Wednesday, September 17, 2014

Hashtag Clueless.

Everyone has those moments in life when a shift is felt so profoundly beneath their feet that it becomes clear in an instant that life as you know it will never quite be the same. For some, it could be getting married or the birth of their first child. For others, it might be moving to a new city or starting down an exciting, yet scary, career path. But for me, it was not knowing how Instagram works.

Like I said, everyone’s moments are different.

I started to realize that I’d gone ‘round the bend of hipness, coolness, or whatever new word kids these days have invented for being “in the know,” when my 13 year old cousin asked me last week what my Instagram name was.

Me: “Um…maybe Becky?”
Cousin: “It’s probably not just your name. You know, it’s the way people would find you on Instagram.”
Me: “I gotta’ be honest. I’m pretty sure I have an Instagram account, but I have no idea what my login or password is.”
Cousin: “Wait, but you post on Instagram?”
Me: “I’m not sure? Maybe? How would I know if I do or not?”
Cousin, liking me less and less as this conversation continued: “Well……I’m pretty sure you’d know.”
Me: “I sometimes use Instagram to take pictures…do those automatically get posted? And how would people see them, do I have to follow anyone to make that happen?”
Cousin, totally lying and walking out of the room: “Nevermind, I’ll just find you later….”

And then I felt like your 87 year old grandmother who needs you to explain how email works.

However, I let that go because of course I wouldn’t know what’s what among the 13 year olds and, quite frankly, sort of took pride in that. I’m a grown woman with a job and bills and no time to keep up on the latest social media craze.

Cut to: last night I was out to dinner with some friends and they started talking about some dog with no teeth they were following on Instagram.

Me: “Wait, this is a thing?”
Lisa: “Um, his name is ‘Toast Meets World’ and it’s basically the best thing in life.”
Me: “So it’s just a bunch of dog pictures or something?”
Jen: “How have you not heard of this?”
Me: “Wait, is this, like, something people do?
Lisa: “Don’t you follow stuff on Instagram?”
Me: “I don’t think so….wait, do I? I don’t know. I have an Instagram account but I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with it. And this is the second time in a week this conversation has happened.”

Blank stares.

Jen: “Do you follow people?”
Lisa, grabbing my phone: “Oh my god, you’re following 20 people and one of them is Tori Spelling.”
Me: “Yeah, that sounds right. Is 20 people a lot?”
Lisa, Jen, and Dana in unison: “No!”
Lisa, handing back my phone: “There. Now you’re following everyone at this table, plus Toast Meets World.”
Me: “I have no idea what to do with that information.”
Dana, taking my phone: “Becky, you have 76 requests for people who want to follow you.”
Me: “I do? That sounds like a lot!”
Dana: “It is…especially since you don’t know how to use Instagram.”
Me: “Yeah, I feel like they’ll be disappointed if I accept their request because it might just be an accidental shot of my shoulder that I took unknowingly when taking my phone out of my pocket or something.”
Dana: “Becky…..”
Me: “I’m exhausted. I can’t keep up with all of this stuff. It’s basically Facebook with just pictures, right?”
Caitlin: “Yes, grandma, it’s Facebook with just pictures.”
Me: “And a bunch of hashtags?”
Lisa: “Yes. Hashtag, you’re ridiculous and old.”
Me: “Hashtag true.”

Am I alone here? Is this something we’ve all been doing? #helpagirlout.

Happy Wednesday! 

Monday, September 15, 2014

Conversations from Cohabitation

Sorry, guys, I was on a business trip last week! I PROMISE I'm back now! No, really!

So, the other day I was blow drying my hair and, unbeknownst to CB, could see him in the kitchen, about to make a sandwich. He pulls out a small jar of peanut butter, opens it, looks inside, then closes it and puts it back. He then takes out the larger, unopened jar of peanut butter and goes to make himself a sandwich.

Me, from the bathroom: “Wait, what did you just do?”
CB, freezing in place: “Woman, can’t I make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in peace?”
Me: “Apparently not since I just saw you take out one jar, put it back because, I’m assuming, there wasn’t enough in there, and take out an unopened jar?”
CB, turning towards me: “There’s not enough in the small jar to make a sandwich.”
Me: “Seriously?”
CB, laughing: “Yeah!”
Me, laughing and shaking my head: “Um, just use what’s left in the small jar, throw it out, and then use however much more you need from the bigger, unopened jar.”
CB: “The big one is opened.”
Me: “Wait, why is the big one opened too?”
CB: “Because I did the same thing yesterday.”
Me: “I can’t even believe we’re having this conversation. You are an adult!”
CB: “Yeah, an adult who should get to make his sandwiches in peace!”


Um, apparently I blow dry my hair a lot. Because this next little interaction happened while I was in the bathroom blow drying my hair, too. Also, something important for this - our bathroom has two doors: one that opens into our bedroom, one that opens into our living room.

So, as I was blow drying my hair, I wanted to keep the air conditioning from going into the living room so it would keep our bedroom and bathroom cool while I was in there. As I was going to close the bathroom/living room door, CB came into the bathroom to get a Q-tip from the medicine cabinet.

Me: “Oh, sorry, I was about to close the door. Could you close it on your way out so I can keep the air in?”
CB, going to pull the bathroom/bedroom door closed: “Sure, no problem.”
Me: “No, not that one, the other one.”

So as he closes the other one, I say: “And can you close the bedroom door too, please?”

He does.

As I start blow drying again in the bathroom, I notice that the medicine cabinet is left open. Which isn’t new, but I figured CB did this on purpose to mess with me since I was bugging him about doors.

Me, laughing: “Did you do this on purpose?”
CB: “What?”
Me: “Leave the cabinet door open.”
CB: “No….but I got distracted by all of the other doors I had to close, so I forgot.”
Me, laughing and going back to blow drying with the door closed: "Oh ok."

Cut to: 10 minutes later, as I was finishing up, I thought to myself “ you know, I should go out there and give him a kiss.” And so, I opened the bathroom door to find every single cabinet in the kitchen opened and CB on the couch reading his book.

Me: “I hate you.”
CB, laughing hysterically: “I know.”
Me: “I was coming out here to give you a kiss because I felt bad that we’d been rushing around and I just got home from Seattle and we haven’t had a moment together! But that moment has passed!"
CB, still laughing: “Oh man, the look on your face was worth it.”
Me: “Worst. But no big deal, it doesn’t bother me at all. We can leave them open all day...”
CB: “Yeah, let’s see how long you last.”
Me: “Nope, doesn’t bother me at all…..”

So, I go into the bedroom to get changed and, a few minutes later, come out to find that he has closed all of the cabinets.

Me: “Aw, thanks for closing the cabinets. That was going to be hard to resist.”
CB, laughing: “I know.”
Me, looking at him for a minute: “Wait, why are you laughing? Is it my outfit? Does this look ok?”
CB, laughing harder: “I swear you look good. It’s not that.”
Me: “Then what is it?”
CB, shaking his head: “Nothing…”

So I walk into the bathroom to find the cabinet door re-opened.

Me, from the bathroom: “I hate you!”
CB, laughing: “It never gets old!
Me: “And neither will our marriage if you keep this up!”

Happy Monday, everyone! 

Thursday, September 11, 2014

A Remembrance Re-post

While on the other side of the country for a business trip, I thought I'd take a moment to remember my homies back east and re-post this 9/11 blog from a few years ago.


In light of the fact that today is the anniversary of 9/11, this blog post will be slightly different than the norm. We’ll get right back to the randomness and (hopefully) laughs later in the week, but each year at this time I take a moment to step back, remember, and reflect.

Many of you know that I moved out to New York back when I was 23 years old and fresh off of the farms of Michigan State University (literally and figuratively). One of my best friends and I ventured out on our own for the very first time in our lives, leaving all of our friends and family and comforts behind, driving the U-Haul some 700 miles with our goldfish tucked safely in his bowl in the front seat. It was the end of August 2001 and we could not have been more excited or nervous for what life had in store for us.

We didn’t have too much: no phone, no cable, and a one bedroom apartment so narrow you couldn’t pull out the sleeper couch without moving the tv into the kitchen. We. Had. Arrived.

So on the morning of September 11th, I was just excited to be in the shadows of the city. I was excited to be going into my second week of work, walking what was quickly becoming my “usual route” to the PATH train, thinking about how I couldn’t believe I was really here. But as I got closer and closer to the train station, something felt different.

Garbled announcements were blaring over the loud speakers and people looked quite literally dazed and confused as they filed onto an already over-crowded train and into an air conditioned car, out of the muggy September heat. Some guy on the train kept talking about how one of the towers of the World Trade Center had been hit by a plane, maybe flown by terrorists. It was about 9am and we really couldn’t be bothered with "the crazy guy on the train," so everyone kind of shuffled away from him, rolled their eyes, and held their papers a little higher to avoid eye contact. I obviously wanted to be just like the other New Yorkers, so I turned away from him and tried to settle the unease that was growing in my stomach.

And then I stepped onto 6th avenue.

That view I’d so quickly grown to love was covered in black smoke. There weren’t any cars in the streets, there were sirens in the distance, and there was an eerie calm of a seemingly abandoned city. I continued to walk, faster now, as I made my way south down the avenue, staring up at the blackness that took over the sky.

I will never forget the next moments of that day: the vision of the South Tower falling, the sound of my mom’s voice when we finally got through to each other, the feeling of complete and utter hopelessness as we were told we couldn’t get off of the island, and the absolute surrender to whatever was to come next.

But that's not all that stays with me now when I look down at the newly rising tower on the south tip of Manhattan. That’s not what stays with me when someone starts talking about that day or reminisces about their own personal 9/11 experience.

What stays with me is this: on that day, in that moment, for a fleeting time in our history, this city was united and people came together. It’s actually something I’ve tried really hard to hold onto.

When I first got to this city, it was shiny and new and filled with possibilities. It was also grungy and cold and filled with strangers. It was the place I’d dreamed about and nothing like I’d thought it would be. It was the city I figured I’d play in for a few years and then leave to get on with my "real" life. But it’s the city that ended up cradling me during the craziest and most exciting decade of my life so far.

I’m not interested in debating the politics of what lead to or came after that day. I’m not interested in the conspiracy theories and the what if’s that will forever surround that moment and this country. What I’m interested in is holding onto that feeling of being united and remembering that it’s possible. Not in some Pollyanna, “let’s just hold hands and sing Kumbaya” kind of way, either. But in the practical “I’ve seen this happen, I know it’s possible," kind of way. And I consider myself one of the lucky ones, because lots of people can go through their entire lives wondering if it’s possible or not. And now I don’t have to wonder.

People can be incredibly kind and generous and people can be horribly malicious and cruel. And on that day, in those moments, I witnessed both in their purest forms. I saw it in the crumbling towers and felt it as I was guided through the city by a man covered in ash and rubble from the North Tower from which he ran.

So today, just like every year on this day, I choose to look at the skyline I’ve grown to call home and remember the darkness and the light. To know that it’s possible, to take a breath and relax as tourists stop in the middle of the sidewalk in awe of the city I sometimes take for granted, and to remember those who don’t have the luxury of being here today to know what’s possible.

None of us will ever forget, I don’t even think we could if we tried. But what I hope we can also remember is that it’s possible to come together, it’s possible to be just a little bit kinder, just a little bit more patient, just a little bit…more.

It’s possible. Please don’t forget. 

Monday, September 8, 2014

How Marriage Turned Me Into a Monster

So, we got married. I realize that I’m sort of late to the game on this announcement, but apparently when you get married, you completely lose track of space and time and fly to foreign lands where blogging is overshadowed by flowery drinks and king sized beds.

ALSO! The king sized bed is the key to all happiness and renders you virtually unable to detect another human on the very other side of this enormous sleep heaven. It was win/win for my blossoming marriage and, upon returning to the reality of New Jersey, our sad queen had me suggesting to CB that “maybe you should go and sleep on the blow up air mattress in the living room.” To which I think he just told me how much he loved me and how happy he was that he’s legally bound to me for forever and ever. I mean, that was the gist.

Anyway, while thinking about what my very first “official” blog post would be as Mrs. CB, I realized that I could bore you with details about centerpieces and lacey dresses and having the best time ever. But that’s not why you come to this here blog now, is it? Besides, all of the beauty got overshadowed by marriage taking all of mine away within 48 hours, to the tune of CB waking up Monday morning and saying “what’s wrong with your face?”

Ahh, love.

You see, for a few days leading up to our wedding, I was having a hard time sleeping. And so, come Saturday, I was basically running on coffee, excitement, and love fumes that fueled me well into the wee hours of Sunday morning. Which found me wide-eyed and still awake into the less-wee hours of Sunday and right on into the dark hours of Sunday night when I started dry coughing, popping Advil, and low-moaning about why my body hated me.

And I’m sure that CB would’ve been a lot more sympathetic to my plight had he been awake and not snoring in the “listening to how sick you feel” position in bed. However, I figured a night of taking nighttime cold medicine, 18 cough drops, and lots of water would do the trick.

But the joke was on me and my excitement over hopping a 22 hour flight to my honeymoon the next day when I woke up to what I can only describe as “Sloth Face.” Except less charming? 
Not the look you want your
new husband to experience. At least not
'til Year Two. 

Apparently, my body responds poorly to stress, exhaustion, and intricate planning that depends upon nothing going wrong. And so, when I took a look in the mirror, all I saw was a severely puffy face and incredibly dark, “you got punched in both eyes” circles that accentuated the wrinkles I recently acquired along with my new last name.

Me: “What the f happened to my face?!?”
CB, being cautious and smart: “I think maybe you’re tired…”
Me, turning around to point at my face: “Tired?! Why is my face swollen and I have two black eyes and wrinkles??”
CB: “Yeah, I’m not sure what’s happening…”
Me: “I mean, maybe it’s sinuses? But I’ve had sinus infections before and it’s never looked like this.”
CB: “It definitely does look unique to anything I’ve seen before.”
Me: “We have to go to urgent care.”
CB: “And you should probably put on some sunglasses.”
Me: “I hate you.”

But he was right.

Fast forward to an hour later as I was sitting in the doctor’s office and explaining my symptoms.

Doctor: “I’m not quite sure what it is, but it’s likely viral. But let me check your ears first because, if you have an ear infection, you won’t be able to get on the plane.”

And then, without having to say any words, CB and I looked at each other and came to the understanding that, should said ear infection exist within my body, he would be experiencing Indonesia all on his own and we’d get over the horrible fight later that we would be having to lead to that decision.

Doctor: “No ear infection, so that’s good news.”
Me: “Oh thank God, I thought you might be going alone!”
CB: “I’m glad we were on the same page.”

Anyway, she prescribed some meds, sent me with a list of over-the-counters to buy at CVS, and wished us a happy, virus-free life together. And I’m happy to say that, by the time we landed in Bali, I was much less swollen, very well-rested, and ready for the adventure! And what an adventure it was……

….which I’ll tell you about next time! Happy Monday, everyone! 

Tuesday, September 2, 2014

Yep, we got married! CB is legit!

It's, like, 3 in the morning my body's time and it's getting quite angry with me that I'm not sleeping. However, in a few days I should be back to normal (using the term loosely) and blogging my little heart out about Weddingpalooza and Bali, baby! 

But right now I'm just posting this video of our last song at the reception because it makes me happy. 

Thanks for checking in, guys, and for hanging in there over the last several weeks while I've been such a selfish non-blogger!


Friday, August 15, 2014

So, I'm getting married tomorrow...

And won't be blogging today or over the weekend...but I PROMISE to write before we take off for our honeymoon because I'm just a good time like that!

Thanks for your well wishes, everyone! I get to go marry CB!!!

Wednesday, August 13, 2014

Our Friends and Family Hate Us: Noted.

So in the last 24 hours, I've received two text message chains that confirm for me that, apparently, our friends and family actually not-so-secretly hate us.

Here's the first one:

Last night, I get a text from CB's cousin - who also happens to be standing up in our wedding, might I add - with a simple little smiley halo guy. I was like "Did you just send me a smiley halo?" and he said "Yep" and I was thinking that was a little strange, but also thought maybe he was just feeling sentimental about the wedding. Aw.

Cut to:

Me: "Matt just sent me a text of a smiley halo."
CB: "He did? It wasn't an accident?"
Me: "No, I even double-checked. I guess he was just being nice!"
CB: "Hmmm, that doesn't seem like him. Something's up."

Me, checking Facebook to find this video tagged with my name:


Me: "I hate your cousin."
CB: "Yeah, that seems about right." 

And then this text exchange happened:

Me: "Like I don't have anything else going on in the next few days? Now I have to pour a bucket of ice water over my head? Can't I just donate?"
CB: "That will never fly with Matt. Should we do it now?"
Me: "Absolutely not, I'm alphabetizing 172 name cards right now!"
CB: "You're gonna have to do it, you know."
Me, grumbling: "I know. And I hate him."
CB: "He knows. And he loves it."


And here's the second: 

This morning I awoke to this text from our friend and neighbor upstairs: 

Uh, just in case you don't feel like clicking over to that link, I'll nutshell it for you: an American man's body was found in a suitcase in Bali at a resort town just south of where CB and I will be staying in approximately one week. 

Me, showing the text to CB this morning as we got ready for work: 

CB: "What?? Why is he showing us that now?"
Me: "I think he just wants us to be safe and aware."
CB, laughing: "But it's not like we're still deciding where to go, that ship has sailed! You know when that would've been useful? 6 months ago!"
Me: "Well, if you promise not to get into any suitcases, I make the same promise and we'll hope for the best."
CB: "Deal."

Happy Wednesday! 

Monday, August 11, 2014

Brides Gone Wild

So, for weeks now people have been commenting on how calm I seem leading up to the wedding. That I don’t seem stressed at all and I’m the picture of a cool and collected bride. I mean, I’m paraphrasing, but that’s basically the gist.

Uh, don’t sound so shocked, EVERYONE, I don’t understand how you’d expect me to be any other way!

However, I think the calm exterior is my way of shielding people I love from the insanity that lurks just beneath the surface. The stuff that I keep close to the vest for just those special few (hundred) to witness. Because yesterday morning I had a moment that shocked even me, but only after it happened and only just a little bit. I’d totally do it again, let’s get real.

You see, ever since I got my wedding dress back from the seamstress, it’s been hanging all safe and secure in the closet of my friend’s apartment down the hall. And every day since that moment, I’ve thought about the time when I would FINALLY get to put it on and twirl around and become the best version of my true self that there could possibly be. Which obviously involves a very pretty dress, I can’t even believe I’d have to point that out to you guys.

But yesterday morning it’s possible that I may have gone ‘round the bend, even for me. SEE, universe!? This is what happens when I deny myself something that so clearly is part of my soul! I hope you’re proud of yourself.

You see, our friends have been gone on vacation for a few weeks, and we’ve been collecting their mail, watering their plants, and generally just being awesome neighbors. So yesterday morning, I dropped their mail on the table and went to use their computer and printer so I could make bulleted, printed lists of everything we need to pack for our wedding weekend and honeymoon. Obviously. That’s just good planning.

However, as I sat and waited for the computer to turn on, I could hear something calling me from the closed door behind me. I mean, I know that in general, inanimate objects don’t speak to you, but I think that rule is waived for brides? I’m pretty sure I read that somewhere.

So I thought it’d be a harmless little visit just to say a quick hello and reassure her (what?) that I’d be back in just a few days for the real deal. Which I really do think was a solid plan, especially since I was alone in someone else’s apartment listening to the 80s Love Songs Pandora station on their computer while making duplicates of lists and scanning important documents in case a giant barracuda decided to end it for me in Bali.

I've been practicing my
whole life. 
Anyway, I don’t know how exactly I found myself zipping up the dress and standing in the middle of an apartment that wasn’t mine, spinning around and feeling the serendipity of the exact moment when I found a full-length mirror and the Peter Cetera song from “Karate Kid II” came on.

I said I don’t KNOW! Quit judging me!

However, I think I pulled it together quite well, in the end. I mean, I did sort of stare and twirl alone for what may have been 10-15 minutes. That part is true. And I may have even contemplated just keeping it on while I worked on the computer, you know, just to make sure it moved alright and I could sit and stuff. That’s also true. (but I didn’t, which shows maturity and restraint.) But I totally think it’s normal to pretend to get married in the mirror while 80s love songs are playing in the background and you’re alone in someone else’s home envisioning what CB’s face will look like while he says his vows.


And it was glorious.

So, I apologize in advance to anyone who will be spending any real-life time with me leading up to this weekend, because there’s an insane intruder wearing a bustle who can’t be reasoned with rising very quickly to the surface of my being. AND SHE’S SO EXCITED! (and apparently yell-y.)

Happy Monday, everyone! 

Friday, August 8, 2014

Friday Wrapup

Let's get to it!


First order of business: I want to adopt a puffin. Also, I may be less productive than usual given my responsibility to watch the Puffiin Cam 24/7 now.

Carry on.


This week's book is "The Snow Child" by Eowyn Ivey. Which, I'd like to point out, is the re-debut by my sister onto the book blog! She took a bit of a hiatus and then my dad was like "Um, I'm not the only one who reads in my family, why are the rest of you such slackers?" And I thank him for that because he keeps us chugging along even when I'm like "dad, I'm totally posting my book this week." And then I don't. And then he's like "Ok, so I posted something." and then coughs "slacker" under his breath.

ANYWAY. She describes the book as a treasure, so click here to check it out and peruse around for other inspiration!


OH MY GOD. This video might rival the puffin cam because I literally have tears in my eyes from laughter. I can't stop watching it.


So, while getting ready for work this morning, I turned on one of the music channels and an Ingrid Michaelson song was on. I said "I like her." And then, casually while watering the plants, CB says "So...what's this song about?"

Me: "What's it about?"
CB: "Yeah."
Me: "I don't know, I'm guessing girls who chase boys who chase girls."
CB: "That's it?"
Me, laughing: "I mean, are you looking for a deeper meaning?"
CB: "I don't know, just sometimes there's hidden messages in there or something."
Me: "Oh yeah, hidden meanings?"
CB: "Well music these days, you just don't know."
Me: "Oh my God, I feel like I'm talking to my grandfather about music. You are so old."
CB, laughing: "I'm just saying. 'Boys who chase girls' is the whole song?"
Me: "No, it's girls who chase boys who chase girls."
CB: "Same thing. I don't get it."
Me: "You're a million years old."

And here you have it. Any ideas for CB as to what the hidden meaning might be?

Happy Friday!

Wednesday, August 6, 2014

Conversations from Cohabitation

The other day we were watching "Karate Kid" and a commercial for "Titanic" came on.

Me: "See, it could be worse. We could be watching 'Titanic.'"
CB: "I've got news for you, we would not be watching 'Titanic.'"
Me: "Have you seen it?"
CB: "Yeah, I saw it when it came out."
Me: "Courtney and I saw it 7 times in the theater together."
CB: "Please don't tell people that."
Me: "But it's true!"
CB: "Still. That should go in the "stuff I keep to myself" pile."
Me: "Yeah, but if it were up to you I'd keep almost everything in that pile."
CB: "Exactly."


Uh, I got the confirmation email this morning from a very nice woman in Bali who has organized our snorkeling excursion while on our honeymoon. It included the following sentence:

"...keep an eye out for the resident school of jacks, bump-head parrot fish, blue spotted sting rays, harlequin sweet-lips, giant groupers and giant barracuda."

So obviously I sent an email to CB. The subject line said: "Um....." and then it was this screenshot.


While reading said email and simultaneously watching a terrifying clip on "Good Morning America" about a shark attacking a sea camera:

Me: "Um, it's like the universe is trying to terrify me out of enjoying our honeymoon."
CB: "You do a pretty good job of that on your own. You'll be fine!"
Me: "Um, the shark attacked a camera. It'd totally attack me."
CB, while walking out of the room: "There won't be any sharks."
Me: "But 'giant barracudas' sounds like a good time! They have teeth in front of their face!"


Me: "And did she have to use the word 'giant'? I mean, 'barracuda' would've been sufficient."


Me: "Also, I'm now going to call you "Harlequin Sweet Lips," ok?"


Me: "I'll take that as a yes.

Happy Wednesday, everyone!

Monday, August 4, 2014

Wedding Vows That Didn't Make the Cut.

So remember a few weeks ago when I tried to work on my vows and instead did 14 other things that had nothing to do with vows? Well, I wanted to let you all know that I did, in fact, finish them. And, I might add, I totally finished before CB. It was a contest. He didn’t know that it was a contest, but then I guess that just goes to show that he doesn’t know his almost-wife nearly as well as he thinks he does, because of course it was a race to the finish line.

Unless he finished first, in which case it would’ve just been that I took more care and time to really be thoughtful and he rushed through them because everything is always a competition, CB, ugh.

Anyway, this morning I muttered loudly under my breath that he must be incapable of closing his dresser drawers all the way because they are always half-open. Which you’d think would not affect me in the least, but then apparently none of you know me that well, either, because of course it affects me. Because I have eyes and it’s an assault on all of my senses that see that things are almost closed, but not quite.

(yes, I’ve heard there’s medication for this. No time.)

So then he mentioned that he could have “way worse traits than leaving my dresser drawers open,” to which I failed to see how that was true, and then we went along our merry way being somehow simultaneously a perfect match and unbelievably opposite.

Which got me to thinking that there were a ton of things that I left out of my vows, mainly for the sake of time. However, we’ve got all the time in the world on this here blog, so I thought I’d jot down a few that I totally left out and will certainly include in the sequel should we ever decide to punish our friends and renew our vows a decade from now when nobody even cares.

So here we go, CB:

  • I promise to try to tell stories a little bit faster so that you don’t get bored during the parts when I start to ramble. Which is pretty much all of the parts. But if I didn’t tell stories in our household, nobody would, since you don’t tell any stories until months later and I have to find out that you had an entire 20 minute dog-chase escapade in Weehawken that included other people and a fake dog leash while casually driving down the street where this all happened weeks ago. I can’t believe you didn’t immediately tell me about that, weirdo. But I still do promise to try to ramble less. 

  • I promise to not only invite you to come “sit next to me on the couch” so that you can scratch my head until I fall asleep while watching a tv show you didn’t even want to watch. I do love just sitting next to you, but it’s just that you’re so good at scratching my head that it just seems like killing two birds with one stone…. 

  • I promise to try and not ask you to move to the other side of the counter when you’re helping cut vegetables for dinner even though 30 seconds ago I asked you to stand there because otherwise you were in my way. I DON’T KNOW WHY I ALWAYS DO THAT. I swear it’s not on purpose and I totally sense your annoyance when it happens every time, mainly because you tell me how annoying it is. But I promise I’ll try to anticipate my cooking needs better so that you’re not standing in the middle of the kitchen holding a cutting board and sharp knife in confusion. Because also that may prove to be dangerous to me as time goes on…

  • I promise not to recite all of the lines to the Karate Kid Parts I and II when I excitedly find and watch it on ABC Family. I realize you’re barely keeping it together in the first place by sitting through these classics, and so when I start reciting the lines in the voices and inflections so that it’s just right, it’s probably not your most favorite thing. I realize I did this a lot yesterday – both while watching Karate Kid and also The Bodyguard. Oh, and I promise not to say “movie kiss!” and then try to fake movie kiss you like Kevin Costner and Whitney Houston do at the end when you’re just trying to kiss me hello. I know it makes you want to maybe never kiss me, but sometimes it’s fun and surprisingly difficult to fake-kiss! 

  • And finally, I promise to try not to be so evil when I sleep. I don’t know why I always do that. It’s my subconscious demon-half coming through and I have no idea why I sleep hit you all night and angrily mutter that you’re being too shaky in the bed. But you do flop a lot and you weigh, like, almost 200 pounds. So for a dainty lady like me, it feels like I’m being tossed around on a life raft and it’s terrifying. Partly because I have an eye mask on and ear plugs in and am vulnerable to my surroundings in that moment. But also because I’m a super-grumpy sleeper and I realize I’m the worst.


12 days, you guys! Happy Monday! 

Friday, August 1, 2014

Friday Wrapup

A lot to get to, so let's get to it!

I appreciate you all sticking with me since I've been an incredibly bad blogger lately. Things at work - and in life - have been hectic and just yesterday I exhaled after what was a crazy few weeks. So, now we can officially start the countdown to Weddingpalooza because my focus is back on what's really important in life - parties! (oh, and love. But mainly parties.) Which means I might become unbearable, but maybe also entertaining? So, stay tuned next week when I'm back in full force!

Anyway. I saw this video this morning, which is a bunch of puppies expressing to me how they feel now that my one work deadline is behind me and it's Friday.

Same, puppies. Same.


So, recently my readership has grown a bit and part of this - for sure - is due to the fact that I have a new PR person working for me. His name is Jay and he lives in my building and I didn't hire him, nor does he know that he's my PR person. But he does it anyway, and it's awesome and embarrassing all at the same time.


The other evening I was in our apartment's shuttle van on the way home from work, and one of the other residents leaned forward to ask me a question:

Resident: "Excuse me, what's your name again?"
Me: "Becky."
Resident: "Right, Becky. Well, I just wanted to tell you that I started reading your blog...."
Me: "Oh no! How did you find out about...oh wait, Jay told you, right?"
Resident, laughing: "Yep! He told me I had to check it out and that it's so funny."
Me: "Oh my gosh, I'm so embarrassed. I haven't even really been blogging much lately because I've been so busy."
Resident: "Well I've only read about two so far, but it really is funny."
Me: "I'm gonna' kill Jay. He tells everyone!"
Other resident: "Oh yeah, the other day in the shuttle he was talking to me about it! He was joking that, because of your fans wanting to know more about you, we should have a TMZ-type van that drives through the neighborhood and points out where you live and then he'd be like 'Oh, she's upstairs at the pool. But I can only take three people at a time, so the rest of you will have to wait and take turns.'"
Me: "Oh my gosh, he really should be doing my PR. He tells more people about the blog than I do!"

And then we all laughed about how Jay is the best - and also maybe should be getting paid for his services?

So, I just wanted to give him a shout out here on the blog because, um, you probably know him already. Because he's probably told you that you have to read this blog. And then explained that he wasn't sure if it's cool that he reads it because he's a guy, but then got confirmation from other guys that they read it, too, and so it's OK if you're a guy and you want to read a blog about my underpants without being a creep. (I've heard that conversation happen more than once.)

So....hi, Jay! Check's in the mail!


Um, I hope this bear is hanging out around the Indian Ocean in a few weeks so when I start panic-flapping, s/he'll casually come and save me in between bites of food. I love this.


My dad is the best and keeps our little book blog afloat in times when I promise for weeks that I'm going to post something and then don't. However, my sister reassured me earlier this week that she has a book she's going to post about, so let's all just assume we'll be seeing that up there next week so we can give my dad a break AND I don't have to write anything, either! Because I'm the worst at doing it in a timely fashion.

ANYWAY, this week's book is "Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell" by Susanna Clarke. Click here to check it out and peruse around for some other good summer reads!


And now, the Video of the Week. Basically because the song is in my bones at the moment and I'm a sucker for a Pharrell beat. I'M ONLY HUMAN.

Happy Friday, you guys! See you Monday!

Wednesday, July 30, 2014

Old Conversations from Cohabitation

While laying on the couch the other night watching tv:

Me: “Oh my God, look! I just pulled the bottom of my underwear below my shorts!”
CB: “What is wrong with you?”
Me: “How giant are my underpants? I seriously thought I was pulling down my shorts and, instead, it’s actually my underpants hanging out!”
CB: “You know that you don’t have to show me these things, right?”
Me: “But I knew you’d want to see it because it’s crazy.”
CB: “You’re crazy.”
Me: “Same thing.”


Me: “I wonder what our future kids will be like….”
CB: “Awesome.”
Me: “Well, obviously. But, like, I wonder what traits of ours they’ll have, you know?”
CB: “Well, they’ll probably be funny and likely pretty coordinated, especially if they have my genes.”

Looks at me.

Me: “And should be wrapped in bubble wrap at all times?”
CB: “Yeah, because they’ll have your genes too, I suppose.”


CB was in the kitchen slicing the chicken as I was preparing the side dish. He was totally silent.

Me: “Get the lime juice……..ok, 1/3 teaspoon of lime juice……”
CB, silent.
Me: “Ok, did the lime juice…….now baking soda…baking soda…do we have baking soda?….ahh, baking soda! Ok, did the baking soda…….”
CB, silent.
Me: “Now mix…set aside….ok, got it.”
Me, looking over at CB: “How is it that you’re so quiet and I’m talking through every cooking step?”
CB: “What would I talk through?”
Me: “I don’t know…’Now I’m slicing the chicken…’. That’s probably what I’d do. But I’m just realizing that I basically just talked through every single cooking step I did while you stood here quietly.”
CB: “To be fair to you, though, you kind of talk through the steps of your whole life.”
Me: “I love how you understand me."

Happy Wednesday, everyone! Sorry for brief blogging this week, but check out the Friday Wrapup and I'll be back to normal(ish) on Monday! 

Monday, July 28, 2014

I'm super old.

Re-posting because ohmygod I can't even think straight, you guys.


This morning someone called me ma’am. And while we all know that it’s not the first time, it didn’t sting any less, you guys.

You can tell I've matured by
how I hold my wine glass. 
Which got me to thinking about when, exactly, I became an adult. When did I turn from ‘miss’ to ‘ma’am’ and how on earth do I make it stop? Was it when I finally moved out on my own and started working in the “real world”? Was it when there was a 3 in front of my age and everyone assumed I’d finally matured? Or was it when I realized that, while my soul feels perpetually 16, my body clearly looks like a ma’am.  

Which got me to thinking about all of the things that happen to you as an adult that totally suck.

For example:  

You cannot sleep in. When I was a teenager and through most of my twenties, I could sleep half of the day away before even considering waking up. So much so that I used to go to my 11am “morning” class in college in pajamas. To be fair, though, the class was IN my dorm and so technically I didn’t have to leave my house.

But now, if I sleep until 8 it’s like I’ve hit the lottery, and even then, I’ve likely been waking up every half hour thinking I’ve missed a meeting or an alarm or I just really want to wake up to French press my coffee and read the newspaper. And then I get sad because I realize I’ve become an adult. And then CB points out that adults don’t normally have sparkle phones and I feel much better.

You check in on your 401K. Just that sentence alone says it all. And makes us simultaneously responsible and horrifically uncool, which is sort of the underlying theme of adulthood, I've found. 

You talk endlessly about what’s for dinner. Up until a few years ago, the contents of my grocery list included “ramen” or “peanut butter.” Though, to be fair, those sometimes are still on my list now (and don’t ask my friends about the time I confessed to putting ketchup on my egg noodles because you’ll find out that my friends are big fat liars and nobody should listen to them ever.)

But in the last few years I’ve become that person who watches cooking shows and reads cooking magazines to get Quick Weekday Meal ideas and stuff.


I mean, I’m not the person who rips recipes out of magazines and adds it to her cookbook. Hell, I’m not even the person who OWNS a cookbook. Except I totally am that person, you guys, and it’s freaking me out!

Yesterday, I had a whole conversation with my coworker about the best way to cook asparagus. And then I had a whole conversation with CB about what our menu options were for the week based upon the groceries I’d purchased.

And then my child-heart cried.

You use anti-wrinkle cream un-ironically. And you also make sure to put it on your neck, which is  a sign you take this sh*t seriously.

You start talking about things that hurt. This one is hard to admit because it’s the ultimate sign that you’re no longer twenty-something. But when you and your friends can sit around talking about joint pain and your bad backs, you know you’ve gone ‘round the bend.

Also, if you’re doing this while simultaneously looking at your 401k, just end it now.

You think of old people as young to make yourself feel better. 

It’s important to understand that the conversation you’re about to read happened while we were making the bed.

Me: “Did you hear that?”
CB: “What?”
Me: “Dustin Hoffman is 75.”
CB: “Yeah, he’s been around for a while.”
Me: “He looks really good for his age.”
CB: “He does.”

Silence, fluffing pillows.

Me: “I mean, if I had to guess, I’d never guess he was in his 70s.”
CB, clearly not as invested in the conversation: “Yeah.”

Silence, straightening the bed runner.

Me: “Do you think that’s because we’re getting older?”
CB: “What?
Me: “I mean, when I was younger, 75 sounded super-old. But now when I hear that someone’s 75 I’m like ‘oh, that’s not old at all.’”
CB, staring at me.
Me: “Like, do you think that it doesn’t seem old because I realize subconsciously that I’m closer to that person in age now than I was 15 years ago and so I’m trying to make myself feel younger by making them not seem old?”
CB: “I think you think about this kind of stuff more than the average person.”
Me: “But do you know what I mean?”
CB: “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

And then he left the room, likely to contemplate how wise and deep I am.

And the list goes on. What did I miss? 

Friday, July 25, 2014

Friday Wrapup

Let's get to it!


This week's book is a throwback, but the review mentions Tori Spelling and wasn't even written by me, you guys! You must check it out. Click here and peruse around! What are you guys reading these days?


If there was ever a dramatization via Dalmation and kitten of what life in our apartment is like, this is it. Obviously I'm the kitten. Because I'm dainty.


Speaking of my dainty ways, the Video of the Week. I can't get this song out of my head and it's likely because I really am all about that bass, when you really get down to it.

Also, this morning I was playing it on my phone and danced into the kitchen where CB was making his lunch to take to work. "Please don't bring that song over here."

Obviously I kept dancing near him.

"Get your booty bump away from me."

Kept dancing.

"You're a crazy person."

I'll let you decide who spoke those words of love.


Happy Friday, everyone!

Wednesday, July 23, 2014

Underpants, underpants, and more underpants.

I just had a conversation about my Booty-Bump last night as I discussed the fact that I plan on wearing it under my wedding dress. Obviously.

Which leads me to re-posting this from last year about my GIANT UNDERPANTS. Seriously, you guys, underpants don't fit my freakish body.

However, I promise to post something real, in the form of the Friday Wrapup, on Friday! See you then!


Ok, so I don’t remember if I’ve ever told you guys about my ongoing issues with giant underpants. Have I?  Basically, it’s that I own and wear - accidentally - giant underpants that never fit my fanny.  Why? Because I was blessed with a behind that is simply an extension of my upper legs and in no way has shape or form.

Which, I must say, is a really unfortunate attribute in a post J-Lo world.

Anyway, I’ve had many a situation where I’ve found myself walking down the street while having to pull up my giant underpants as they make their way down my thighs. And one time I was getting patted down by an airport security person (like, I was at the airport, so it wasn’t inappropriate or anything) and I TOTALLY COULD TELL that she felt my underpants around my upper thighs and kept moving her hand up and down over it to figure out what the hell it was.

So obviously I immediately texted Courtney and was like “I think the airport security woman just realized that my underpants are not where they’re supposed to be.” And she was like “this is a perfectly normal conversation to be having with an adult.”

Also, I want to just cut to the chase where we experience the inevitable moment of you telling me that I’m just buying the wrong size underpants.

First of all, no I’m not.

Second of all, people in the underpants industry need to start making undergarments for people without any junk in the trunk. You can’t just assume there’s going to be a little something there. Some of us have tried for years – via chocolate cake and extra servings of pasta – to create the illusion of a bump, to no avail.

Some of us have even purchased the As Seen On TV Booty Bump, complete with the experience of your friends giving you the “good game” pat on your rear after a super funny joke or something and being like “why does your butt feel like pushy cotton?” And then you have to be like “What? That’s what butts feel like.” And they’re like “No, we have butts. That’s not what they feel like.” And then you hang your head in shame because FAIL.

Anyway, this happened, yet again, yesterday morning – and ALL DAY – while walking to work. I made the Number One Big Underpants Mistake and wore a dress. This is a no-no when your undergarments don’t fit because they will inevitably surpass the hemline of your dress, if you’re not careful, and then you’ll become THAT GIRL.

Also, I’m totally that girl.  
Tights might be a good option.

And I realize that if I bought smaller underpants, they’d likely stay around my waist because they’d be tighter. But then there’s the great debate of “What’s better? Underpants around your thighs or muffin top?”

A question for the ages.

Anyway, wearing accidentally giant underpants with a dress is super uncomfortable because you have to develop a finely honed skill of pulling your underpants up while simultaneously pulling your dress down so that you don’t moon half of Manhattan. And you also find yourself having these conversations with your better half.

CB: “So I saw that you were going to post something tomorrow about your underpants.”
Me: “Ugh, yes. They’re soooo big.”
CB: “You’re wearing the wrong underwear.”
Me: “It doesn’t happen to all of them, but enough to where I think that it’s the underwear, not me. I mean, they fall down ALL the time.”
CB: “But you’re the one buying the underwear, right?”
Me: “Right. But at least I have cute underwear.”
CB: “Kind of not the point.”
Me: “I think they’re either labeled wrong or my butt is even smaller than I thought it was. I mean, I can’t wear the Booty Bump every day.”
CB: “The what?”
Me: “The Booty Bump. It gives your booty a little bump.”
CB: “You know there are exercises you could do that would do that naturally so you don’t have to wear something called the Booty Bump?”
Me: “I’ve tried everything. If I do exercises it just makes my butt muscular and flat.”
CB: “But there are body builders and stuff who obviously can do it.”
Me: “So you want me to be a body builder so I can have a butt?”
CB: “No, you’re missing the point. I’m just saying that it’s possible to exercise and create that naturally by doing various exercises.”
Me: “I don’t want to do steroids.”
CB: “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”
Me: “I’m just saying that sometimes my underpants fall down and sometimes it’s embarrassing and sometimes a girl wants the bump illusion. I’m living the dream.”
CB: “You know, you don’t have to tell me everything, right?”
Me: “But who else am I going to tell?”
CB: “Nobody.”
Me: “That’s not an option.”
CB: “I’m aware.”

So what do you guys think? Any suggestions?

Monday, July 21, 2014

Better Homes and Gardens: Beginners Edition

So I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – I don’t really feel like an adult. And I don’t even mean that to imply that I feel like a child, because I don’t feel that way, either. I mean, I go to work, I pay rent, I buy all of my own things and even listen to NPR news each morning like only an adult would choose to do. I’m grown.

However, I still call my parents to ask them questions about all sorts of things, ranging from what mysterious illness I think I might have at any given moment to whether I can use dish soap in the dishwasher because I’m too lazy to go down the block to buy more.

Actually, that last part is a lie – I didn’t call my parents for that. Instead, I mentioned that it was my actual plan to CB and he was like “you absolutely can’t do that. My dad did that once and the kitchen filled up with bubbles.” So I’m guessing his dad doesn’t always feel like an adult either?  However, we learned the lesson by watching an adult do it, and so that’s almost the same thing as just calling and asking, I figure.

Anyway, I had another “we’re not adults” moment yesterday when we went to the nursery to check out what we’re using for our centerpieces and decided, while we were there, that we should try to finally grow something in the empty planters we’ve had on our balcony for a year.

So as we wandered around, we happened upon some pepper plants, which seemed like a natural thing for us to grow since we use peppers to cook with all the time. However, did you guys know that you can’t plant certain things next to other things? Like, apparently if you plant mint next to, say, a rose bush, the mint will try to attack the roses and there will be all out plant anarchy. Or something.

I did not, however, know this. CB did, but that’s basically because we’ve established that, in this partnership, he’s in charge of knowing parental-type things like that so our future children have someone to call when they’re panic-gardening 30 years from now.

Me: “Wow, I know nothing about this. I literally have never grown or planted anything. The only thing I kept alive, other than myself, was Oliver. And he was sort of self-sustaining.”
CB: “I don’t really know very much, either.”
Me: “But you knew that I should Google whether we could plant peppers next to basil!”
CB: “So me knowing that we should check Google is the bar we’re setting?”
Me: “Well, I just picked that flowering plant for the balcony because it had pink petals. So…yeah. I mean, it could be poisonous for all I know.”
CB: “It’s a perennial. It’s not poisonous.”
Me: “See! You totally know about gardening.”

However, the reason this marriage is going to work is because I was wise enough to realize we needed accessories.

Me: “Should we get that cute little gardening tool?”
CB: “I’m pretty sure we don’t need a gardening tool like that to plant three peppers and some basil.”
Me: “We do. And also I think you need gloves.”
CB: “Just me? You don’t need gloves?”
Me: “Ha! It’s funny that you think I’m having any part in the planting. You definitely don’t want me involved in that. I’ll be in charge of aesthetics, you be in charge of labor. Deal?”
CB: “Do I have a choice?”
Me: “And I’ll be in charge of cooking with the peppers and basil and feeding you if you promise to water them and keep them alive because I’ll definitely forget and they’ll die.”
CB: “Yeah, that seems fair. Deal.”

And then we high-fived. Like adult gardeners do.

So if you have any tips for us, green thumbs of the blogosphere, feel free to share them! Unless it’s to tell us that we can’t plant peppers next to basil. Because that ship has sailed and I’m planning our meals for the fall around our “I hope we don’t kill what we just bought!” strategy.

Living in harmony....for now. 

Happy Monday! 

Friday, July 18, 2014

Friday Wrapup

Let's get to it!


First of all, you guys are way ahead of me on the Book of the Week this week. There was a comment on the post before I even woke up! You guys are loyal. Love it.

So, for those of you who weren't up at the crack of dawn anxiously awaiting the Book of the Week, click here to check it out - it's "Spies of the Balkans" by Alan Furst. But you probably knew that already. Enjoy!


This woman should make us all take a good, hard look at what we've done today. For example, I tripped while getting out of bed and then almost fell asleep in the shower. So, you know, I could totally win a Ninja Warrior game show.


And now, the Video of the Week. Basically because I like the song and the video. I'm not a hard one to figure out.

Enjoy! Happy Friday!

Wednesday, July 16, 2014

What day is it?

I woke up extra early today so I could come into work an hour earlier than usual, which is in addition to the additional morning hour I come in for summer hours, and so my brain is two hours more tired than it normally is. Or something. I'm not good at math, but what I do know is that I definitely haven't had enough coffee. And that I thought today was Thursday, which had me super excited until Wednesday took all the fun out of it by being the actual day it is.

Anyway, bear (bare? I think it's bear and am too lazy to google it) with me in the coming two weeks or something as I hammer away at work so I can go on a tropical vacation and not check my Blackberry as sea snakes are trying to attack me. However, I would never leave you high and dry, so I went into the archives and found a post from almost exactly a year ago. How time flies! Enjoy, and happy Wedursday!


So, I think I have to stop mind-planning my wedding for a while because I just came across an article where they were talking about the hip new thing for brides. And it gave me such a flop sweat, anxiety-inducing mental scare that I immediately shut down the internet and tried to time-travel back to when I didn’t know how to use my brain to form words.

Bridal Party Boudoir Shots, you guys.

What are bridal party boudoir shots? They’re a combination of everything in my life that terrifies me, which I’m pretty sure is the exact opposite feeling I’m supposed to have about anything related to my wedding day. Also, I’m pretty sure nobody in my life needs to see me cuddling my friends, nearly-nude, in an 8x10 matte frame.

So um, first of all, how does this conversation first occur? You just, what, approach your future sister-in-law and be all casual and chatty about taking your clothes off together on camera? Because nothing would be more terrifying to me – or CB’s sister – than having that talk. She doesn’t even like to be hugged, so I’m pretty sure she has zero desire to get all cuddly in the nude with someone she’s forced to become family with in 12 months.

I can't even, you guys.
Also, I can tell you right now that my sister wouldn’t even finish that conversation. She’d be like “Girl, get real.” And then start talking about vegan food or something and I’d recoil in the corner realizing that nobody wants to take naked pictures with me.  

Second of all, can we flash back real quick to a few weeks ago when I tried on wedding dresses? (click here if you missed it). I barely like to get naked for myself, let alone for a photographer who is there to take “empowering” pictures of me and my friends.

“Designed to empower women, these photos are taken for many reasons, including bonding and having fun with friends and [gaining] the obvious element of strength and safety in numbers.”

Yeah. Because nothing says empowerment like casually sitting around without my top on while a guy takes photos of me hugging my sister! Also, I’m pretty sure we’re bonded. We’re good. Keep your clothes on.

But regardless of all of that, perhaps we’re missing the biggest detail of them all, which is:


Because I have to be honest with you. I’ve never sat around wishing that the clothed photos of my friends and me at a club were actually of us wearing matching underwear bottoms and hugging each other from behind. So perhaps they’re meant for your future husband? I mean, perhaps if it wasn’t a photo of me, his sister, and my sister, it may have been one of CB’s passing thoughts. But I’m pretty sure he doesn’t need to ever actually see that outside of his mind.  

Or have it framed above our couch to share with company.

So basically I’m hoping that this is a trend that will fade fast, because I have a few friends who have yet to get married and I’m really in no shape to be in anything but soft lighting from here on out, you guys.

But am I alone here? Or have we all gone ‘round the bend?