A Friend for All Seasons

I'm fortunate enough to have a very large, very diverse group of ladyfrands stationed all over the country to assist in every freak out, humble brag and what-if scenario. These girls are all special in their own ways, which not only keeps things interesting but is also super handy when I need advice on something that Jennifer is too religious for but is right up Sasha's alley (no offense) (slut).

Everyone needs a friend for every conceivable life scenario. I've enlisted the help of my beebs and had them send me some of their favorite examples of convos with friends that they definitely could not have with anyone else. (Livin' with my bitches, #LIVE.)



 
 

The McFriend - This sweetheart would never, ever judge you for eating delicious snacks, especially when they're bacon-wrapped. She is crucial, because while the rest of your friends are trying juice cleanses and eating kale and cucumber salads, this faithful comrade will indulge every edible whim and snag some extra ketchup and/or honey mustard. She personifies the judgment-free zone, and will always be quick to blame your slight weight gain on water weight or your period, because it sure as hell wasn't your recent three-day-long Chipotle binge.

The Ex Sympathizer - Everyone has exes, and everyone has exes that won't go away. Some friends turn into feminists when you mention you and your ex were casually texting the other day and berate you for "going back to that pathetic piece of trash loser." Way harsh, Tai. This friend understands that shit happens, and that if you happen to wake up next to that piece of trash loser one morning after a night of innocent reminiscing over Patron Café shots, worse things have happened. They may not encourage further chats with said piece of trash, but they're probably texting you the message to the left immediately after waking up next to their own pathetic loser. Condolence high five!

The Creep - While most girls are not "psychos," we do all have some rather eccentric thoughts that occasionally float around in our heads. Do we plan to act on them? No. Is it nice to know that someone will have our back 110% if we ever decide we want to? Absolutely. The Creep will take your weird idea and take it a step further to say, "Hey! You're not alone! I, too, am a recreational sociopath! Let's get brunch."

The Nasty Gal - Some girls are made of sugar and spice and everything nice. Others are absolutely disgusting. This friend is clutch when you haven't showered/shaved your legs/swiped your Woman Card in three weeks and you just feel like sharing something grotesque. She probably has brothers or just really couldn't give less of a fuck about social norms, and has no problem discussing bodily functions at length. While this friend may not be your first choice to bring as a plus one to your meeting with Her Majesty the Queen, she's the perfect sidekick for an all-night bar hop that may or may not end with eating cheese fries off the floor.

The Cosmo - True to her name, this friend is a walking women's magazine. Quick with a sex tip of the day, questionable first date advice, and a seemingly endless supply of photos such as the one to the right, she will never need you hangin' should you need some *ahem* emotional uplifting. Perhaps not the ideal candidate to get you through a serious life crisis, but if you're just looking for a quick pick-me-up, you've got your girl.

The Fort Knox - This girl is a steel trap. If and when you decide to do something semi-socially uncouth like join a sugar daddy website or sell your eggs on Craigslist, she will be your emergency contact and confidante in case the meet-up goes awry. She'd never dream of letting your secret slip because while she's not one to criticize, at the end of the day you both know that your scheme for bagging a rich dude/making some extra cash is a little sad. Whatever, you do you. FK is a text away at any hour of the night or day!

 The Disney Channel - Sometimes, it's nice to have someone around who doesn't look down upon you for the fact that you still love old TV shows as much as you did in 2001. Sometimes, it's nice to watch these shows together via Skype, text, or Facebook message. Sometimes, you still cry when the Bug Juice campers leave at the end of the summer and even though half of them will be back next year it's still a big deal and you consider them your friends. Sometimes, it's obvious why you're [both] alone on a Friday night. Yikes.










If you have a friend that encompasses all of the above traits and more, she is a magician and might also be fake. It's nice to spread your ridiculousness out over a few different people anyway, lest they get sick of your nonsense and abandon you altogether. Seek out each of your friends for their individual strengths--especially the one who is good with makeup and hair. That is one essential betch.

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6 of my Favorite, Most Unladylike Parts of Skirt Season

A photo exists of me at about age two playing in the snow. I am tiny, holding one of my signature Snow Babies (literally a squash-sized pile of snow. My sculpture skills improved with age to include more anatomically correct attributes, like a neck), wearing a bright purple jacket and snow pants with mittens that definitely extended beyond my fingers by about two inches. The picture is, in a word, adorable.

What makes it even more adorable is the evidence of one of my weirdest/most deep-seated quirks that still thoroughly defines me today. I was wrapped tighter than Randy in A Christmas Story ("I can't put my arms down!"), but sticking out from under my puffy coat was a little ruffly dress. As a toddler, I insisted on wearing a dress at all times, so a skirt peeking out from where it shouldn't be was nothing out of the ordinary.

 

I have almost recreated this look a million times this terrible winter. I like wearing sweaters and boots and earmuffs, but make obligatory small-talk with the meek finance guy in the break room and even he would blurt out, "I don't know how much more of this I can take!" Side note: this might also be the exact point that he's snapped. Make friends quick, he's going to set the building on fire. I still love dresses. Hiding my man calves under a layer of tights and dress pants (I don't fuck around) has been so depressing. They didn't deserve to be in leg jail! They want to breathe! I could be unknowingly developing cankles! This is torture, Mother Nature!

Needless to say, I've been desperate for Skirt Season. I realize that any man reading this just let out an appreciative, "Damn straight!" but I'm willing to bet we have different agendas.

For guys, Skirt Season means legs and possibly even some donk should a Marilyn moment occur.

For girls, it means an easy outfit that's cute and feminine.

For me, it means something much more inappropriate than that. Here are my six favorite, yet most unladylike aspects of Skirt Season:

1. Maxi dresses let you sit like a man: "Wanna come over and watch the game?" "Wanna go on a picnic at the park?" "Wanna watch a P90X DVD while we eat Doritos?" I would like to do all of those things very much, and I will do all of them sitting spread eagle. Know why? Because I can. Where mini's and midi's advertise your hoo-ha when you move your knee a quarter of an inch any which way, maxi's are the friend that says, "Let loose, girlfriend, I've literally got you covered" to which I reply, "I love you so much, Crotchless Yoga Pants."

2. Constant Air Conditioning: Remember when the picture of Fergie from The Black Eyed Peas surfaced where "it looked like" she had peed her pants, but she just said she was really sweaty? First of all, that was a lose-lose situation, amirite? Second, had she been wearing a skirt, her Londy Londy Londy would've kept its cool and/or she could've let the River Thames loose and no one would have been the wiser. I love the fact that while I'm twirling in a skirt, it appears as though I'm having fun and being dainty. Not the case. I am actively creating a breezy environment from the waist down. I am a human oscillating fan.

3. Jump out of bed ready for the day: As in, I could wear a casual dress all day Friday, get home late and get straight in my bed, wake up the next morning, and immediately walk out the door to meet a friend for brunch, and I would have been comfortably and appropriately dressed the entire time. It's hard enough for me to take my own shoes off before I tuck myself in for the night--completely change from one set of clothes to another? Child please. The dress accepts my laziness and celebrates it. You gotta love an article of clothing that will change its name to "nightgown" just to make you feel better about your life.

4. Feign interest: Sometimes, I go on dates with people I'm not the least bit interested in (yes, I'm the one they've warned you about). It's not for attention or because I like to toy with people's emotions, I would just rather have plans than not. Simple as that. Throw in free food and an awkward story to share later and I'll go out with just about anyone [hot]. Date night outfits can vary depending on my level of legitimate attraction towards a person, which can get tricky. How do I decide the difference between an "I like you!" outfit vs. an "I haven't been grocery shopping in a week so yeah let's go to California Pizza Kitchen" one? The great thing about dresses is that they do the work for you. My mind says, "Oh my God are we going to talk about your fucking triathlon training this entire dinner?" but my dress says, "That's so interesting! Tell me more about the difference between your off- and on-season caloric intake percentages!"

5. Food baby disguise: Fourth of July is my jam. Beer and grilled meat are the foundation of our beautiful country, therefore patriotism demands that we consume as many of each as we possibly can with a large group of friends and an arsenal of colorful explosives. Unfortunately, Old Glory can cloud your judgement and suddenly you've downed six hot dogs faster than Joey Chestnut. A crop top would totally bail on you in this situation but a sundress steps up to the plate and conceals your bump without restriction. Go grab yourself a slice of apple pie, Baberaham Lincoln, no one has to know.

6. WHAT IF SHE HAD BEEN WEARING PANTS:

 

Enough said.

 

 

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Kasually Kidnapped, Part 1

Yesterday's Sunday Funday turned into a hostage situation.

My friends and I were drinking brunch, and since I'm both a conservationist and a giver, I was foregoing the orange juice part of the mimosa equation so that everyone else could have some (I know, right? So selfless). We were having an awesome time when I noticed a group of visually appealing guys walk in.

Six mimosas glasses of champagne had inevitably given me a boost of confidence as well as a dire need to haul ass to the ladies', so I took the long route around to walk by this group and examine the prospects. There were five of them: Bradley Cooper, Stretch Armstrong, Sasquatch, NotMyType, and Gavin. I returned to our group to find that all the champagne was gone, so on to red wine we would go, which called for a trip to a bar and OH HOW CONVENIENT these boys were in a prime spot.

I was gunning for Bradley Cooper but unfortunately he was standoffish (such a waste of a good face) so I swiveled and met Gavin. He was a solid 7.5 to the 10 that Bradley had established, but at least he didn't have the lumberjack beard that Sasquatch was rocking and wasn't at eye level with me like Stretch Armstrong and his roided out biceps were, so he had earned five minutes of conversation.

In that span of time we somehow established the "We're dating" shtick, which seemed a lot more clever at the time. All of what you're about to read aside, the guy's kind of a genius, because this gave him the perfect segue into asking me on a coffee date right on the spot. We left brunch and started walking to a place down the street when things took a turn for the What The Actual Fuck.

As we walked, he started asking me about my past relationships. 'Taking this shoddy inside joke a little far, buddy,' I thought, but I just kind of glazed over it with some response about how all of my exes are now friends so I was pretty lucky. This did not satisfy him.

"You've clearly never had a real man show you what you deserved."
"Wait what?"
"If you'd ever dated a real man you would have been treated like a princess."
"Wait...what?"
"You'll see."

Yikes. I suddenly remembered that I don't even like coffee, but we were there, and I figured the sooner we got this done, the sooner I could say thanks and then go back to the comfort of my friends. Unfortunately the love life interrogation only intensified.

"Are you ready for a relationship right now?"
"I mean with the right person, yeah, but I'm not really-"
"I am very ready."
"Yeah?"
"Very ready."
"I believe you."
"Are we dating?"
"Haha."
"No seriously, are we dating?"
"Wait what?"

ABORT ABORT ABORT. The "where r u??" texts from my friends had started rolling in so I recommended that we start heading back, as pleasant as this experience had been. Gavin claimed he was now starving, and I had getting the sense that he wasn't one to get hangry, so I said we could grab something really quick at the place next door.

"But like, really quick, my friends are waiting."
"Are you one of those girls that doesn't eat?"
"Haha no I'm just not hungry right n-"
"Get something to eat, I hate girls that don't eat."
"I can and have demolished an entire veggie pizza by myself, man. I'm not in the mindset for that right now, I'm good."
"I'm taking you on a date, you should eat."
"OH MY GOD I'LL GET NACHOS."

Before I was just annoyed; now I was getting a little scared. This was like the opening sequence of Law and Order: SVU in so many ways, and Gavin was starting to strike me as someone who had an expansive collection of windchimes made out of ex-girlfriend's bones. Benson and Stabler, save me!

Throughout the meal, he continued to inform me that I had never been "treasured" by a "real man" and described all of the activities we would do together now that we were dating. These included going to wine tastings (he was a self-proclaimed connoisseur), joining a couples' flag football league, making me his amazing Stuffed Tilapia ("I'm not a huge seafood fan, actually." "You'll love this." "Allllrighty then."), and taking his puppy on walks. Yay. After the mention of each of these activites, he would ask, "We are dating, right?" and I just laughed nervously because it was my only defense.

We finished eating and I hightailed it for the door, wondering how I always seemed to get myself into these predicaments. It was getting dark, so Gavin called a cab because I apparently looked cold. He made sure I understood how chivalrous this was and how he was such a thoughtful boyfriend. Cabs move faster than feet--he could've called me a rickshaw and I would've been grateful. I made this quip; he did not find it amusing.

I reached for my phone to text my friends that I was coming back and could we please not mention what a dumbass I was when I realized that it was gone. My phone was not here.


[cont. to Part 2]

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