"I do think New Year's resolutions can't technically be expected to begin on New Year's Day, don't you? Since, because it's an extension of New Year's Eve, smokers are already on a smoking roll and cannot be expected to stop abruptly on the stroke of midnight with so much nicotine in the system. Also dieting on New Year's Day isn't a good idea as you can't eat rationally but really need to be free to consume whatever is necessary, moment by moment, in order to ease your hangover. I think it would be much more sensible if resolutions began generally on January the second. " ~ Bridget Jones's Diary
Believe in them or not, resolutions are fun to make. Even when they start on January 2nd and end January 3rd. So, let's hear 'em.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
2010 Resolutions Report Card: Fenella
I'm not all that into resolutions so this could be interesting...
I will...
- Visit Violet
I think I'm off to a flying start! Vi and I were reunited this year for an amazing 10day reunion complete with some McNerdy love, a roadtrip and someone thinking we were lesbians. A++
- Follow 'The Four Man Plan' (sub resolution- read 'The Four Man Plan'. It's on my nightstand).
I have yet to read 'The Four Man Plan' so obviously haven't come close to following it. And am now with the White Horse who probably wouldn't be too happy if I started following it. Before the White Horse I did attempt the whole Mr Right Now thing, with catastrophic results. I don't know who I'm trying to convince here. D
- Embark on some form of exercise, form TBC.
Check! I joined my work softball team. Oh and did I mention I ran a half-marathon this year? A+
- Get up 20 minutes earlier to improve on my current beauty routine of mascara and lipgloss.
Have definitely made an effort with this although this has gone slightly downhill since meeting the White Horse; I sometimes do my make-up in the bathroom in the morning at work. Classy. B-
- Cook (sub resolution- learn how to).
Fail. Fail. Fail. I still don't cook, I still can't be bothered with cooking. Thought I had solved this problem because the White Horse cooks for me except I got a bit of a talking to today about my lack of cooking and his always cooking. Oops. Fail. F
I will not...
- Read too much into the situation with Welsh Willy (or other). Instead will enjoy fun evenings for what they are, rather than hope something more will come of it.
Ah Welsh Willy. How a lot can change in a year. Not really sure on this one as the whole Welsh Willy thing swiftly ended. Um, C?
- Keep telling myself that I'm rubbish at my job and quake inwardly whenever my boss asks me to do something.
Well I got promoted this year so I must be doing something right. A
- Leave my make-up on when I go to bed as results in IES (icky eye syndrome).
Doing much better at this. B+
- Eat toast for dinner (more than twice a week).
Thanks to the White Horse and his cooking skills I'm doing very well at this one. B
- Drunk dial or drunk text. Anyone. Drunk dialing/texting reeks of desperation. Will be cool aloof ice queen instead.
I think I did drunk text Welsh Willy. I think. Let's say C
Final GPA: Haven't got a clue, that's American and I don't know what's a good GPA and what isn't. B+??
I will...
- Visit Violet
I think I'm off to a flying start! Vi and I were reunited this year for an amazing 10day reunion complete with some McNerdy love, a roadtrip and someone thinking we were lesbians. A++
- Follow 'The Four Man Plan' (sub resolution- read 'The Four Man Plan'. It's on my nightstand).
I have yet to read 'The Four Man Plan' so obviously haven't come close to following it. And am now with the White Horse who probably wouldn't be too happy if I started following it. Before the White Horse I did attempt the whole Mr Right Now thing, with catastrophic results. I don't know who I'm trying to convince here. D
- Embark on some form of exercise, form TBC.
Check! I joined my work softball team. Oh and did I mention I ran a half-marathon this year? A+
- Get up 20 minutes earlier to improve on my current beauty routine of mascara and lipgloss.
Have definitely made an effort with this although this has gone slightly downhill since meeting the White Horse; I sometimes do my make-up in the bathroom in the morning at work. Classy. B-
- Cook (sub resolution- learn how to).
Fail. Fail. Fail. I still don't cook, I still can't be bothered with cooking. Thought I had solved this problem because the White Horse cooks for me except I got a bit of a talking to today about my lack of cooking and his always cooking. Oops. Fail. F
I will not...
- Read too much into the situation with Welsh Willy (or other). Instead will enjoy fun evenings for what they are, rather than hope something more will come of it.
Ah Welsh Willy. How a lot can change in a year. Not really sure on this one as the whole Welsh Willy thing swiftly ended. Um, C?
- Keep telling myself that I'm rubbish at my job and quake inwardly whenever my boss asks me to do something.
Well I got promoted this year so I must be doing something right. A
- Leave my make-up on when I go to bed as results in IES (icky eye syndrome).
Doing much better at this. B+
- Eat toast for dinner (more than twice a week).
Thanks to the White Horse and his cooking skills I'm doing very well at this one. B
- Drunk dial or drunk text. Anyone. Drunk dialing/texting reeks of desperation. Will be cool aloof ice queen instead.
I think I did drunk text Welsh Willy. I think. Let's say C
Final GPA: Haven't got a clue, that's American and I don't know what's a good GPA and what isn't. B+??
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
How to Find a Husband: Part IV
This is the fourth in a multi-part series on How to Find a Husband. This is for entertainment purposes only, and is a tongue-in-cheek criticism of smug marrieds as well as desperate attempts to become smug marrieds. The authors, Grayer and Violet, firmly believe that no one NEEDS a husband to make them complete, but if they want one, the best way to find one is to just be yourself.
Step 4: Be his mother.
Not to be all Freudian on you, but if there's one woman a man can love, it's his mother. It doesn't matter if she's the single most vial creature on earth. If you want a mother-in-law you have to channel that vialness.
Please note: If you're trying to marry a man that has murdered his mother (no judgement here, a husband is a husband!), please disregard this how-to guide.
1. The Scent of a Woman
Scents evoke many memories. Hopefully in his case, happy nesting-proposals-procreating-monogamy memories of his family. Find out what kind of perfume his mother wears. You don't have to find an exact replica, just match the scent "family". If she wears floral, find a floral perfume. She prefers citrusy scents, then so do you. She's a hippie? Then you dig patchouli. Whatever that is. Be careful not to choose his grandmother's scent. You have to give off "natural" pheromones of young fertility, not the elderly scent of a woman who wears a wig and still kisses him square on the lips.
2. If she's a high maintenance bitch, you're a high maintenance bitch.
If a man grew up being treated badly by the Woman in his life, he's going to expect to always be treated badly by the Woman in his life forever. This means you'll be wearing the pants in the relationship. You can even pick out his clothes, and demand that he buy you closets full of designer duds for yourself. Think of Charlotte and Trey in Sex and the City. (Charlotte used Bunny MacDougal's manipulative ways to get him down the aisle. Hmmm... that wouldn't have anything to do with his inability to rise to the occasion, would it?)
On the other hand, if his mother is Mother Theresa, you're going to have to roll up your sleeves and do some serious volunteer work. And donate all your money to needy children. Or the hardest thing of all, actually be nice to him. Hey we didn't say finding a husband was easy!
3. If she wears blue eye shadow up to her brows, so do you.
It's weird to think about, but we swear men not only like a woman who acts (i.e. controls him) like his mother but also has similar looks. If his mother is a natural low maintenance beauty, then he has a deep appreciation for fresh faced young ladies. If she spends two hours getting ready just to go to the grocery store, then you best be getting used to primping, priming, and plucking every morning, just to go to the gym. If she always wears heels, get used to not being able to feel your feet. If she has big hair, then break out the teasing comb and volumizing spray. I think you get the idea.
4. Talk the Talk.
Mama or Mum, mothers always know best. If she's southern, work on saying "y'all" and slow... down... when you speak. If she's from New England, make sure you start saying "wicked" and stop pronouncing your R's. If she's British, be sure you'd like a "spot" of tea, and scream "BLOODY HELL!" whenever you're angry. Trust us.
And there you have it. Become his mother, become his wife. It's that simple. Trust us.
Next up: Part V- Eat your way to a ring.
Step 4: Be his mother.
Not to be all Freudian on you, but if there's one woman a man can love, it's his mother. It doesn't matter if she's the single most vial creature on earth. If you want a mother-in-law you have to channel that vialness.
Please note: If you're trying to marry a man that has murdered his mother (no judgement here, a husband is a husband!), please disregard this how-to guide.
1. The Scent of a Woman
Scents evoke many memories. Hopefully in his case, happy nesting-proposals-procreating-monogamy memories of his family. Find out what kind of perfume his mother wears. You don't have to find an exact replica, just match the scent "family". If she wears floral, find a floral perfume. She prefers citrusy scents, then so do you. She's a hippie? Then you dig patchouli. Whatever that is. Be careful not to choose his grandmother's scent. You have to give off "natural" pheromones of young fertility, not the elderly scent of a woman who wears a wig and still kisses him square on the lips.
2. If she's a high maintenance bitch, you're a high maintenance bitch.
If a man grew up being treated badly by the Woman in his life, he's going to expect to always be treated badly by the Woman in his life forever. This means you'll be wearing the pants in the relationship. You can even pick out his clothes, and demand that he buy you closets full of designer duds for yourself. Think of Charlotte and Trey in Sex and the City. (Charlotte used Bunny MacDougal's manipulative ways to get him down the aisle. Hmmm... that wouldn't have anything to do with his inability to rise to the occasion, would it?)
On the other hand, if his mother is Mother Theresa, you're going to have to roll up your sleeves and do some serious volunteer work. And donate all your money to needy children. Or the hardest thing of all, actually be nice to him. Hey we didn't say finding a husband was easy!
3. If she wears blue eye shadow up to her brows, so do you.
It's weird to think about, but we swear men not only like a woman who acts (i.e. controls him) like his mother but also has similar looks. If his mother is a natural low maintenance beauty, then he has a deep appreciation for fresh faced young ladies. If she spends two hours getting ready just to go to the grocery store, then you best be getting used to primping, priming, and plucking every morning, just to go to the gym. If she always wears heels, get used to not being able to feel your feet. If she has big hair, then break out the teasing comb and volumizing spray. I think you get the idea.
4. Talk the Talk.
Mama or Mum, mothers always know best. If she's southern, work on saying "y'all" and slow... down... when you speak. If she's from New England, make sure you start saying "wicked" and stop pronouncing your R's. If she's British, be sure you'd like a "spot" of tea, and scream "BLOODY HELL!" whenever you're angry. Trust us.
And there you have it. Become his mother, become his wife. It's that simple. Trust us.
Next up: Part V- Eat your way to a ring.
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Merry, Happy
Merry Christmas friends!!
We hope that these past couple days have been filled with gawdiness (can you say, light-up inflatable lawn ornaments?), gluttony (I'm on my second food coma of the day), and glee. Violet and I are currently watching our parents play Wii. Yes, that's right, for the first time ever, the Bickerstaffs own a gaming system and it's not for us kids, its for our parents. Our day has been spent being ridiculously competitive at virtual Resorts Sports with the parentals still figuring out how to hold the controllers, and still marveling at how similar they look to their Mii.
Since we've been home, I've taken some time to go through the Christmas newsletters they've collected this year. Why people feel the need to write these from their pets perspective is a mystery. Why people feel the need to strictly write about their pets is just downright baffling. But it's not the animals that are bothersome, it's all the babies.
Mona and her husband had a baby boy on Thanksgiving day. Mary Jane is expecting her second in January. Maurice proposed to his college girlfriend this fall, the wedding is planned for this summer. Our family is growing fast, it's hard to believe! What are your girls up to? It doesn't seem like those girl scout days could have possibly been so long ago!
So this made me curious. What are we up to? Not in real life, of course, but in the annual family newsletter life. So I did a little digging on the family dinosaur computer and found our letter. It's complete with a family photo from Disneyworld (I swear the day I showed my mom how to add a picture into a word document was one of her best days ever). The fact that our parents are using a picture of them and their late-twenty-something daughters at Disneyworld should tell you something: In the world of Christmas newsletters, Violet and I don't have much going on.
We hope that these past couple days have been filled with gawdiness (can you say, light-up inflatable lawn ornaments?), gluttony (I'm on my second food coma of the day), and glee. Violet and I are currently watching our parents play Wii. Yes, that's right, for the first time ever, the Bickerstaffs own a gaming system and it's not for us kids, its for our parents. Our day has been spent being ridiculously competitive at virtual Resorts Sports with the parentals still figuring out how to hold the controllers, and still marveling at how similar they look to their Mii.
Since we've been home, I've taken some time to go through the Christmas newsletters they've collected this year. Why people feel the need to write these from their pets perspective is a mystery. Why people feel the need to strictly write about their pets is just downright baffling. But it's not the animals that are bothersome, it's all the babies.
Mona and her husband had a baby boy on Thanksgiving day. Mary Jane is expecting her second in January. Maurice proposed to his college girlfriend this fall, the wedding is planned for this summer. Our family is growing fast, it's hard to believe! What are your girls up to? It doesn't seem like those girl scout days could have possibly been so long ago!
So this made me curious. What are we up to? Not in real life, of course, but in the annual family newsletter life. So I did a little digging on the family dinosaur computer and found our letter. It's complete with a family photo from Disneyworld (I swear the day I showed my mom how to add a picture into a word document was one of her best days ever). The fact that our parents are using a picture of them and their late-twenty-something daughters at Disneyworld should tell you something: In the world of Christmas newsletters, Violet and I don't have much going on.
Violet is still in Atlanta and at the same job. She's applying for grad schools for next fall, yada boring yada. Grayer is now in Boston. She works in a lab with various bacteria and a DNA machine. Both will be home for Christmas.
And that was it. Not only did it tell us that all that matters (in the newsletter world) is what we do, but it also tells us that my parents don't know what I do (what the hell is a DNA machine??). Clearly our parents did not do as well at marrying off their daughters as their friends did. But it's Christmas, and that means all that money they should be spending on son-in-laws and grandbabies, they're just spending on us. Works for me.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
2010 Resolutions Report Card: Grayer
As resolutions go, I couldn't get much worse than I did last year. Here's my end of year report.
I will...
-Get a Job. A real grownup full-time job that will allow me to pay bills and maybe even splurge on..cable. Check! I've been working since March. I have health insurance. I pay income tax. I am officially an adult, though, oddly enough, I still don't have cable. A+
-Move somewhere Awesome to be at said job. I'm really looking forward to moving someplace new. Preferably someplace with cute boys. I moved to Boston. It's pretty sweet. So are the boys. A
- Meet people. Once in new place, I want to majorly meet people. To do this I vow to join Meetup groups and possibly even online date. I will be more social then ever before. I did meet people. I even dated online. Turns out the single friends I made turned out to be stupid smug singletons and the guy I met online turned out to be fuckwit. But I made/am making an effort so hooray for me. A for effort. D for quality work.
-Get more action. Same with Vi, this is our time, our time to LIVE. If I can remember the number of boys I make out with this year, I'll consider it a failure. So if I think about it enough I can remember the number of boys I've made out with, but all in all, it wasn't a bad year. On the very down side, I let condoms expire. Who does that?!? C, I can only be disappointed in myself.
-Lose some weight. I realize this is a resolution cliche but grad school was not kind to me. I'm going to need to shed a few. I did lose a couple pounds. Unfortunately I didn't do so until the last part of the year, but I did it. B-
I will not...
-Have an imaginary/fictitious/mythical/pseudo relationship of any kind. I mean it this time. I'm very proud to say that once I ended my relationship with Conrad (the move helped), I haven't had any sorts of mythical relationships since. Boo yeah. B+ because it took me too long to just be friends with Conrad.
-Worry about guy/relationship but rather "go with the flow." If it's meant to be, it will be, no sense in worrying about it. I'd say I was awesome at this this year. I was way more laid back about guys, and was much better at going with the flow, even when the flow didn't go my way. A++
Cumulative GPA: 3.2 Winner of Most Improved.
I will...
-Get a Job. A real grownup full-time job that will allow me to pay bills and maybe even splurge on..cable. Check! I've been working since March. I have health insurance. I pay income tax. I am officially an adult, though, oddly enough, I still don't have cable. A+
-Move somewhere Awesome to be at said job. I'm really looking forward to moving someplace new. Preferably someplace with cute boys. I moved to Boston. It's pretty sweet. So are the boys. A
- Meet people. Once in new place, I want to majorly meet people. To do this I vow to join Meetup groups and possibly even online date. I will be more social then ever before. I did meet people. I even dated online. Turns out the single friends I made turned out to be stupid smug singletons and the guy I met online turned out to be fuckwit. But I made/am making an effort so hooray for me. A for effort. D for quality work.
-Get more action. Same with Vi, this is our time, our time to LIVE. If I can remember the number of boys I make out with this year, I'll consider it a failure. So if I think about it enough I can remember the number of boys I've made out with, but all in all, it wasn't a bad year. On the very down side, I let condoms expire. Who does that?!? C, I can only be disappointed in myself.
-Lose some weight. I realize this is a resolution cliche but grad school was not kind to me. I'm going to need to shed a few. I did lose a couple pounds. Unfortunately I didn't do so until the last part of the year, but I did it. B-
I will not...
-Have an imaginary/fictitious/mythical/pseudo relationship of any kind. I mean it this time. I'm very proud to say that once I ended my relationship with Conrad (the move helped), I haven't had any sorts of mythical relationships since. Boo yeah. B+ because it took me too long to just be friends with Conrad.
-Worry about guy/relationship but rather "go with the flow." If it's meant to be, it will be, no sense in worrying about it. I'd say I was awesome at this this year. I was way more laid back about guys, and was much better at going with the flow, even when the flow didn't go my way. A++
Cumulative GPA: 3.2 Winner of Most Improved.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
2010 Resolutions Report Card: Violet
It's time to look back at the resolutions we made and check up on the year's progress. I made really great progress in 2009, so I didn't make that many resolutions for 2010.
I will...
-Get more action. 2009 was a good action year for me, but it only let me wanting more. I'm still in my twenties. The time to have fun is NOW.
Thanks to the cute neighbor, this resolution was no problem. We have proven that you can have quantity AND quality. boo. yah. A++
-Continue to work on employment, so that I may actually have a disposable income.
Hmmm.... Well, I did have a second part-time job for the first half of the year. After that, my attempts to find an actual full-time job went nowhere, and I am basically right back where I started. Effort: A; Economy: D+; Average: C
I will not...
-Worry about the relationship. Instead of worrying about getting over the "three-month hump" or finding Mr. Right, I'm going to focus on Mr. Right Now. I hear that's more fun anyway.
In my attempt to find Mr. Right Now, I found a perfectly viable option for Mr. Right was right in front of me. I didn't worry about the three-month hump, and we've cleared that and then some, and have had some serious fun in the meantime. A
-Crochet anything for a man. Ever. And you all scoffed at my "silly little curse." Ha.
Haven't even picked up a crochet hook, for any purpose all year. The Hat of Doom was the last thing I made. The cute neighbor will not be getting any hats, scarves, or sweaters with his first initial crocheted into it from me any time soon. Or at all. A+
Final GPA: 3.8. Stupid economy.
I will...
-Get more action. 2009 was a good action year for me, but it only let me wanting more. I'm still in my twenties. The time to have fun is NOW.
Thanks to the cute neighbor, this resolution was no problem. We have proven that you can have quantity AND quality. boo. yah. A++
-Continue to work on employment, so that I may actually have a disposable income.
Hmmm.... Well, I did have a second part-time job for the first half of the year. After that, my attempts to find an actual full-time job went nowhere, and I am basically right back where I started. Effort: A; Economy: D+; Average: C
I will not...
-Worry about the relationship. Instead of worrying about getting over the "three-month hump" or finding Mr. Right, I'm going to focus on Mr. Right Now. I hear that's more fun anyway.
In my attempt to find Mr. Right Now, I found a perfectly viable option for Mr. Right was right in front of me. I didn't worry about the three-month hump, and we've cleared that and then some, and have had some serious fun in the meantime. A
-Crochet anything for a man. Ever. And you all scoffed at my "silly little curse." Ha.
Haven't even picked up a crochet hook, for any purpose all year. The Hat of Doom was the last thing I made. The cute neighbor will not be getting any hats, scarves, or sweaters with his first initial crocheted into it from me any time soon. Or at all. A+
Final GPA: 3.8. Stupid economy.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Holiday Greetings! from the WWBD? family!
Dear Friends and Family,
Wow! Is it that time of year already? It seems like only yesterday we were writing last year's Christmas Newsletter, but 2010 sure has flown by! What a year it's been for the busy WWBD? family! The ladies have all stepped up their husband hunting now that Prince William is officially off the market!
The year got off to a great start with Grayer moving to Boston for her first, real, grown-up job! She lives in the city with me (Mr. Kitty Meowington) and a few lovely roommates. Over the summer, she went on a fabulous vacation to Costa Rica with her favorite sister, Violet. They had such a wonderful trip! They went zip-lining, relaxed on the beach, and saw volcanoes, and lizards, and monkeys, oh my! There were times when her love life got a little messy, but it was never anything Grayer couldn't handle on her own!
Fenella is living in London, and what a year she's had! Of course the highlight to her year was traveling back to the United States to see her bestest friend in the whole wide world, and her Person, Violet. They had such a wonderful 10 days together! They laughed, they salsa danced, they rode roller coasters, they even pushed each other into bathrooms. Fenella even got to know some of Violet's friends really, really well. Fen is also preparing to be a bridesmaid next year, but her We were all pleased as punch a few months later when our little Fen-Fen announced that she's found herself a Significant Other!
Violet is still living in Atlanta. Despite her spectacular talents and qualifications, she is still incredibly underemployed, so she decided to give nannying a try to make some extra cash. It did not end well. Violet's professional life may be non-existant, but she has managed to get herself a love life this year! It got off to a weird start for sure, but things started to change when her very cute neighbor became more than just a neighbor.
As for me, Mr. Kitty Meowington, I've had a very busy year of waking Grayer up at 4am and chasing my tail. I really think 2011 is the year I'll finally catch it!
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!
Love,
Grayer, Fenella, and Violet
(and Mr. Kitty Meowington)
Wow! Is it that time of year already? It seems like only yesterday we were writing last year's Christmas Newsletter, but 2010 sure has flown by! What a year it's been for the busy WWBD? family! The ladies have all stepped up their husband hunting now that Prince William is officially off the market!
The year got off to a great start with Grayer moving to Boston for her first, real, grown-up job! She lives in the city with me (Mr. Kitty Meowington) and a few lovely roommates. Over the summer, she went on a fabulous vacation to Costa Rica with her favorite sister, Violet. They had such a wonderful trip! They went zip-lining, relaxed on the beach, and saw volcanoes, and lizards, and monkeys, oh my! There were times when her love life got a little messy, but it was never anything Grayer couldn't handle on her own!
Fenella is living in London, and what a year she's had! Of course the highlight to her year was traveling back to the United States to see her bestest friend in the whole wide world, and her Person, Violet. They had such a wonderful 10 days together! They laughed, they salsa danced, they rode roller coasters, they even pushed each other into bathrooms. Fenella even got to know some of Violet's friends really, really well. Fen is also preparing to be a bridesmaid next year, but her We were all pleased as punch a few months later when our little Fen-Fen announced that she's found herself a Significant Other!
Violet is still living in Atlanta. Despite her spectacular talents and qualifications, she is still incredibly underemployed, so she decided to give nannying a try to make some extra cash. It did not end well. Violet's professional life may be non-existant, but she has managed to get herself a love life this year! It got off to a weird start for sure, but things started to change when her very cute neighbor became more than just a neighbor.
As for me, Mr. Kitty Meowington, I've had a very busy year of waking Grayer up at 4am and chasing my tail. I really think 2011 is the year I'll finally catch it!
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!
Love,
Grayer, Fenella, and Violet
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Plus No-one AGAIN
Last year, I wrote about my lack of a Plus One. This year, however, I have an ACTUAL boyfriend and all, so everything should be hunky dory, right? Wrong. My ACTUAL boyfriend is out of town. So I will yet again be attending my office Christmas party solo. I mean seriously, what is the point of having an actual boyfriend if he's going to be out of town for the two weeks leading up to Christmas, leaving me Plus One-less yet again? Grrr.
This year's office Christmas party invite was particularly obnoxious about the whole thing also. There was a sign-up sheet with a column for your name if you'll be attending, and next to it a column that said, "Spouse (yes or no)." Why only a "spouse"? Why not "significant other"? Or better yet, "guest"? I was feeling particularly cheeky and smart ass, so under the spouse column, I wrote "No thanks."
Don't worry, I won't be giving a drunken solo at the party. Actually, if the party were going to include drunken karaoke, I might actually be looking forward to it, but I'm pretty sure it's going to be super-lame, and have been trying to come up with an excuse not to go for weeks now. Unfortunately, it's important to stay on the boss's good side, and this is a good way to do that. I can, however, look forward to New Year's Eve, when I will actually have a date for the first time in... well, let's not think about that.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
How to Find a Husband: Part III
This is the third in a multi-part series on How to Find a Husband. This is for entertainment purposes only, and is a tongue-in-cheek criticism of smug marrieds as well as desperate attempts to become smug marrieds. The authors, Grayer and Violet, firmly believe that no one NEEDS a husband to make them complete, but if they want one, the best way to find one is to just be yourself.
Step 3: Play Dumb
"So dumb guys go for dumb girls and smart guys go for dumb girls? So what do the smart girls get?"
"Cats, mostly"--Modern Family
In a completely made up statistic, we have found that the chances of a woman marrying drops 23% with each degree obtained. Want to know why? It makes you seem smart, but even worse, it reduces your dating pool by requiring a man of equal or greater degree value. As if the pickings weren't slim enough! That's right, delete that grad school application, stop studying for those GREs but don't you dare drop out of college. College is where you'll find the most important credential of all.
Obtaining your MRS degree (Bachelor's)
Since colleges these days insist on one having an actual major, here are a few things to think about before declaring:
Acceptable Majors:
Hospitality/Culinary Studies: Think of it as training for your future as a doting wife. Men certainly will as you take away that perfectly folded fan napkin and replace it with a prime rib.
English: It appears men do not mind if their wives can read so this is acceptable. Sure, you'll be able to quote Shakespeare at a dinner party, but please don't read anything more advanced than Stephenie Meyer in front of him.
Geography: What kind of job can you get with a geography major? Who cares!? You'll be able to plan international vacations like a pro (it helps when you actually know where countries are!). Just remember, if he doesn't know what the capital of France is, neither do you *wink*.
Sports Management: No one really knows what this major entails but it's full of student-athletes, is therefore easy, and if given the opportunity, you should always marry an athlete (it means your babies won't be fat, or if they are fat, they can at least play football).
Non-acceptable Majors
Women's Studies: No men will be in your classes, except for the few that are dumb enough to think that "the study of women" will involve nudity and/or get them laid. The men not in your classes will assume you are a lesbian.
Life Sciences: You may think going into a field historically full of men will put odds in your favor but you'd be wrong. Women are making a run for it (until they get married/knocked up anyways) and the male scientists don't really count as men due to their pasty white skin and man boobs, but hey, a husband is a husband. In any case, majoring in any form of science will make you appear to be intelligent and that's the opposite goal of college. Just take it from Grayer, the single scientist/cat owner.
Obtaining your Masters degree
There is only one reason for continuing on with education (don't you dare say to further your career!) and that's to find a husband. Women who go on to get a masters are doing so because A. They spent too much time studying to focus on men or B. Because their long-term boyfriend decided he didn't want to get married and broke up with them halfway through their senior year. Either way, a girl getting her masters is getting her second chance at love. (What she should really be doing is getting a second bachelor's degree, or an associates degree (either of which only drops her chances by 16%) but we'll just roll our eyes and move on).
There's still hope for a masters. Attending grad school straight out of college will allow you to still be around undergrads without seeming like a washed-out creeper. You still have potential to meet Mr. Good Enough To Marry at the library, at a frat party, or as a student in the class that you're TAing. Continuing on with education also gives you a great excuse for not having a job/not knowing what you want to do with your life. As soon as you do meet him, drop out immediately. Grad school is not worth the torture/humiliation/self-loathing if you already have a man. And if you don't meet a man and accidentally graduate? Yeah, you're pretty much screwed. Just ask Grayer, the perpetually single Master of Science, who just recently completed a crocheted cat sweater.
Obtaining your PhD
At this point we just don't know what you're thinking. You "career girls" have got a mind of your own. Don't you realize that now you have to find a PhD candidate to marry you?! As if those are just all over the place! If you do find one, he probably won't marry you until you have both graduated. Don't you realize how long it takes to get a PhD?! You might not get married until you're...(Gasp!)..30 or something!
There is only one reason for continuing on with education (don't you dare say to further your career!) and that's to find a husband. Women who go on to get a masters are doing so because A. They spent too much time studying to focus on men or B. Because their long-term boyfriend decided he didn't want to get married and broke up with them halfway through their senior year. Either way, a girl getting her masters is getting her second chance at love. (What she should really be doing is getting a second bachelor's degree, or an associates degree (either of which only drops her chances by 16%) but we'll just roll our eyes and move on).
There's still hope for a masters. Attending grad school straight out of college will allow you to still be around undergrads without seeming like a washed-out creeper. You still have potential to meet Mr. Good Enough To Marry at the library, at a frat party, or as a student in the class that you're TAing. Continuing on with education also gives you a great excuse for not having a job/not knowing what you want to do with your life. As soon as you do meet him, drop out immediately. Grad school is not worth the torture/humiliation/self-loathing if you already have a man. And if you don't meet a man and accidentally graduate? Yeah, you're pretty much screwed. Just ask Grayer, the perpetually single Master of Science, who just recently completed a crocheted cat sweater.
Obtaining your PhD
At this point we just don't know what you're thinking. You "career girls" have got a mind of your own. Don't you realize that now you have to find a PhD candidate to marry you?! As if those are just all over the place! If you do find one, he probably won't marry you until you have both graduated. Don't you realize how long it takes to get a PhD?! You might not get married until you're...(Gasp!)..30 or something!
Other ways to Play Dumb
- Members of the Grammar Police are Single
Never EVER correct a man’s grammar. As much as it may hurt to let that “good” instead of “well” slide, or “who” when it should be “whom,” grammar police are just not sexy. Imagine this: you are in the midst of a rather passionate moment, and he asks you, “Who do you love?” And you reply, “Actually, it’s Whom do you love?” Yeah, you’ll soon have a dangling participle on your hands. How quickly can you use coitus interruptus in a sentence? However, feel free to take out the red pen after you have that ring.
- Politics
Always, always, always agree with his politics, even if he is a granola eating liberal and you are a gun-toting member of the NRA (or vice versa). This is the purpose of the secret ballot. So that you can vote for the candidate of your choice, no matter what you tell your boyfriend. Beware, this won’t make life easy after you’re finally married, but it will get you down the aisle (and that is the ultimate happiness, right?)
- Go Blonde- literally AND figuratively
Think Jessica Simpson on Newlyweds. Remember when she was confused about Chicken of the Sea tuna? Or when she thought she was actually eating buffalo when she had Buffalo wings? Yes, we know she and Nick Lachey went splitsville years ago, but she was MARRIED, wasn't she? Not only that, but she's about to be married again! And what's better than being married once? Being married twice, obviously. So visit your local salon or the hair care aisle of your favorite drug store, reach for the platinum, and let that color kill away those brain cells.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Let's be rational
So now that I'm no longer in a (slightly) drunken rage, it would be a good time to re-evaluate the Fuckwittage of Jonny Damon. It's been a week, and fear not friends, I'm ok. Sure I still think about it, and yeah I still get kinda bummed at times, and no, I haven't really eaten much at all this week, and yeah I have gotten drunk a few times, but I am OK. For real. I've already made some crucial steps that tell me I may not be over it, but I am over him (or at least I'm well on my way).
- Unfriended on Facebook. After I deleted his fuckwitting Facebook message, I unfriended him. Not because I hate him, but I don't want him showing up on my newsfeed every other day. I particularly don't want to see that he's "In a relationship" next week and although that would seem fast, if there's something we've learned from fuckwitts it's to never underestimate their inherent fuckwitting ability (yes, you can quote me on that).
- Figured out what actually happened. In his final message he made a lot of "I" statements ('I just can't do this right now') but what he was really saying was "I'm just not that into you". It had nothing to do with timing or whatever the hell else he blamed it on. He's just not that into me, plain and simple. And the thing is, that's ok. I know I'm not the average girl, I'm not everyone's cup of tea, I get it and I'm ok with it.
- Having the fantasy. No, not that he'll suddenly change his mind and declare his love. The other fantasy that every girl has. Running into the man that wronged her several months later. I, of course, will look glamorous, skinnier, prettier, and happier than ever, with a taller, darker, handsomer (not to mention better endowed and fuller hair) man by my side. He will look like he lost a little weight (due to the perpetual diarrhea I cursed him with) but his hairline will have receded and there's sadness in his eyes as we have a polite conversation in which he regrets ever saying goodbye. (In reality, in the slim chance I ever would run into him I would, of course, be wearing sweats, with crazy unwashed hair, eating a doughnut all alone. Life never happens the way I want it to).
- Giving the silent treatment. I've been drunk a few times this week (for good reasons, I swear) and I haven't drunk texted/called him once! Hoorah! I did hear from him the other day, "Hey Grayer, I know you probably don't want to hear from me but can I have your address, so I can send you your movie." Well yeah, you better send me my movie and shut the hell up, I'll decide if I want to hear from you or not. Ass. I told him to stop being so dramatic (and also stop assuming I'm sulking/hating). As for that dvd, I'll believe it when I see it.
- The realization. I've realized why I'm disappointed. It's not him. He's just made me realize in this whole crazy ordeal that I might actually want an actual boyfriend. There I said it. I didn't get on OkCupid to find a boyfriend, I got on OkCupid to date (and to save this blog). But maybe I don't want to just date, maybe I just don't want to be alone anymore. That's a big revelation. Although I would have gladly called that kid my boyfriend (he's still really, really cute) I'm glad it didn't come to that, it could have taken me months to figure out that he was a fuckwit. And he is, by all means, a fuckwit.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
The return of Fuckwittage
(Disclaimer: Not going to lie, I basically drank a bottle of wine as my dinner tonight, for good reason. However, if the dropping of F-bombs as if it were World War III, offends you, you needn't read this post).
Mother. Fucker.
It's my word of the day. Go on, say it aloud. It will make you feel better. It's really the only thing you can say when dealing with first class fuckwittage. I had a Facebook message from Jonny Damon this morning. He never sends me messages. Mother. Fucker. Jonny Damon was breaking up with me via a Fucking Facebook message. Mother. Fucker.
We'd only been dating for a month and a half, maybe it wasn't that bad of a protocol to end it that way. But wait, let me explain. An hour after I left his house, he sent me a fucking facebook message to end things with me. Two hours after he made me breakfast and kissed me goodbye, he sent me a fucking facebook message to end things with me. Three hours after we woke up and laid in bed talking, 12 hours after we had sex, 14 hours after we snuggled on the couch watching a Christmas movie, he fucking sent me a fucking facebook message to end things with me. What. the. fuck.
You know the great thing about being dumped via Fucking Facebook? You get to reread the message several times, have all those feelings over again, and then copy and paste into a blog meant to bash the fuckwit. The subject line is "Hi" because really, what else could it be?
See? Isn't he an asshole? Ok, maybe he doesn't exactly sound like an asshole out of context but please remember that I had just been with him an hour earlier, and he said nothing. Everything was fine and fucking dandy. So that's why the first and foremost feeling I was having was fucking rage. And really just wanted to send this back.
Grayer
No, I didn't send this. I just sat staring. Tried to do work, just kept staring. I eventually texted him. It was cool, it was casual, it was "Seriously? You couldn't have told me that this morning?" Ok, it may have also eluded to his lack of balls. We had a brief conversation in which he apologized profusely, said he was awful at confrontation, felt bad for me driving to his place, yada fucking yada. After I stopped being so pissed about it (ok, I'm still kind of/really pissed about it), I just kind of had to laugh. Who the fuck gets dumped via a fucking facebook message. The subject was 'Hi' for fuck's sake. I was just starting my day at work and I get dumped. Via Fucking Facebook. At least he didn't post it on my wall...
Once I chilled out a bit I sent him a final message: "I don't disagree with what you said. I disagree with how you said it. Don't be that guy. You could have told me." I was very proud of myself for being so eloquent. I didn't ask him why, I didn't try to change his mind. He did the right thing, I just didn't like the way he did it. When it comes down to it, once I stopped being so pissed, I'm really just sad. I liked him. I liked him a lot, and clearly he did not feel the same way. And that sucks. He sucks. Dating fucking sucks. Mother. Fucker.
Mother. Fucker.
It's my word of the day. Go on, say it aloud. It will make you feel better. It's really the only thing you can say when dealing with first class fuckwittage. I had a Facebook message from Jonny Damon this morning. He never sends me messages. Mother. Fucker. Jonny Damon was breaking up with me via a Fucking Facebook message. Mother. Fucker.
We'd only been dating for a month and a half, maybe it wasn't that bad of a protocol to end it that way. But wait, let me explain. An hour after I left his house, he sent me a fucking facebook message to end things with me. Two hours after he made me breakfast and kissed me goodbye, he sent me a fucking facebook message to end things with me. Three hours after we woke up and laid in bed talking, 12 hours after we had sex, 14 hours after we snuggled on the couch watching a Christmas movie, he fucking sent me a fucking facebook message to end things with me. What. the. fuck.
You know the great thing about being dumped via Fucking Facebook? You get to reread the message several times, have all those feelings over again, and then copy and paste into a blog meant to bash the fuckwit. The subject line is "Hi" because really, what else could it be?
Grayer,
I know this is not the best way to handle this situation, but I've had a lot of fun with you and think you are an amazing person, but I don't want to hurt you if things get more serious; which I feel is starting to happen. I just don't think that it is the best thing for me right now. I hate having to do this, but I've been in situations where I would have rather somebody told me earlier than to keep something going that wasn't meant to be. No matter what I write I know you will hate this and probably hate me, and I am sorry, but I just don't think I can do this right now. I'll miss you Grayer and I hope you have a great Christmas with your family.
Jonny Damon
Jonny Damon
See? Isn't he an asshole? Ok, maybe he doesn't exactly sound like an asshole out of context but please remember that I had just been with him an hour earlier, and he said nothing. Everything was fine and fucking dandy. So that's why the first and foremost feeling I was having was fucking rage. And really just wanted to send this back.
Subject: Hi? Asshole.
Jonny Damon,
Fuck you. You MotherFucker. Why couldn't you grow a pair and tell this to my face? I was just with you. Think of all the moments that you could have brought this up. You had no problem being around me. You had no problem sleeping with me. You're a dick. You're starting to feel like this is getting serious? I see you once a week! You're the one that invited me to a fucking wedding and introduced me to friends! And don't say you just can't do this right now, because you knew exactly what you were doing. And, you had to do this on the one time that I ever left something at your house. I want my fucking dvd back. If your plan was to make me so mad that I wouldn't be sad, congratulations, you did it. May you be cursed with bad karma and perpetual diarrhea.
No, I didn't send this. I just sat staring. Tried to do work, just kept staring. I eventually texted him. It was cool, it was casual, it was "Seriously? You couldn't have told me that this morning?" Ok, it may have also eluded to his lack of balls. We had a brief conversation in which he apologized profusely, said he was awful at confrontation, felt bad for me driving to his place, yada fucking yada. After I stopped being so pissed about it (ok, I'm still kind of/really pissed about it), I just kind of had to laugh. Who the fuck gets dumped via a fucking facebook message. The subject was 'Hi' for fuck's sake. I was just starting my day at work and I get dumped. Via Fucking Facebook. At least he didn't post it on my wall...
Once I chilled out a bit I sent him a final message: "I don't disagree with what you said. I disagree with how you said it. Don't be that guy. You could have told me." I was very proud of myself for being so eloquent. I didn't ask him why, I didn't try to change his mind. He did the right thing, I just didn't like the way he did it. When it comes down to it, once I stopped being so pissed, I'm really just sad. I liked him. I liked him a lot, and clearly he did not feel the same way. And that sucks. He sucks. Dating fucking sucks. Mother. Fucker.
Monday, December 6, 2010
And the Excellent Boyfriend Award goes to....
If I were a different kind of girl, my facebook status would read something like this:
Violet J. Bickerstaff is so lucky to have such a wonderful boyfriend to take care of her when she's sick. Thanks baby!
Luckily, I'm not that kind of girl. Instead, I'll just go to my blog so to properly detail how awesome my boyfriend was to me when I caught the Peruvian Death Flu over the weekend.
There were no signs that I would spend the weekend on the couch/in front of the toilet puking my guts out. I felt fine when I went out Friday night to meet the cute neighbor and his co-workers for Happy Hour that evening. I was looking forward to an evening out, followed by Friday Night Action, and was quite enjoying myself during my first beer. But before I ordered a second, I decided to wait a few minutes. Something wasn't quite right. A mere 2 hours after I arrived, I felt like I might die. My throat hurt, and I had that awful, achy feeling all over that is never a good sign. As much as I hated to be the first lame-o to leave, I knew I needed to go home, put on my flannel pajama pants, and curl up on the couch with some soup.
I told the cute neighbor (who was probably on his 4th or 5th beer and definitely did not want to go home yet) that I felt like death and needed to go home. He offered to go to the grocery store for me and pick up some chicken noodle soup and crackers. I took him up on the offer. After I got home, had changed clothes, and was huddling under blankets on the couch, I got much, much worse. The kind of sick that makes you cry because you feel so awful and just hurt all over. Not good. It was after the cute neighbor arrived and was making me soup that the vomiting began. And after I had maybe 4 bites of soup, it continued. (Oh, how I wish he'd never heard me throw up, but sadly, this isn't the first time. Note to all: Never let your drunk-on-her-ass roommate make your first beverage of the evening. It will be 75% vodka.) I basically begged him not to leave me alone for the night, and as unappealing as spending the night sharing a bed with a sickie must have sounded, he obliged.
In the morning he went to the store again for more soup, since I was starving, but didn't think I could handle anything more than that. He left me to my Harry Potter marathon on tv while he went home to get some work done, but checked up on me throughout the day to see if I needed anything. Later in the evening went back to the store AGAIN to get me smoothie-making supplies and spent his Saturday night on the couch with me watching tv. Then he stayed with me again. By Sunday morning, I was starting to feel like a real person again. I told him he was an excellent boyfriend and promised that if he ever gets sick (which I've never seen, just pesky allergies) I will be sure to take good care of him as well and even asked him if he wanted to make out with me, which he politely declined. (I've been careful not to kiss him, even though he's shared air space. Best not to risk it.)
Now that we have found another benefit to having an actual boyfriend, we can get back to our regularly-scheduled man-bashing. Grayer, I believe you have something to say on this issue?
Violet J. Bickerstaff is so lucky to have such a wonderful boyfriend to take care of her when she's sick. Thanks baby!
Luckily, I'm not that kind of girl. Instead, I'll just go to my blog so to properly detail how awesome my boyfriend was to me when I caught the Peruvian Death Flu over the weekend.
There were no signs that I would spend the weekend on the couch/in front of the toilet puking my guts out. I felt fine when I went out Friday night to meet the cute neighbor and his co-workers for Happy Hour that evening. I was looking forward to an evening out, followed by Friday Night Action, and was quite enjoying myself during my first beer. But before I ordered a second, I decided to wait a few minutes. Something wasn't quite right. A mere 2 hours after I arrived, I felt like I might die. My throat hurt, and I had that awful, achy feeling all over that is never a good sign. As much as I hated to be the first lame-o to leave, I knew I needed to go home, put on my flannel pajama pants, and curl up on the couch with some soup.
I told the cute neighbor (who was probably on his 4th or 5th beer and definitely did not want to go home yet) that I felt like death and needed to go home. He offered to go to the grocery store for me and pick up some chicken noodle soup and crackers. I took him up on the offer. After I got home, had changed clothes, and was huddling under blankets on the couch, I got much, much worse. The kind of sick that makes you cry because you feel so awful and just hurt all over. Not good. It was after the cute neighbor arrived and was making me soup that the vomiting began. And after I had maybe 4 bites of soup, it continued. (Oh, how I wish he'd never heard me throw up, but sadly, this isn't the first time. Note to all: Never let your drunk-on-her-ass roommate make your first beverage of the evening. It will be 75% vodka.) I basically begged him not to leave me alone for the night, and as unappealing as spending the night sharing a bed with a sickie must have sounded, he obliged.
In the morning he went to the store again for more soup, since I was starving, but didn't think I could handle anything more than that. He left me to my Harry Potter marathon on tv while he went home to get some work done, but checked up on me throughout the day to see if I needed anything. Later in the evening went back to the store AGAIN to get me smoothie-making supplies and spent his Saturday night on the couch with me watching tv. Then he stayed with me again. By Sunday morning, I was starting to feel like a real person again. I told him he was an excellent boyfriend and promised that if he ever gets sick (which I've never seen, just pesky allergies) I will be sure to take good care of him as well and even asked him if he wanted to make out with me, which he politely declined. (I've been careful not to kiss him, even though he's shared air space. Best not to risk it.)
Now that we have found another benefit to having an actual boyfriend, we can get back to our regularly-scheduled man-bashing. Grayer, I believe you have something to say on this issue?
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Facebook...again
There have been many conversations on this blog about the perils and pitfalls of Facebook. I have a few more to add to the list:
Being Facebook friends with people you work with
Some people have a real issue about this. They believe their work life and their personal life should be kept entirely separate and as part of this they refuse to be Facebook friends with work friends. Which is fair enough. I personally take a slightly more relaxed stance and am Facebook friends with some work friends. I do draw the line in some cases but I figure that many of the people that I work with are really good friend of mine, and as my Facebook page doesn't contain anything highly embarrassing and I'm not going to post a status update bitching about work which will result in getting fired, it's ok to be Facebook friends with work friends.
Or so I thought. A woman I work with (who is lovely, just a little intense) added me. I was torn. On the one hand I didn't really want to add her. On the other I knew for a fact that if I didn't add her she would come up to my desk and ask why I hadn't added her. So then I thought that I could add her but restrict what she could see. But then I realised that she would again come up to my desk and ask why she could only see my limited profile. So I gave in and accepted her friend request.
Big mistake. She comments on quite a few of my status updates. Pointlessly. She's a bit like a Facebook stalker who I have to see Monday - Friday. It got worse a couple weeks ago when she came up to my desk and said: "Ben Jones". I was confused for 10 seconds until I realised that she was talking about my friend from uni Ben Jones. My friend that she can only know about because of my Facebook page. She saw that he had commented on my page and came to my desk to tell me that she thought he was good looking. Weird. Then last week she told her manager about my update about the royal wedding:
"Fenella Middleton-Brown only cares about the royal wedding if we get a day off."
She told her manager. They had a conversation about my status update. I could hear this conversation. Seriously? This woman has crossed the line. I can't dump her though. She'll ask me why. Still, on the plus side, we do get a day off for the royal wedding.
Being Facebook friends with your parents' friends
I didn't mean for this to happen. Really I didn't. It was accidental. I swear. When I was in Peru I uploaded all my photos to Facebook and sent the link to my parents. This way they could see the photos even though they weren't on Facebook. Except for some reason the link that I sent meant that if people who weren't on Facebook decided to join Facebook through my link - they were automatically my friend. Which is how I became Facebook friends with my mother. And a few of my parents' friends. OK - I may have accepted some of their friend requests as well. And my godmother who I haven't seen since I was three. Then I felt bad if I dumped then. And most of them are fine and cause no trouble. But again, there's a couple that comment way too much and need to leave me alone. One of them wished me happy birthday and called me my family nickname that is only a family nickname. For no one else. I was furious.
I really should dump them all. But then my parents might be mad.
Adding your boyfriend on Facebook
I mentioned that the White Horse and I aren't Facebook friends - well now we are. It was a couple weeks ago and we were joking that our relationship wasn't official unless we were Facebook friends. I then pretended it was a big deal to accept his friend request, it was all very amusing. We also had The Conversation where we agreed that the whole:
"Fenella Middleton-Brown is in a relationship with The White Horse"
is unnecessary and silly. So we became Facebook friends. Which resulted in:
1.) Me suddenly realising that he may have a look at my photos and one of the first ones he would see is the one that Vi mentioned - the one of me and my ex-boyfriend looking very cozy 4 years ago that someone decided to tag. I hastily de-tagged myself. It sounds ridiculous but that wasn't the first photo of me I wanted him to see. I started thinking if there were any other photos I didn't want him to see. I then told myself I was being ridiculous.
2.) I kid you not, about 10 minutes after I accepted his requested by friend text me: "so you're finally Facebook friends!" Freaky.
3.) My mother has been stalking my boyfriend on Facebook. She insists it's not stalking as he hasn't made his photos private. I insist that it's stalking if you're not friends with each on Facebook.
I may regret this decision.
Facebook is a minefield.
Being Facebook friends with people you work with
Some people have a real issue about this. They believe their work life and their personal life should be kept entirely separate and as part of this they refuse to be Facebook friends with work friends. Which is fair enough. I personally take a slightly more relaxed stance and am Facebook friends with some work friends. I do draw the line in some cases but I figure that many of the people that I work with are really good friend of mine, and as my Facebook page doesn't contain anything highly embarrassing and I'm not going to post a status update bitching about work which will result in getting fired, it's ok to be Facebook friends with work friends.
Or so I thought. A woman I work with (who is lovely, just a little intense) added me. I was torn. On the one hand I didn't really want to add her. On the other I knew for a fact that if I didn't add her she would come up to my desk and ask why I hadn't added her. So then I thought that I could add her but restrict what she could see. But then I realised that she would again come up to my desk and ask why she could only see my limited profile. So I gave in and accepted her friend request.
Big mistake. She comments on quite a few of my status updates. Pointlessly. She's a bit like a Facebook stalker who I have to see Monday - Friday. It got worse a couple weeks ago when she came up to my desk and said: "Ben Jones". I was confused for 10 seconds until I realised that she was talking about my friend from uni Ben Jones. My friend that she can only know about because of my Facebook page. She saw that he had commented on my page and came to my desk to tell me that she thought he was good looking. Weird. Then last week she told her manager about my update about the royal wedding:
"Fenella Middleton-Brown only cares about the royal wedding if we get a day off."
She told her manager. They had a conversation about my status update. I could hear this conversation. Seriously? This woman has crossed the line. I can't dump her though. She'll ask me why. Still, on the plus side, we do get a day off for the royal wedding.
Being Facebook friends with your parents' friends
I didn't mean for this to happen. Really I didn't. It was accidental. I swear. When I was in Peru I uploaded all my photos to Facebook and sent the link to my parents. This way they could see the photos even though they weren't on Facebook. Except for some reason the link that I sent meant that if people who weren't on Facebook decided to join Facebook through my link - they were automatically my friend. Which is how I became Facebook friends with my mother. And a few of my parents' friends. OK - I may have accepted some of their friend requests as well. And my godmother who I haven't seen since I was three. Then I felt bad if I dumped then. And most of them are fine and cause no trouble. But again, there's a couple that comment way too much and need to leave me alone. One of them wished me happy birthday and called me my family nickname that is only a family nickname. For no one else. I was furious.
I really should dump them all. But then my parents might be mad.
Adding your boyfriend on Facebook
I mentioned that the White Horse and I aren't Facebook friends - well now we are. It was a couple weeks ago and we were joking that our relationship wasn't official unless we were Facebook friends. I then pretended it was a big deal to accept his friend request, it was all very amusing. We also had The Conversation where we agreed that the whole:
"Fenella Middleton-Brown is in a relationship with The White Horse"
is unnecessary and silly. So we became Facebook friends. Which resulted in:
1.) Me suddenly realising that he may have a look at my photos and one of the first ones he would see is the one that Vi mentioned - the one of me and my ex-boyfriend looking very cozy 4 years ago that someone decided to tag. I hastily de-tagged myself. It sounds ridiculous but that wasn't the first photo of me I wanted him to see. I started thinking if there were any other photos I didn't want him to see. I then told myself I was being ridiculous.
2.) I kid you not, about 10 minutes after I accepted his requested by friend text me: "so you're finally Facebook friends!" Freaky.
3.) My mother has been stalking my boyfriend on Facebook. She insists it's not stalking as he hasn't made his photos private. I insist that it's stalking if you're not friends with each on Facebook.
I may regret this decision.
Facebook is a minefield.
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