My Deep Dark Secret

I have a confession to make.

I want to be a hipster.

Yes, that's right. I want to be one of these:

N

No, I don't know where this image came from but I <3 it. 

I know I come off as a sort of nerdy/preppy girl, but I like to thing this is sort of because I wear glasses (if I were a real hipster, I would wear glasses ironically).

It started last year with a slight obsession. I wanted a "warm-weather scarf" - the breezy non, knitwear version of a winter scarf, perhaps with a funky pattern or in plaid.

I finally found the perfect one (it's blue with a blue and black plaid over it) and bought it.

Next, when I got my hair cut, I added bangs. What goes well with a fun, funky banged haircut? Headbands of course. The best would be the kind with bows or flowers or feathers on them. Got those too.

As the winter months began approaching I discovered footless tights. I said I bought them for wearing under jeans when it was cold out, but that never happened. I would, as this picture above demonstrates, wear them with my jean skirts or short dresses.

This past fall I purchased an argyle sweater vest and eyed some chunky black bangles.

I colored my hair a great shade of red.

Deep down, I am a Hipster.

Purple Footless Tights

I don't want you to get me wrong, I don't rock skinny jeans, lip rings, big wide belts or anything that could be misconstrued as being "worn ironically." I just want to be in to indie music, work my footless tights/leggings, rock a headband and scarf, and just pretend I'm cooler than you.

I mean, I don't buy in to all of the "hipster stuff" but I definitely think there's something to be said for the style choices of some hipsters.

But in the end, I too will make fun of hipsters. For some of the greatest "aren't hipsters funny" sites, you can check out:

Look at this F-ing Hipster (language)
Hipster Puppies (cute puppies! as hipsters!)
Unhappy Hipsters (life is so sad!)

Just when we thought it could only get worse...

...it got better.

Ok, so this is a nice little follow up to the last entry that Diana and I posted - the one with all the bad date stories. I know it's a little premature (and in fact, I am most likely jinxing this entire thing), but I am going to post here the details of the date I had last night. The paranoid part of me is worried that a) he'll find this blog and be weirded out (or annoyed or insulted!) that I am posting the details of amazingness or b) I'll be so excited and post this and then he'll never call me back ever again. Or even c) he'll find this blog and be so creeped out that I am as infatuated as I am that it'll creep him out and he'll never call me again. (He knows I have a blog and I mentioned the name, but what are the chances of him searching for it?)

I call this story The Tale of the 16 Hour Date. Why? Cause, well, the date lasted 16 hours. Yes. Six. Teen. Hours.

So here it is:

We met online. He popped up as a match for me one day (91% compatibility, what what?) so I emailed him. I don't normally do that or at least if I do the guy doesn't respond. We only exchanged a handful of emails before he asked to meet me in person. I immediately said yes, though I had low expectations, especially after the duds I've gone out with recently.

We'll call him A, for the sake of his reputation.

We decided to meet for drinks yesterday afternoon at Deep Ellum, a local bar that I had been to once. We agree to meet at 3, and when I arrive he is already there, with a nice table and water for me. He helps me pick out a terribly expensive (and delicious) cocktail and we decide to split some malt vinegar fries (yum) and a beet & cherve terrine (YUM). It's amazing.

We talk and talk and talk and joke and have a great time. Suddenly it's 6pm. We've been there for three hours. It just flew by.

We agree that it's time to leave (especially cause our waitress was already off shift and the bartenders were nicely refilling out water glasses) and he timidly offers to invite me over for a drink on his porch. He says that he doesn't want to seem forward, but that he doesn't really want to end the date. I don't either, so I say yes.

We settle into some chairs on his porch, with glasses of honey whiskey, something I wouldn't normally go for, but that he insisted I try. It's delicious. He puts some vocal jazz on (like Ella and Billie Holiday and Louis Armstrong) and we just talk. And talk. About everything and anything.

Now normally I am weird about time. I like to know what time it is at all times (although I don't wear a watch, strangely) but last night, I find myself not caring. When we do check the time it is somehow 8:30. We've been on this date for 5 1/2 hours, and not a second has been boring.

I'm hungry at this point, so he offers to make me something to eat, since he loves to cook (and he's good at it!). We putz around his kitchen for a while, snacking on random vegetables and trying different amazing cheeses he got the other day. We drink cava because he had a random bottle of it in the fridge, and when he said he had never drank champagne for no reason I told him that we should do it, because that's the best way.

Eventually he decides to experiment with some pasta dish - zucchini, red peppers, garlic, basil, sage, truffle oil, fennel, and tomatoes. It's incredible. And watching him prepare it is fascinating, because he really knows what he's doing.

We indulge in some port after we eat (cause why not?), and talk more. I look at the clock and am surprised to see that it's already 11:30. I still don't want to leave (and he doesn't want me to leave).

We finish our port and he looks at me and asks if I dance. Then, in the corniest fashion ever (which of course, won me over) he pulls me up from the table and we dance in the kitchen, to Ella Fitzgerald. And then, nine hours into our date (well, right before midnight), he finally kisses me.

And it's sweet. And awesome.

We don't move for a while, just kinda swaying and laughing and talking in the kitchen. It gets very late and he offers to let me sleep there and he will drive me home in the morning. It is all very innocent and perfect and gentleman like. So I sleep there and he drives me home early enough that it's like I woke up in my own room. Sixteen hours after we first met.

He is funny and sarcastic and sweet. Smart, interesting, and eclectic. We both admitted that we felt ridiculously natural and comfortable - and how strange that was since we really just met.

So, even though I am probably jinxing this, I wanted to remind us all that good dates DO happen.

And when they do, it's pretty sweet.

Bad (So Bad They're Funny) Dates

This is our first attempt at a co-authored post on our blog. For reference, anything written by Diana is in blue, and Emily has written in purple. Stories are just left in black.

Today at work I (Diana) logged on to Twitter and saw a conversation happening between Emily and a mutual friend from college. They were sharing "war stories" about some of the dates that they've been on, and I found myself laughing out loud at some of the ridiculousness of people out there in the dating game.

So Emily and I have decided to poll some of the people we know for some of their best/worst bad date stories.

All names have been changed to protect the "victims" and "perpetrators" of these dating disasters!

"Ok, so I was out on a date with this guy (maybe a second date?), and I thought it was going well. I made a joke. He looks at me completely seriously, and says 'Do you think you're funny? Because you're not...' I waited for him to laugh, like he was making a joke. He didn't laugh. He was COMPLETELY serious. I mean, what do you say to that? I said 'F--k you, I AM funny' and then after a few awkward moments, the date continued. I should have walked out! How can you be so rude?"

"I had known this guy, T, for a few years. We had an off and on again thing, nothing serious - just fun times together. We went to college in different states, and would hang out when we were both in the same town. Well, we're chatting online one night, being flirty back and forth, and out of nowhere he tells me that I'm just like candy corn: Me: What does that mean? T: Well, you know how candy corn is only around for part of the year around Halloween? Me: Yeah.... T: Well, when it's not around you have really great memories of how good it is. You almost start to crave it. Me: Ok... (at this point I think I'm flattered) T: But then when you have it, it's really good at first, and then the more you have of it, the less awesome it becomes. In fact, you have so much of it, it starts to make you sick and you don't want to have it again. Until you get some distance, and then you start to want it again? Me: ....

That was pretty much the end of that situation"

Much like dear Diana, I have been on my fair share of bad dates.(much like EVERYONE!) Hell, I once went on a bad romantic getaway (a story for another time). I've been dating since I was about 12, and I am extremely talented at dating the wrong guy. This conversation between Diana and I started when I tweeted about a recent date I had with a fella I refer to as "The Russian" (this is because he is from Russia).

The Russian was cute, and we had talked on the phone prior to the date and save hardly being able to get a word in (he was very talkative) I thought we had good potential for an excellent first date. Well, apparently we didn't. He didn't seem terribly talkative when he arrived. After we sat down, he reminded me that he was a new vegetarian and I could instantly tell that he wouldn't appreciate me eating meat. Right. There was seriously only about 4 non-meat meals on this menu. (I went with grilled cheese). He finally got talking, but the subjects were terribly serious and weighty for a first date. When I asked why he gave up meat, he launched in a diatribe about how wrong it is to kill animals. Ok, I can totally dig that. But then he started bombarding me with questions about why I are meat? Why? Because I find it delicious. Do I feel guilty about killing cows? No, that's why we raise them (sorry to any vegetarians out there). I am normally ok with defending my meat lovin' ways, but he was persistent, and tried very hard to make me hate meat. Then we started talking about religion (he's an atheist raised Jewish). Yeah, THAT was fun. Then he started a discussion about why I wasn't special. You read that right - I was not special. Me. In particular. I actually thought he was joking. He kept saying "It's not like your Einstein..." At the end of the meal he revealed that he left his credit card in his car, and though he did go get it (and I sat there thinking I was being stiffed with the bill), I new that that was a little suspicious. When we left the restaurant, he actually argued with me about how I should get home (seriously dude, I know where I live). So... needless to say, there was not a second date.

Some responses to my facebook post about looking for bad date stories:

"Jesse had been asking me out for several weeks now and finally I said yes. I got a babysitter for my daughter who was about 3 at the time. Jesse went all out for the first date. He was on my doorstep at exactly 7pm. When I opened the door he had flowers for me and a toy for my daughter. Kinda weird but was a nice thought. He brought me to the Melting Pot. After dinner we were heading back to the car. Jesse ended up puking all over the hood of the car. It was gross. He apologized and then got into the car where he puked again. I ended up getting splashed with vomit cause it bounced off the dashboard. I asked if he was ok and he said yes and he apologized again. I said it was no biggie and then told him I would prefer to take a cab home. Jesse gave me some cash for the cab ride and we parted ways."

AND

"At a friend's wedding one of her new husband's friends, Mike, wanted my number so he gave it to him. Mike called and we spoke several time. He seemed nice so I agreed to go out for drinks. Mike picked me up. After I got into the car, Mike leaned over and said 'This is the date rape car since the passenger side door handle is broken and you cant get out'. Holy crap! Who had my friend and her husband set me up with?! The date went down hill from there. Nothing happened, apparently Mike was nervous and he is known to say some stupid things but seriously! Calling you car a "date rape car" is not a good idea!"

A winning clip from another experience of mine:

First date with Chris (senior year of college): He showed up at my apartment 30 mins late. I asked if I should eat something before we go to the movie, or if we were getting dinner. He said "Oh, we'll get dinner first." So I didn't eat. When we get close to the movie theater, we're low on time, so he asks if Taco Bell is ok. I said sure, even though I was hoping for a nice meal. He said, "well it's up to you, you're the only one eating." Excuse me? I thought I didn't eat cause you wanted to. So I grab some Taco Bell (omg at least it was good) and we head to the theater. At least he paid for my movie. After the movie he comes over to my apartment, and I decided that even though the night was eh, I'd invite him up. So we were kissing on my couch when he went for more. I said "no, not tonight," and he screams "MY SISTER WAS RAPED IN HIGH SCHOOL!" Then stomps off to the bathroom. When he came out he yelled some more about knowing that no means no and then left still screaming about rape. Two months later he was my barista at Starbucks. I IMed him later about why he didn't say hi. His response "What? Emily, you were just a bar in the music of my life." Craz-Zy.
OH! Guess who had ANOTHER bad date last night? This girl!!

He picked me up from work (nice!) and we ended up going to play Candle Pin bowling, since I had never been. We played three games, and I almost won twice. While sitting there chatting afterward, his phone rang twice. He picked up both times without an "excuse me" and had full and lengthy conversations. (And when the person on the other end obviously asked what he was doing he said "Nothing, just finished bowling" - NOTHING??) I figured that would be the end of the evening, because he was all talking, but then we got in the car and just started driving. He asked what I wanted to do, and since it was almost 8 and I hadn't eaten since noon, I said food. He wasn't that hungry, so he suggested just a snack... um ok? We ended up at this random Irish pub in Brighton/Lower Allston that we drove by and he thought he would check out for his ski club meetings. We ended up there for a few hours, I had three drinks, but he never suggested food. A good hour of the time he spent talking to the owner, but when we did talk we actually had a nice time. Then he drove me home. And I never had dinner.

One last story for the books:

"I had gone out with this guy a couple of times, and he was nice enough. We got along fairly well, and always had fun when we went out. At that point I was living about 20 minutes from him (he was still in school), and one weekend night he sends me a text message that he wants to hang out with me. It's late. He'd been at a Frat party. I could put together the puzzle pieces. Well, he tells me that he's going to come over, and I say "sure" - no big deal. He texts me that he's leaving his house, and he'll be there in about 20 minutes. The time passes, and it's now been about an hour. He's not at my place, and I assume that he decided not to come, so I get ready for bed. At about 1:30 AM I get a phone call from him. He's at the police station. Turns out he was a little intoxicated when he headed over to me, headed off the road, got stuck in a ditch, and when he tried to get out a cop came by to help him. The cop smelled alcohol on his breath so gave him a breathalyzer. He was right around the limit, so they towed his car to an impound lot and took him to the police station. He was calling to ask if I could come and pick him up. I do. He's stone sober at this point, but he still asks to come over. I find out in the morning that the reason he wanted to come to my place instead of taking him home was so that I could take him back to the impound lot in the morning to pick up his car. That was pretty much the last time I saw him, as the next time I spoke to him he blamed me for making him come over."

Update: This just in from a male reader:

"I don’t tend to talk about bad dates unless someone else brings up their bad date stories, but recently that happened. My most recent bad date (and by recent I mean 6 months ago) was with a girl I thought seemed pretty cool. We had somethings in common, yada, yada and then we were chatting and she said “so when are you going to ask me out?” ... I didn’t think much of it because maybe I was taking a long time to ask her out, but I didn’t think a week was THAT long. Anyways, we went out for sushi and while we were waiting for our food and such I noticed she started picking her nose. I didn’t say anything because maybe she had an itch. But after she kept doing it and doing it I was like this is 1. disgusting 2. such a turn off! It was one pick after another pick onto the next pick! I’m like (to myself) “Is there anything else up there to pick?”. I don’t really remember if it was an actually good date because this is all that I remembered, this girl picking her nose for an hour!

My next story was years ago when I first joined JDate... I’ve learned a LOT since then. We met up at a bar in Brighton to get drinks. Had drinks, had a conversation but all I could pay attention to was her ugly mole on her face. I know you’re suppose to pay attention to the girls eyes but I couldn't. My eyes kept wondering to this mole on her face. It was horrible. Disgusting. You mean the bad word, that was it! So after having a horrible time that lasted 60 minutes, she asked the waitress for a hot coffee... who gets a coffee when you just had an alcoholic drink? So she got coffee which meant I was going to star at this awful mole for another 15 minutes!!! I was in pure hell.

Some online dating advice. Don’t go out with everyone you speak with. If you connect right away online, there is usually a chance it might be a good and/or decent first date... of course no guarantee... sorry! I don’t know what non-Jewish dating is like, but the Jewish community is actually pretty small. If you’re JDate, the chances you see JDaters around town are VERY HIGH."

Like, Ha Ha Funny?

You know what I love?

Funny people. And funny blogs. And funny people who write funny blogs.

It's true, I do enjoy the mom blogs that are less funny and more sentimental, and also the fashion blogs that require few words but a good camera. But nothing moves my morning (or hell, day) along like a good laugh.

Last night my friend Jess Mann and I were sitting in the train station bar (who knew these existed?) drinking some wine while we waited for her train and discussing what blogs we read. Surprisingly, we didn't have any overlapping blogs. Considering that we have the same sense of humor and appreciation for humorous writing, this was definitely something we needed to fix. When we made it homes to our respective residents, we exchanged emails with long lists of those bloggers we thought were worth passing on. (Editor's note: just because your blog may not be listed below, it doesn't mean you were not passed on.)

I sent her the likes of The Bloggess, Jen Lancaster, and Kelly Oxford. She sent back Barefoot Foodie, who may just be one of the funniest women I've ever read. However, what I noticed about the four of these blogs is that all four are women (surprise, surprise) but that they also have similar senses of humor and almost identical voices (esp The Bloggess and Barefoot Foodie). It explained a whole lot about why Jess and I get along.

I have spent the better part of my free time today (I take little breaks every hour to break up the monotony) catching up on Barefoot Foodie, and I am absolutely loving it.


I also enjoy statements taken out of context, like this one that I just send my co-worker Holly:

Me: are you doing better with Jose Saramago now that he died?

or this one:

BfF: the last thing I want for Christmas is a geyser shooting out of my vagina.

I don't know why, but it's the littlest things that make me the happiest.

Thank you, Sweeden!

Wow. We fail at blogging.

Sorry.

I know that you have been waiting with baited breath for Emily and/or I to update our blog with our thoughts, hopes, and dreams. It shouldn't have taken this long, but alas... it has.

So here's my first entry in far too long.

Ikea.

The mecca for the modern 20-something year old person with its cheap prices, cool Swedish accessories, and modern do-it-yourself (sorta) design, Ikea has become our generation's This End Up  (I think we all had or knew someone who had this furniture in their rec room growing up and then saw it again as dorm furniture in college). I dare you to meet someone who lives in or around a fairly busy metropolis who does not own at least one piece of Ikea furniture. It's affordable, easy to put together, and you can pretty much find something for everyone.

Growing up, I remember the closest Ikea was at least an hour away, but it was near Potomac Mills so we would stop in when shopping at the outlets. In college, my friend Carolyn convinced two guys she knew (one had a van) to drive to the closest Ikea (in NEWARK, NJ) so that she could get a (admittedly perfect for her) purple couch.



Living in Alabama for two years was the furthest I'd ever been from an Ikea, until they put one in Atlanta.
People who aren't used to the sheer wonder of the store just don't understand how awesome it is.

Now, Ikea is less than 25 minutes from me and at least once or twice a year my friends and I make the trip. No one walks away empty handed. It doesn't matter if you didn't come for anything, you will likely walk away with either some artwork or an amazing kitchen accessory (it's only $3, of course you can afford that milk frother).

We'll head out first thing in the morning and grab breakfast (a full breakfast for less than $3, yes please!)

Gone are the days when Ikea furniture was merely pressboard lightweight crap. Now some of that stuff is actually wood and it is HEAVY (imagine two girls trying to load four large boxes longer than we are tall in to an SUV. It was tricky, but we did it.). It looks great and really can make a house look like a home.

Now that I'm moving in to my very first home (yes, I FINALLY found out that I've got the house and I close on FRIDAY!! but more on that later), I am already browsing for furniture and one of the first places I looked was Ikea.

I want this for my TV stand (rotated 90 degrees). 

 

I've already got a few older pieces of Ikea furniture in my apartment (a dresser, a couple of floor lamps, a desk), but I am all about upgrading to stuff that doesn't look like it came out of a dorm room (or grad student apartment).

My boyfriend and I have plans to go to Ikea after we close on our house, and hopefully he will talk me out of buying some of the rediculous stuff that I want like this amazing lamp:

It's huge and amazing and this picture doesn't do it justice.

I will end up also buying some "real" furniture, but for now, Ikea suits me just fine.

I'll also probably pick up some things in their "home decor" section like rugs, artwork, and lots of kitchen gadgets. I really love kitchen gadgets.

Well, what about you? What's your favorite peice of Ikea furniture? What would you do if you were unable to get to an Ikea?

Sidebar

Phew. Emily and I have both been slackers as of late with this pet project of ours. It happens.

As they say: "life is what happens when you're busy making other plans," (and no, I don't know who "they" are).

No truer words have ever been spoken.

Ok, I admit it, our last two posts were a bit more serious than some of our other posts, but that's fine. We're real people, and it's only natural that we'd want to write about what is going on in our lives.

My goal here in the next few weeks is to try to blog a little more because I know, come June, my job will keep me incredibly busy.

But you tell us. What do you want to see us talk about? Do you mind the more serious entries? Do you want us to interview you (because would totally do that if we found the right person/people)?

On Being a "Grown-Up"

I turned twenty eight in October.

Now, twenty eight may be an anti-climactic age, but this time in my life... I'm starting to feel like I'm actually a real adult. I'm not sure if I like it, but I've accepted it.

I've been younger than my peers for a long time, and it always made me feel like a kid trying her hand at being an adult. In grad school almost all of my classmates were older than me, and I still felt stuck in that college mode of having a good time and looking out for number one (it's a symptom of my generation... we're all narcissists). The thing is, even though I was having a good time, I worked hard. I am proud to say that I earned my MFA (a terminal degree in my field) before I was 25 years old, moved in to a position that was created for me and then transitioned in to what was, at the time, my dream job. I was barely a year or two older than people who, in some senses, worked for me. My first intern, in fact, was actually four months OLDER than me!

 Denny Chimes at University of Alabama, 

where I earned my MFA.

Then, last May, I was let go from that job, and I was heart broken. It was the sort of job that left me working nearly 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. When I wasn't actually at work, I could get phone calls or be THINKING about work. At the end of my time with that company I was looking for a new job, and I wanted nothing more than to leave, but my deep love for the people and the organization kept me tied there far longer than I needed to be. Though every once in a while memories tug at my heart strings, I have no ill feelings and still think about that company and wish them well

It's been an interesting (almost) year, to say the least. Since being let go I was able to, for the first time in nearly five years, relax. I actually took a vacation in Atlantic City with my family and got to see some friends in New York. I spent time really thinking about what I wanted to do with my life and if I really wanted to stay in the low-paying long-hours world of non-profit arts organizations (the answer - an unequivocal yes).

I applied for jobs across the DC/Baltimore metropolitan area and in New Jersey, Texas, New York, Pennsylvania, and beyond and ended up working in my own backyard in a position that is giving me some of the best hands-on experience I could ever ask for as an young arts administrator. I will leave this job (years from now) with a whole new knowledge base that I never had before.

So, I've been at my current job for more than six months, and though I'm still learning, I'm really enjoying it.
I've also learned that at the end of the day, it's ok to just walk away.

You know what else makes me feel like a grown-up?

I have roots.

I've been a Girl Scout Leader for the last three  years, but have really invested my heart and soul in to it this year.

I've joined the Young Professionals Network of Howard County - part of the local Chamber of Commerce. I also applied to be part of their "steering team" and after an interview process, I just found out that I got the position.

I attended my ten year high school reunion back in November, and I'm trying to reconnect with old friends as best I can. I finally got to have dinner with a bunch of people I hadn't seen in YEARS and it was awesome. 

I've made time for a social life and have a great group of friends that seem to find me really funny (who knew?).

I've developed a love for baking (how domestic of me!)

And, the craziest thing? I made an offer on a townhouse. I could actually be buying a home in the next month or so... just waiting on word from the bank to find out if they'll approve the sale and Keith and I could be moving in as little as 30 days from when everything is final.

 This could be my new house!

Almost 11 months after being let go from what I thought was my dream job, and I have found myself in a place in life that I never expected.

And you know what? It feels pretty good.