is taking away "editorial freedom," but there's a difference between satirizing someone, like a politician, in a funny insightful way and satirizing a nine year old, who hopefully doesn't even know what the word cunt means. The Onion's usual targets are politicians, governments, celebrities and religion--people and organizations whose actions should be examined and made fun of. 

After all this cunt business, no one is even talking about what a great job Quvenzhané did in Beasts of the Southern Wild. And no one is even talking about the original issue that the tweeter was trying to get at, which only goes to prove that shock for shock's sake is not always the best plan. 

What If?

There are some days when I want to feel like I'm not letting my brain atrophy, but I don't want to crack open any textbooks. So what do I do to quench (or rather, dampen) my thirst for knowledge? I head to the Netflix documentary section. Today I saw something that piqued my interest because of its relevance in my life today. As a recently unemployed, somewhat directionless 20-something, I spend a lot of time on Craigslist. I'm not talking trade a coffee table for a blowey, just job stuff. When I saw the premise for Craigslist Joe, I thought, "really? This dude is gonna try to survive for 30 days based on nothing but Craigslist ads? Pssshyeahright." Joe Garner's central thesis poses this question: is technology hindering or enhancing our sense of community? But I think he actually boils down to the the age old question: is man good or evil? 

Joe ends up taking a lasso-shaped journey around America stopping mostly in major cities with the occasional pit stop in a small town and I think that based on his experience, we can assume that man is good. And I hate to be the one jaded jerk who shits all over the sunny happy unicorn rainbows party, but I have to wonder if the circumstances would have been any different if Joe wasn't a regular looking white dude who had a camera man following him around. I also have to wonder how much more altruistic these strangers became once they saw a camera pointed in their faces. Joe looks like a Joe. Remember in 2008 when McCain based half of his presidential campaign on wanting to help Main St. America and the regular guys? The Joe Plummers of America! McCain met Joe Garner and decided to base his campaign on him. He was well groomed, wore jeans, a plain jacket and a backpack the entire time. But would Joe have spent more than one night sleeping in a booth in a coffee shop if he looked a little more homeless and had a hidden camera? Would these strangers have been extra nice and given him food and clothes?

The other issue is safety. I don't think he ever had to worry too much about safety since he has a walking insurance policy following him in the form of Kevin the cameraman, but as a woman who has traveled in a foreign country by herself and gotten pick-pocketed, I can't help but think boy, it would have been nice to have a camera man following me to record the fucker who stole my passport and money. I know plenty of women who have traveled alone successfully, but when it actually happens to you your opinions lean the other way, like McCain and torture (gosh, lots of McCain parallels here). And I didn't even get assaulted! But even pick-pocketing left me with that nagging paranoia I can never  fully shake. That and the fact that my parents are avid local news and 20/20 watchers. Goddamn it, John Stossel. Crushing my optimism, one episode at a time. 

This is not to discredit his efforts at all. He was proactive in finding free events in which to meet people and he volunteered in the cities that he stayed in for more than a couple of days, trading labor for a free meal or a place to stay. I also think he had to be smart in what postings he responded to. 

When Joe's mother asked him to sum up his trip, he said that it was inspiring. And whether or not he meant to inspire as well as be inspired, it has made me reexamine my trust issues and I can only hope that I meet as many generous, kind-hearted strangers as Joe met so I can say "HA!" to that John Stossel voice in the back of my head. My other take-away came when the credits rolled and Zach Galifianakis was listed as the Executive Producer, which made think, "Huh. People are surprising."

Valentine's Day. A day to celebrate with your snookumshoneyboobear. Well today I celebrate with New York City! It's my two week anniversary with the city and I'm pretty content. I've had my usual Laugh/Cry moments, but hey, I moved to a new city I didn't become a new person. Here's a recap of my first two weeks in NYC:

-Bought a massive winter coat for the upcoming blizzard Nemo (why name it Nemo, meteorology dudes? Not only did we have to suffer through a blizzard, but we had to suffer through so many Finding Nemo jokes. And joke is a generous word). This is what I look like:

 I've been seriously spoiled by the mild South Carolina winters.

-Also bought an app to help me navigate the subway system. Thank god I didn't move here pre-iPhone because I would most certainly get mugged walking down the street with my head in a subway map. With my nifty app, I can discreetly pretend like I'm checking something really important. Work emails! Social engagements! Stock prices! I could be checking any one of these things! But in reality, I'm just trying to find my way to a bakery.

-Helped a couple find the F train. Practically a local, right? Then I looked down at my fancy app and realized I was on the wrong road.

-I was offered a job at a real estate leasing firm in Williamsburg run by some Hasidic Jews. A friend of a friend presented the opportunity to me and while I was grateful for the offer, real estate sales is everything I never wanted to do. But hey, I'm one for one in interviews and job offers. Send some good juju my way, internet people. Mama needs a cool new job.

-Made friends with some locals! For instance, when I went to the grocery store, I was one those obnoxious people who had bags but forgot about them until the cashier was half way done bagging. After I piped up, she muttered some expletive under her breath and I said "Thanks!" and went along my merry way. Margie and I aren't BFF yet, but slowly I melt her icy exterior. I've actually met some cool friends of friends since being here, but I definitely need to join some sort of organization and get some friends. How do you make friends? A knitting circle? Is that what the kids are doing these days? But seriously, if you're not in school, don't work with cool people, already have friends who can introduce you to other nice people, how does one meet other people?

Sooo you guys ponder that while I watch When Harry met Sally and 10 Things I Hate About You. What? I'm not allowed to be cliche on Valentine's Day? The whole damn holiday is a cliche. Just because I'm sans man this (and every) V-Day doesn't mean I can't enjoy the best parts of the holiday: chocolate and rom-coms. Love you bye!

The Ultimate Laugh/Cry

Well readers, I said Bon Voyage to Columbia, South Carolina and like the Jeffersons, I am movin' on up to New York City, (Lower) East Side. A friend of a friend needed to sublet her apartment for two months so I carped that diem and took it.

I had about three weeks to tell everyone in Columbia that I was leaving for New York and everyone had slightly varying reactions but they all had about a million questions to ask. No, I don't have a job yet. Yes, I'm nervous about that. Yes, I have friends up there that could probably help me with that particular issue. No, I still don't know what I want to do with my life. Yes, reader, I am finished playing 20 questions with myself.

It was actually really fun to be the person leaving. Dinners and parties were thrown for me. Friends from different groups came together and it wasn't a George Costanza worlds are colliding thing! It was kind of like my birthday lasted for three weeks. Wait, why didn't I get birthday cake for three weeks then? Anyhow, I was so busy that I didn't really have a chance to realize how much I would miss my friends and the comfort of my predictable life until I was packing up my car with my closest friends. I started to cry and then, the ultimate laugh/cry. I turned the ignition on and this song came on the radio:

I have never laugh/cried so hard in my life. Then as I was driving towards the highway listening to the graduation theme song of a generation, I saw in my peripheral vision a woman look at me with a look of pity and confusion as she unabashedly watched me blow my nose and continue to laugh/cry hysterically. It was the most fitting way to end my time in Columbia.

So tomorrow, I begin my life in New York City. In my wildest dreams, I find my dream job, dream man and dream apartment, but I know that I will probably just join the ranks of the "Girls" generation meaning one laugh/cry moment after another. But I am optimistic about the possibilities that NYC will bring. Why else would every romantic comedy and sitcom about attractive friends trying to have it all be based in NYC?

I have about four hours to sleep before I get up and drive with my parents to NYC, so goodnight. I guess when I get there, I'll already look like every other tired New Yorker. Already fitting in! Yes!

First World Problems

This morning while I was lamenting my less than stellar bank account number and making a PB&J I thought to myself, "well, I better get used to this for a while if I want to buy Christmas presents." Then a little ping went off and a thought bubble floated over my head that said "#FIRSTWORLDPROBLEM." Yeah, thought bubbles float over me. Be jealous.

First, that PB&J wasn't even a PB&J--It was almond butter and artisanal jam on multi-grain protein bread. That was maybe the douchiest thing I've ever written. Apologies. Second, even though my family, myself included, have very expensive taste, doesn't necessarily mean that I have to empty my sad, small piggy bank. There I go lamenting again (thank you dictionary.com word of the day). Let's call my bank account quaint. Anyhow, I just have to be more creative with my gift giving. And on the flip side, I shouldn't want so many fancy things. The fact that my idea of "roughing it" includes the fanciest PB&J in history means I'm not in real trouble yet. When you see me on a VH1 rehab reality show, then I can start being a whiny bitch, but just for a little bit because those girls always end up getting kicked out of the house.

So in the name of perspective, I'm listing my first world problems.

1. I can tweet about my first world problems on my iPhone.
2. I ate one and half of that fancy PB&J. Then I felt really full.
3. Today I have the day off and I'm trying to fit in Christmas shopping, painting my nails, cleaning the house, and dinner/drinks with friends.
4. My feet get sweaty in my Tom's so I have to wear those little footy socks. LIFE IS SO HARD.
5. I got pissed at Target last week because they didn't have my Puffs Plus with Lotion so I had to go without the lotion.
6. I had to open a bottle of wine with one of those traveling corkscrews because I couldn't find my other one that involves less than no effort.
7. While cleaning the house today I sighed because not all my dishes would fit in my dishwasher so I had to hand wash a few.
8. My roommate's dad came to the apartment early this morning. I got mad because they woke me up at 9:15.


That is what I can think of off the top of my head. So instead of doing all that Christmas shopping today I think I'm just gonna sign up for the Peace Corps. I'll be in the Sudan for the next two years so if I don't update anytime soon, that's why. Peace and organic free-range chicken grease, ya'll!

**I think blogging/internet complaining about your first world problems is in itself a first world problem. Sorry to get so meta. I swear I'm not high.

Step One: Admitting You Have A Problem

I've tried to deny it, but I'm just going to say it: I'm addicted to Pinterest. I just wasted damn near half a day pinning things I can never buy and rearranging my pinboards so when I look back at all the things I can't buy, it's more organized.

Lately I've gotten into this terrible habit of sitting in my bed, turning on Netflix and pinning the shit out of the internet. Today I turned on Breaking Bad. I know it's sacrilegious that a TV junkie like me isn't already obsessed with this show, but for some reason I couldn't get into it. However, an embarrassing seven episodes later, I am still watching Breaking Bad. These two things are a lethal combination resulting in a junkie couch potato who forgets what time it is, eating meals, showering--you know, normal people things. And even though I understand that my addictions pale in comparison to Walter White's life which resembles a tower of wobbling Jenga pieces, mine still impede upon my life.

Pinterest's goal is to connect people through things we all find interesting. I have never reached out to one of the strangers on Pinterest and said "Hey! You like what I like! Cool beans!" I don't understand why every website has to "connect" everyone on the smallest level. For me, Pinterest could lose the social media aspect and just be an organized dream board or whatever Oprah calls it. But that's beside the point. Another rant for another time. Connecting people is not the real allure of pinning for me; it's dreaming that I could have alllll the things. Knock out one 'n' from pinning and you've got the real feeling that comes from a marathon Pinterest session. Just pining away for couture clothing, gourmet meals, trips around the world, mansions, Ryan Gosling or the ability to DIY all those things (btdubs, a DIYed Ryan Gosling is just a quart sized mason jar with his face modge podged on). What's that I see? I can make a table out of my old tissue boxes? 27 ways to achieve the perfect smokey eye? PINNED. I will definitely come back to that and try all 27 ways. Then with my perfect smokey eye, I'll attract the perfect smokin' hot man then he will build me the table out of all those tissue boxes I'm now hoarding. Then he will propose and I finally put my "Here Comes the Bride..." pinboard to good use. The whole wedding will be in a barn made out of mason jars (seriously, there is so much shit about mason jars on Pinterest). What ends up actually happening is that you use the 24 mason jars you bought as Tupperware when you've lost all your tops in the Tupperware organizing project you also pinned.

Tangent: I wonder what Walter White's Pinterest would look like. Maybe he has a board for all the new chemistry supplies he wants. A board of inspirational quotes for when the drug business really wears him down that day. 

**Addition to this post: I fell asleep last night watching the masterpiece that is Breaking Bad  at around 2 a.m. before I even finished this post. At this rate, this will happen to me:

Also, sorry not sorry for all the Portlandia plugs.