Welcome to my life.

Since moving back to Texas several months ago I have found it increasingly difficult to find inspiration for new material. I mean I don’t live in an exciting city, there aren’t any (and I mean any) dateable men here and my job pretty much sucks. So what is a witty writer to do when she is fresh out of material? Look at her own life of course!

I wholeheartedly believe that truth is stranger than fiction. Case in point, my life: I am a single 24 year old woman living in Texas. Honestly, I could stop right there because that statement in and of itself is hilarious. To be single in Texas is a fate worse than death. To be single in Texas at 24 comes with the unique stigma of being a lost cause, a spinster who will die alone. Now seems like the appropriate time to add that I will be acting as Maid of Honor in a great friend’s wedding next weekend. Yep, that’s right, maid of HONOR. A girl who writes a blog called Witty Bitch, will be the personification of honor in T minus six days.

So ok, relationship status aside, I come from a family that is so mixed up and crazy Ryan Seacrest wishes he had the rights to a reality show to replace the so-over-it-right-now Keeping Up With the Kardashians. There is me and my younger brother whom an hour ago my best friend reminded me is “so f*cking hot”. He is newly in the Navy, newly back on dry land, and newly single in San Diego. Then there are my parents who honestly deserve their own show. My mother (appropriately named Teresa) is perhaps the greatest mother of all time. And not just to me, like everyone else adopts her as their own mother. She and my dad got married when I was six. This is the point in the conversation where I explain the “mixing up” of my family. So ok, I’m brown. Like Obama brown. My biological father was black and my mom is white, their relationship ended when I was very young and then my mother met the man who is now my dad. This man is the whitest man on the planet. Like New England white. He and my mom got married and then in the 3rd grade we went to a courthouse in California, talked to a judge about how he built me a dollhouse and my brother a train set while my mom was working the night shift at the hospital as a nurse and that we would really liked him as our dad. Next thing you know, my last name is now different and he is “officially” our new dad (although he was pretty much daddy to me right from the beginning).

He and my mother are absolutely hilarious together. He the sarcastic, witty, intelligent man from New England and my mother the fun-loving, silly, class skipping drill team alum from Southern California. If only there were cameras present to capture the homemade Facebook photo shoot in the backyard. “Honey, you need a new profile picture.” Brilliant. Anywho, daddy got a big promotion so he and mom packed up and moved to the DC suburbs where he will continue to work for the government doing a job that I don’t fully understand (I not so secretly think he is in the CIA, if a black van with no windows rolls into my driveway in the morning, we all know why) and my mom will continue her job as “professional wife” (she actually lists this as her profession on Facebook) cooking, cleaning, shopping and scoping out vacation homes. Lucky for me, they have kept their house in Texas and I am not gonna be homeless. It is kinda awesome living at your parents house for free, but living at your parents house for free without your parents is AWESOME!

But…real life is a little bit different. It wouldn’t be my life without a hilarious twist: you see my Irish grandmother, Grams, lived in my parents house too. So although mom and dad left, me and Grams stayed. For most people being roommates with your grandmother may sound less than thrilling. Well, that’s because your grandmother probably doesn’t drink bloody Mary’s (and ironically enough, her name is Mary—you can’t make this shit up!) before noon and wine in a box after. Grams is a glorious cross between Cloris Leachman and that crazy little granny from Wedding Crashers. I love that woman. Sharing a home with her means home cooked meals on the regular and the familiar sound of her yelling at the television when the Cowboys can’t get their shit together. Plus, I know there is no judgement when she comes into the kitchen just as I am adding a little tequila to my lemonade. Instead its “ooh! making a drink? I know we’ve got a bunch of Kahlua and Bailey’s in there too if you want a little dessert.”

Welcome to my life.

Grams and Me

I have a bone to pick with your Facebook updates

Remember the days when you would hear about peoples lives through other people? “Hey! You know Karen is a buyer for Barney’s and just got engaged to that doctor she has been dating.” Somehow it was an easier pill to swallow since it was coming from a third party. There was no self-promotion.  No “look at me!’ parade. Nowadays with Facebook and Twitter, every accomplishment and life event is shared to the world directly from the source. And all that “I’m getting a promotion!’ “I’m engaged!” and “I’m going to Europe with my boyfriend!” becomes annoying as shit. I think it’s the “I” that is the catalyst in this annoying status update war. Enough with the self-congratulatory posts already.

I have a love-hate relationship with status updates. Part of me has an insatiable appetite for gossip and a need to know what is going on in other people’s lives. I like to see pictures from amazing vacations I can’t take and of groups of friends I am no longer part of due to physical or emotional distance. The other side of me gets annoyed, jealous, judgemental and often times confused–”What?! How can she be engaged and not me?!” Perhaps it is just a simple case of TMI. While is it awesome to use social networking sites as a great way to keep in touch without having to actually put forth the true effort to sustain friendships for years on end, do we really need to post updates like a news ticker on CNN?

No one cares that baby Connor just pooped in the big boy potty for the first time. No one needs to know you just started your period. And no one wants to hear every little detail of your life. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m guilty of the excessive status update, but I write a blog, ok? It is part of my job to self-promote. Besides, my updates are awesome.

BRB

When I read books I think, “I wanna do that”. And I am not speaking in reference to the subject matter of the book, I am talking specifically about the act of writing. When I read a great book I am inspired to write a great book. When I read a well written article I am inspired to write a great article. Point is, I am a writer at heart.

I have missed writing here on my little blog but I shall return my loves from this little hiatus called life. I know you have probably been worried about me and missing my witty and charming commentary on life. Fear not dear reader for I also have been worried about you. Hell, I got out of bed at 2:30 AM to say BRB. It’s like the blogosphere equivalent to a guy waiting over a week to call you back after a date. Actually, it’s more like the internet version of sending an old friend a text message about how the two of you should have a great phone call in the near future and catch up. So what do you say friends, blog date soon? Awesome, can’t wait.

 

PS: I love you.

My friends are better than your friends.

It is often said that great minds think alike. It is also common knowledge that cool, talented and all around amazing people hang out together. Case in point my friend, and incredibly talented singer songwriter, Veronica Lee Estes singing from her Brooklyn apartment. Not only is this girl beautiful and talented, but she let me crash on her couch and made me breakfast when I had no place else to go in NYC– and I had only met her once before!–not counting a run in outside a GAP dressing room in San Antonio, which is weird since neither one of us really shops at the GAP… I know it is no surprise that someone as funny, witty and talented as I would keep such good company but just in case you doubted how cool I actually am, now you can rest assure that I am cool at the very least by association. Anywho, check out her video here.

See: The September Issue

One of life’s little pleasures is going to movies alone. I like to punctuate my weekend with a lovely solo sunday evening movie. This time I took a break from my NY Fashion Week stalking to catch The September Issue, a documentary which takes us inside the makings of VOGUE’s biggest issue ever and gives us a rare glimpse at the wonder that is Anna Wintour.

I loved the movie, to me it was like fashion porn: NY Fashion Week, Paris Couture shows and designer cameos from Vera Wang, Oscar de la Renta and Thakoon. While I am a big fan of fashion and a lover of fashion mags, I was never really a VOGUE girl but after seeing this film, I have a newfound love and respect for the magazine (I even kind of appreciate its defiance and refusal to change its content during the recession—VOGUE is not accessible, it is aspirational!). I have always liked Anna Wintour and had a general respect for her as a business woman and I never really bought into the hype that she is an ice queen or uber bitch. The woman runs the most influential magazine in the game and one of the most influential magazines in the world, pardon her for not warming up to you by discussing the results of American Idol. I watched her on David Letterman and found her quite pleasant and with a sense of humor and The September Issue proves that she is multifaceted and very well respected by colleagues in the fashion world. Who else can make world renowned designers literally shake in their boots at the thought of presenting her their collections? That woman demands respect. I kind of want to be her.

I was particularly drawn to the genius creative director Grace Coddington who began working at VOGUE the same time as Anna Wintour. She is the creativity behind the beautiful fashion spreads. Her vision and ability to take an idea and implement it into a beautiful layout is like a maestro leading a symphony. It is Grace who turns what is just a picture of a girl in expensive and outlandish clothes, into a story. Her vision often clashed with Anna’s but you could see where each person had a valid point. Anna in one scene ditched a photo that Grace was particularly attached to (and it was absolutely stunning) but Anna didn’t feel that it was cohesive with the overall fashion spread (which I happened to also agree with).

Perhaps the most telling aspect of the film was the humanity behind Anna Wintour. Seeing her interact with her daughter Bee Schaffer (who is adamant about not going into her mother’s business) was refreshing. This is a woman who loves her daughter and not so secretly sees that she has an editorial eye and would love for her to follow in her footsteps. Bee is clearly a daughter who loves her mother but has carved out her own interests and identity.

Overall the movie was wonderful. It is a great inside view at an industry that is often criticized. No fashion is not rocket science, but it is a bit more than clothes: fashion is art. It is art, it is inspiration and it is creative expression at its finest. And it is fun! I mean yes some of the stuff coming down the runways and the stuff  in magazines is outlandish, but who cares? It is fun, it is like playing dress up…for grown ups.

It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia Season 5

One week.

OMFG I can hardly contain my excitement.

Listening to: Kate Nash

I am loving Kate Nash and have been ever since her songs first appeared on my Pandora radio channel. To call her a cross between Lily Allen and Sara Bareilles would be selling her short. Her debut album Made of Bricks came out two years ago and her single “Foundations” hit #2 on the charts in the UK. Her song “Nicest Thing” is perhaps the most realistic love song ever. It is like the lyrical version of 500 Days of Summer: beautiful in its simplicity and honesty. The lyrics are so innocent yet beautiful but when put together with the haunting musical composition, they give the song a unique depth. Here is a sample from my favorite verse:

 I wish you had a favorite beauty spot that you loved secretly,

Cause it was on a hidden bit that nobody else could see.

Basically, I wish that  you loved me.

I wish that you needed me.

I wish that you knew when I said two sugars, actually I meant three.

I am also totally loving this animated video of “Nicest Thing” on YouTube. Check it out:

“Merry Happy” and “Mouthwash” are other favorites. She is currently working on her second album so thankfully there is more of this lovely lady to come.

How to be a Bitch.

While talking with a friend from work the other day she shared with me her frustration with people she doesn’t really care for just inviting themselves into conversation with her. “How can I get them to realize that I really don’t care? I don’t want to talk to them!” I let her know that I don’t have that problem. You see, I was born with the unique talent to keep annoying people at bay by emitting a vibe of “stay away” with my bitchy facade.

“How do you do it?” my friend asked. I let her in on a couple of tips, “you could write a book about this,”  she said. While my blog is no book, I did have to agree with her on letting others in on my secrets. So if people who are not cool enough to be your friends have the strange idea that it is ok to talk to you, here are a few ways to remind them that life is just like high school and they are not one of the cool kids. While it is understood that you should always dress better than everyone else and walk around with a sense of entitlement that makes you generally unapproachable, sometimes people still won’t get the message. Ladies and gentlemen I give you: How to be a Bitch.

Avoid eye contact. When you want to invite someone into conversation you make eye contact; when you want to discourage interaction, you avoid eye contact. It is never too late to avoid eye contact. In fact, if eye contact is made with the bottom feeders of  social hierarchy, go ahead and avert your eyes. Don’t worry about doing it quickly either–you are far too important to be bothered with that sort of thing. Take as long as you want or need, it is your world, not theirs.

Avoid actually speaking to them. If said bottom feeders didn’t get the hint by your lack of eye contact and they decide to talk to you, you are under no obligation to actually speak to them. If they are telling a story, simply don’t respond. If you can’t help but respond, it is best to stick with monosyllabic utterances like “hmm” or “‘kay”. It is also a good idea to engage in another more important activity while they are speaking to you. I like to use this time to check out my manicure or read over some of my recent text messages. This coupled with the lack of eye contact should send the right message.

Have a signature scowl, aka: the bitchy face. I happen to have one of those faces where if I’m not smiling, I look like I’m pissed off. This usually helps to keep people away, if you don’t have this blessing or you are a generally smiley person, you need to develop a signature scowl. Think of something so tacky and beneath you, like acid wash jeans with Crocs, or a lower back tattoo that reads “Exit Only Do Not Enter”, that face that you make when you think of those things, is the perfect bitchy face. Sometimes words can’t say enough. Sometimes you just need a facial expression that says “Ew”. If you need a visual, check out any old episodes of The OC and check out Summer’s classic bitch face followed by a curt “Ew”. Priceless.

Good luck! With these quick and easy steps, you will give off an air of snobbery and solitify yourself as a bonafide bitch thus keeping those social climbing bottom feeders at bay. You’re welcome.

Party in the USA

In case you were wondering why I hadn’t posted anything last week, it was because I was too busy obsessing over this video. Seriously, I think in another life I was a fabulous gay man.

You’re welcome.

Back to School

Once we have left the world of GPAs, standardized test scores and final exams, how do we determine our successes from our failures? With no universal standard set in place, what becomes the barometer for progress? If I take a look at friends’ and former classmates Facebook status updates, I may come to the conclusion that because I am not A) Engaged B) Married or C) Starting a family, I have made at best a ‘C’ in my post graduate personal life.

My best friend once told me that you should never compare your life to anyone else’s because you will undoubtedly end up disappointed. While I certainly agree with her advice, if we don’t compare with one another, how do we determine whether or not we are on the right track? Does “the right track” even exist at this stage of life? Or is the right track just something we ride on early in life that will lead us to the station where we go off in our own directions? If I look back on life and the goals I set for myself, I can happily say that I have pretty much achieved every one of my major life goals that I had set out for myself. Lose my virginity? Check. Graduate college? Check. Live in New York City? Check. Dream job in a big city? Well, that is a work in progress. I wonder if school is like a microcosm for life: you have people that guide you along your way and give you a great deal of structure until you have grown enough to choose your own path. Think about it, if we had the choice in kindergarten to choose what we did all day long, it would have been a mess. But by the time we hit freshman year of college, we had a little bit more maturity and could choose what we did with our time more wisely (while still under the supervision of advisors and counselors). Our professors, advisors and RAs were there to help us along the way, easing us back on the right track if we started to fall off a little but come graduation, they all went away and we went off in our own directions. Some of us went to grad school, some went to grown up jobs and some of us went to this crazy Wonderland. However, no matter where we went, we all have one thing in common: we no longer have a structured map laying out what to do next nor do we have check points along the way telling us if we are heading in the right direction. For all intensive purposes, we are on our own.

I think that living without a concrete scale of what is right, wrong, good or bad is hard for us to comprehend and get used to. Our American culture has often feared anything out of the norm and even the phrase “alternative” often has a negative connotation. We have to decide for ourselves what we want out of life, how to get it and create our own scale for success. We have to learn what our own capabilities are and set our goals accordingly. Perhaps that is our barometer for success: the ability to achieve ones full potential, whatever that potential may be. Some of us have the potential to change the world in a big big way, others have the ability to make a great impact on a smaller scale (just being honest, not all of us are gonna be future presidents and CEOs, that is just life). Some of us are meant to be writers, some are meant to be lawyers, others are meant to be parents (and likewise, some are not meant to be parents). You have achieved success, I believe, when you have realized your personal potential and gone after it with all of your strength. Success, like life, is not the end result, it is the journey. Failure is not the absence of achievement, it is the lack of pursuit.

The comical similarity between actual report cards and life’s metaphorical report cards is that we all get a little nervous about showing the final grades to mom and dad. I guess some things never change.