The Art you Never Meant to Perfect

I am not proud to admit that after 10+ years of partying have perfected the art of spiraling out of control. One would think I may have achieved this in college, specifically during the 6 months I spent studying partying in Australia. No, I am going to be 27 in two months, what do I have to show for this? I have a bunch of hazy memories and assorted skills, I know how to order drinks and shots at the bar, which cheap chardonnay tastes the least cheap, how to hit a bong and how to finish a bag of blow… What the hell did I do this weekend. I’m constantly in a dazed state of hangover induced anxiety and misery. I swear I can feel my body rejecting my organs every Monday and or Tuesday. Side note, should I go to Tia’s to celebrate Cinco De Mayo tonight?

How does one reach this state? It’s hard to say. It starts with having a crazy night every so often, then you realize Figawi 2014 is in two weeks away and you basically haven’t sobered up since Figawi 2013. Fuck. There is always an event (also know as an excuse) to have a chill day celebrating whatever (spending $100s at the bar), next thing you know its Sunday morning and you need brunch, which naturally leads to a full day of boozing. When I retreat home to escape the city life of bingeing, I find myself sitting at the beach catching up with old friends and of course, drinking heavily. In the chance I am home and it’s not the summer I flee to a local bar, after a day spent walking and playing with my dog of course.

Is it possible to stop the cycle? I’m trying to be honest with myself and I think the answer is no. Not that I need to be whisked away to Passages Malibu, but I wouldn’t hate it. I wonder how many statement dress’ could I have purchased in place of my Storyville bar tab from Saturday night? How many Pilates classes is this multi day hangover going to set me back? Did I smoke 5 packs of cigarettes last week? OK, I’m quitting. At this point there’s one thing I’m not asking myself, and that is “why am I still single?” I have the sense to realize the writing is on the wall for this one. What do you do, when you realize you’ve perfected the art of spiraling out of control, and how do you begin the journey back up the loooonng long staircase? It’s almost summer, maybe I will revisit in the fall. Is a personal goal of sobering up by Figawi 2015 reasonable? I’ll let you know.

 

 

Husband Hunting on Vacation: Part 1

Obviously, it is unlikely I’m going to meet a long term husband while on vacation. This being said, if the opportunity for a few make-outs (on the dance floor or chairlift) presents itself I’m all in. I’m going to be working on two experiments and evaluating the responses in the follow up post next week.

Experiment A.
The Liftopia blog posted this article on valentines day, I was busy drinking Chardonnay and watching Safe Haven, now that I am on a ski trip I’m going to select my favorite pick up lines and test them out.
Original article: http://www.liftopia.com/blog/chairlift-pick-up-lines/

Experiment B.
This one is called how to lose a dud. When I need to detach from a clinger, my usual line is “see you never”, I like to follow this up with a hair flip, and walk away. Now this can come off as a joke and sometimes it even makes the hus with no potential want to hangout more. As part of experiment B, I’m going to attempt to scare the hus away by asking “do you want to be my husband?” I’ll report back, especially if this blows up in my face.

Don’t wait around for my save the date, but do check back in next week for the follow up post.

Perfecting The art of Overcoming Demons

“It’s all in my head, it’s all in my head….”
“OMG when did I make these phone calls”

“WHY was I texting with (insert back burner bro name here)” *this can actually be funny in some cases, say you have no recollection of starting a group chat with long lost friends from abroad because you HAD to tell them all about that thing that was soooo funny at the bar last night and totally reminded you of that time in Barcelona*

So finally, you stagger out of bed, immediately stumble upon the evidence, you inhaled Bolvas last night. Your roommate walks in the door from a run and the paranoia slaps you across the face.

Last night, you were probably throwing your red BOA debit card around like a black AMEX. Right now, you’re paying for it — literally. Demons are going to tear through your day like a hurricane racing through a coastal town. Everyone is out to get you. You fixate on negative things and are on a downward spiral. Demons are emptying you.

MOVE FORWARD. DO NOT FUEL THE DEMONS. Don’t sit around and dwell on the negative or feel sorry. Don’t focus your energy on what’s already occurred already or aspects beyond your control. Response to last nights events is much more important.

Demons hate positivity, so focus your attention on fun things that happened last night. “Omg we totally killed it in karaoke.” “We looked so chic drinking those espresso martinis!” “A potential hus complimented my shoes, not a surprise though, they did look awesome.” “We look so pretty in these pictures and I haven’t even put a filter on them yet.”

Make brunch plans go hang out with your funniest FGLs and laugh all day, plan some Pilates classes for the week, and talk about the fab things you have going on next weekend. Don’t forget to casually drop in lines to redeem yourself: “soo glad I stuck to beer last night! I remember everything.” Disclaimer: bunch can backfire by providing fuel for tomorrow’s demons- 10/10 times we do it anyway.

If brunching isn’t an option have a day of relaxing. Time to think of your happy place…. Hello Nantucket, you might be the last best place in the world. Netflix. My personal go-to’s include: Breakfast at Tiffany’s, Safe Haven, Out Cold. Avoid anything that is scary, has a depressing ending and all movies about a sad woman with a failed relationship. Snuggle into bed with some take out (Monica’s steak tip salad with caprese fix ins please). Drink lots of ice cold San Pellegrino.

Soon enough you will be congratulating yourself on overcoming the challenges of the day. Now, if only we could hire a ghost buster like demon extinguisher to get ride of them, for now this comes in the form of a pill, and it’s called Xanax.

Perfecting the Art of Being single

Every time I log into the gram and see a pic sitch of a “happy couple” getting engaged various thoughts race through my mind. I feel resentful that another friend has beaten the dating system. Continue scrolling, and oh look another not teen mom.

Well my fellow singles, I have some good news for you: it’s our time to shine. Christmas, New Years, fucking valentines day they’ve all passed. What do we have to look forward to: April 20, figawi, 4th of July and much, more! We will have ample opportunity to flaunt our platies 6 packs and statement outfits. Time to get serious my fellow hunters, it is the time to perfect yourself for the bountiful opportunities that lay ahead. Go shopping, and work out extra hard. It’s not a bad idea to exchange one meal a day for ice (just kidding try a smoothie, I’m not encouraging anorexia). But remember, stay chill no need to post about your work outs on social media every day or flaunt photos of the single grain of brown rice you ate for dinner on the gram. Desperation is a bad color on everyone.

And as a final note to all of you “happily” engaged at 26… we know you cheated on your fiancé the whole time we were abroad. To hold and to have. Sorry I’m not sorry.

The Art of making it Through a Monday After Sunday Funday

Sunday Funday starts with Brunch. Get out of bed and put on a statement outfit head to chosen destination and get the day rolling. Things start escalating at different levels.

After consuming a wide range of alcoholic beverages … cider beer (pairs excellent with the hangover), vodka grapefruits (splash of cran), mimosas (obligatory),  sangria (why the hell not), shots of DRs (your feeling ill after all), coffee (+ baileys and whiskey obviously), a few beers, and finally chardonnay (nothing like ending the day with 1-5 glasses of chard, am i right?) some how, it’s 7AM and your alarm is going off, wait, no, that’s not your alarm, who’s phone is this? Oh, you found a Sunday Husband! No time to think, no time to ask questions this is where you need to step into go mode, you’re late and on a mission: 1. get coffee 2. get to work. I like to approach this utter confusion by taking a quick shower and throwing on something extra professional. Looking put together gives me the confidence I need to face the day. My coworkers will never know I spent 8 hours sitting on various Southie bar stools yesterday, while I am spending 8 agonizing hours sitting in my office chair convulsing and simultaneously texting/snapchatting my friends about it. Today isn’t going to be productive. Make a list, what NEEDS to be done. Do it. Get lunch, come back to work, and read various blogs for the afternoon. Sounds simple, it’s not. The work place is going to seem like a battle field, spoiler: you aren’t winning! Your boss is going to want a 1:1 meeting, oh great. Earlier today I almost fell  asleep in a meeting with my boss and he asked if I was OK, and suggested I have a coffee… at the end of the meeting he actually said “I will go buy you a coffee”. So I’m sleeping in my bosses office, But I have on a really nice j.crew pencil skirt, my theory is out the window, the outfit isn’t actually helping. The day will have ups and downs, mostly downs. 2:00 PM, oh three hours left, I can make it! 2:10 PM, two hours and 50 minutes left, I’m nevverrrrr going to make it. 2:11 PM my head is so heavy I must rest it on my desk.

Eventually, the moment you thought would never arrive, arrives.  IT’S 5:00 PM.

I can feel soft flannel of my LLBean pillowcase against my cheek and my down comforter wrapped around me, providing the perfect amount of warmth. How fast can I walk that mile home? I feel so weak. Somehow, I will muster up the energy, motivated by the thought of taking the god damn skirt off, climbing into bed and embarking on a Netflix binge!

Congratulations, you made it… 4 days until the weekend!

The art of successful one night stand.

It happens. Breath. We’re alive and were on your team. So what happened last night?

Did you do it? Did the casual attraction you have been feeling finally emulate to the love you have dreamed of? It’s OK- because you probably looked hot as shit when he asked you to come back last night. No regrets you’re mascara and A game were on.

You’re worried you ruined a friendship. If you’re wondering so is he. I’m confirming for you, he wanted it. So be cool and shut the fuck up.

Next step is to play down the entire situation and get an alibi to cover your ass for your friends. “Last night was so fun I love when I stick to just beer because I remember the whole night” or even “OMG Tonyah was so wasted last night it was embarrassing.” This makes you look great and no one will suspect the poor life decision.

just remember deny, deny, deny at all costs.

Burnt

Saturday afternoon, 4pm, STATS in Southie….

Ruby arrives, we have a few drinks, and decide it’s a good idea to talk to about 4 different groups of guys… none of them want anything to do with us. We smoke a cig along the side of the bar, so no one “sees us” smoking.  At this point a few hours have passed and I’m now drinking heavily…. I think a guy in a Star Wars t-shirt was hitting on us. The night was over at this point. I take a cab home, as I do not live in Southie, get dropped off a few blocks before my house since I was low on cash… I start smoking another cig and talk to a  homeless girl for a few minutes, I gave her a snack that I had in my purse from work on Friday and then walked the rest of the way home. This is a good opportunity to explore what went wrong this night….

I think I had pizza in the cab over to STATS and had been drinking chardonnay with friends that afternoon- this being said, my judgement was most likely “a little” impaired.

The conversations with “said hotties” were probably things only me and Ruby found funny at the time… aka high chance we were acting like drunk assholes.

I don’t want to be too harsh on myself and I do learn from my mistakes so I will stop at that. I’m open to any outside commentary, so please do share…

Chapter One: Introduction to Husband Hunting

I guess start with some general background information….. 20something who is now closer to 30…

I have recently joined my single friend in what we like to refer to as “Husband Hunting”. Previously I was living in a one bedroom apartment with my boyfriend. Then, for a few heavenly months, I was living in the same one bedroom apartment with my xboyfriend (That’s the same person for you fucking idiots that couldn’t figure it out). “Husband Hunting” if you will, is essentially delusional dating, a way to make light of the fact that most of my efforts to flirt or engage with the opposite sex all end the same way… crash, burn, and cinder.

This reality struck me one Saturday afternoon at STATS, sorry I’m not sorry.

I am neutral to the idea of being single, but my friends don’t think it will last. Personally, I think it’s more likely that I just joined the single for life club. Only time will tell as I live the warped deranged life of a twenty something trying to date.

 

Disclaimer: I have no experience blogging, minimal experience dating, and like I mentioned it’s very likely I am so damaged that I am going to remain single for life.

Next subject. Sunday demons . What keeps us all awake on Sunday nights wondering if satan is going to remove our souls in our sleep because the bender we just went on and sins we committed make us not worthy enough to be a human on earth. That is where the puppy boyfriend comes in. Someone who can sleep next to you to keep the satanic clan from relinquishing your soul. The puppy boyfriend isn’t a potential husband, he’s a figuasie. A fake. A fraud.