I don’t get Valentine’s Day. I remember loving it as a child; spending hours (or five minutes) in the grocery store, trying to pick out the best box of Valentine’s cards; meticulously picking through the box, making sure to give my crush the best one; going over to my grandparents’ house to get a Valentine’s Day card
which declared that I’m their favorite grandchild with a $5 bill inside. I feel as though this opinion of mine was generated when I hit puberty, out of some sort of pretentious, screw-the-man type teenage angst. But it carried with me into adulthood and was solidified when I met The Husband, as he also shares the same opinion.
Preface: This following paragraph is going to come off as super mushy-gushy-newlyweddy. I apologize. Please note that is NOT my intent. We are not a love-dovey couple. We fight, even. Over dumb crap. Like, who has to change the cat litter. (
No pun intended.)
The Husband and I don’t usually do much for Valentine’s Day and we’re both ok with that. He often brings me home flowers for no reason (and has done so the entire six years we’ve been together). He’ll (mostly) sit through an episode of General Hospital without too much complaining. If I’m at the grocery store getting an after dinner treat, I’ll skip the apple pie (which he doesn’t like) and pick up cinnamon rolls (high up there on his favorite treat list). If he wants to finish a game on the PS3, I (usually) don’t mind trolling Pinterest for nail art. We genuinely like each other, and often do things to demonstrate that.
Why do we need one day a year designated to show the ones you love that you, well, love them?
I would get agita if Jason bought me a box of chocolates and roses on Valentine’s Day. For starters, I am NOT a “box of chocolates” girl. I’d much rather have him bring me home a Twix or a couple Kit Kats. Ooo, or chips and dip. And, also – have you seen the price of roses on Valentine’s Day? Outrageous! So, I’d be stressed that he spent so much money on flowers. Flowers that I don’t even like. (You heard me. Ain’t nobody got time for roses. But a nice bouquet of tulips? ::sigh:: If only my favorite florist had her own shop!)
Now, this is not to say that we don’t do a little something for each other on the 14th of February. But that’s the point. Why aren’t people always doing a little something for each other? Why don’t spouses make a daily effort to do something nice for the one you love?
That would take an awfully lot of pressure off of the Big V.D, wouldn’t it?
It’d probably also make Hallmark mad, but that’s their problem.
So many facets of our day to day life are performed based on a matter of opinion or preference. I understand that everyone is entitled to their own, but my opinion is that if you don’t do it like me, then you’re wrong.
Toilet paper goes over, not under. EngineeringDegree.net – which sounds legit – even did a study, with all sorts of science and numbers and logistics that I can not concern myself with, which discovered that the average American spends a half hour of their lives, every year, trying to find the end of the toilet paper roll. That’s one entire episode of The Mindy Project that you could be watching. You should watch The Mindy Project anyways. So save everyone some time and do it the right way.
If you have the option of using a ceiling light or a table lamp, you choose the table lamp. The exception to this, of course, is if you’re painting your nails. Then you use both. Duh.
You make a pb & j sandwich by applying peanut butter to both slices of bread. Apply the jelly, on top of the peanut butter, onto only one slice. Never, ever, should you have more jelly than you have peanut butter. It’s a 2:1 pb to jelly ratio, people.
The jelly must be strawberry.
You eat mints one at a time. You’re not a heathen. There’s no reason to go through an entire package of Altoids or Tic Tacs in one sitting.
Choose a method to run your fridge and run it. In a refrigerator, all of the salad dressings go next to all of the salad dressings. All of the beverages go on one shelf, designated only for beverages. Dairy products, excluding cheese, all go on one shelf. If you’re reading this, you’re probably not living at a frat house, and your refrigerator should represent that.
Speaking of cheese, squeeze all the air out when closing a bag. and I mean ALL of it. Lock that shit up tighter than … Hmm … insert celebrity virgin joke here, because I can’t think of one. A celebrity, not a joke. The joke is obvious, correct?
Ok. Time for a pop quiz. What is the correct way to eat m&ms?
Trick question. There is no wrong way to eat m&ms.
An Open Letter to you (Justin Timberlake):
I hope this gets to you the right way. It’s the only way I know how to do it. You know, other than stalking or excessive amounts of tweets. And I’d rather speak directly to you.
*Makes a serious face*
So, here goes:
This year was gearing up to be an exciting one for me. I heard you were releasing a new album.
As a now 27 year-old woman, I spent most of my teen years cutting pictures of you out of Bop magazine and taping them to my wall. My dad yelled and told me to use that sticky, blue, poster goo stuff, but I insisted you were worth ruining the walls with tape.
Through the years, I have kept tabs on you (I must reiterate that I am not a stalker or a danger to your life. Promise.) My iTunes is full of delicious JT gems. And my husband’s man-crush on you allows me to listen to and belt out all your old jams on a frequent basis. (On a side-but-relevant note: We have deemed “Cry Me a River” to be the best “f$#& you” song of all time. The video is such a burn. The Husband and I have had several conversations, debating whether or not adult-Justin feels a little guilty about it. Having just bought a house, our entertainment budget is fairly low and we can analyze your psyche for free soooo)
I read how excited you were about your new material. That it was full of inspiration of things you grew up listening to. Your pride in the album was palpable. I. Was. Pumped.
And then – then, my dear, handsome JTimbs – then, you released “Suit & Tie”.
10 years of relationships and career advancements and births and deaths and, well, life? And what you give us is “Suit & Tie”?
“I can’t wait til I get you on the floor, good-lookin’. Going out so hot, just like an oven. And I’ll burn myself but just had to touch it. It’s so fly and it’s all mine.”
“Go on and show ‘em who you call daddy.”
Maybe the responsibility for my disappointment falls squarely on my shoulders. Maybe I gave you too much credit, thought too much of you. Maybe it’s my fault for wishing that, as your fans grew older, you grew with them. I expected you to deliver a delicious, soul-searching inspired, makes me weak-in-the-knees new song.
But you really just told me something your fans already know. You look damn good all suited up.
That’s all I’m giving you for now.
I hope the rest of your album moves past the obvious. Finding out is going to be fun.
Xoxo – Heather
When I was in middle school, AOL chat rooms occupied most of my and my girlfriend’s time. We thought it was hilarious to talk to boys our age, while pretending that we were 19 or ::gasp:: even 20! We’d then talk to creepy 40-year-old men, doing the same schtick. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t think we were in any danger (I mean, I’m sure we probably were, but at the time we thought we were safe and sound.) We were well aware that these men were creepy, and found much joy in making fun of them, duping them into believing we were something we weren’t. These chats usually didn’t last much more than an hour, before we went about returning to real life.
Some people never return to real life. Some people are unappreciated at home and unfulfilled at work. Some get their jollies in knowing that they’ve tricked an innocent person into thinking that they are something that they’re not. Some people are simply desperate to create a different life for themselves. What easier, quicker way to do that than by creating a virtual life?
There have been countless primetime news specials about this very subject. The documentary “Catfish” covers this, too. A handsome, young guy falls in love with a woman he met online. He becomes friends with her family and friends and talks to her on the phone daily. After some research, it’s determined that this woman, “Megan” was entirely made up by a woman named Angela. According to the film’s Wikipedia page, “Angela confesses that the various personae were fragments of her personality enacting fantasies of her life if she had made different choices.”
I’ll spare you the background story on this, because I’m sure you’ve already heard. If not, take a look at this Deadspin article.
I’m not saying that I am certain that Te’o wasn’t in on this hoax. If it comes out that he helped create the whole persona of Lennay Keuka, his girlfriend of a year who passed away from leukemia on the same day that his grandmother died, I’m not going to be shocked. But I also won’t be surprised to learn that Te’o really was the victim of some elaborate online scheme.
Te’o comes from a very religious family, from a very small island in Hawaii. That alone leads me to the conclusion that he could have been a very naïve boy, er, man. He had spent 19 years of his life in a very sheltered community. He then chose to go to Notre Dame, which is also a very sheltered community. Do I find it hard to believe that he started a relationship with a woman he met online? No. Do I find it hard to believe that he dated and fell in love with this woman without ever seeing her in person? Eh, that’s where I’m 50-50.
Supposedly, she stood him up several times. She was stuck in school. She didn’t have the money to fly and meet him. She was in a car accident. She was sick with leukemia. So, why would he keep talking to her? Why would he keep this relationship going?
Because boys are stupid.
Why didn’t he go see her after she was in a car accident? Why didn’t he go visit her while she was having chemo? For starters, he was the quarterback of Notre Dame. I’m pretty sure that his life involved school work and football and maybe, MAYBE, a couple free minutes here and there to eat and go to the bathroom. He claims that whenever he was going to put football on hold and come see her, she begged and demanded that he stay where he was. Don’t let his team down! Play for her! It makes her feel better to see him do so well!
Again, he was a 20-year-old kid. And football was, and is, his livelihood.
He did what she asked.
I think that this story can go either way, and I’m very interested in seeing where it ends up. I sincerely hope, for Te’o’s sake, that he was an unfortunate casualty of someone else’s hoax. I can’t imagine that many future NFL teammates will be quick to welcome him in their locker room after finding out that he killed a fake girlfriend off with leukemia, hours after his grandmother actually died.
There are many ways to make friends, but I don’t think faking cancer is one of them.
The Oscars may be the most important, but the Golden Globes may be my favorite awards show. As Amy Poehler put it, it’s one of the only times that the beautiful faces of movies rub elbows with the rat faced people of television (And, if you’ve ever laid eyes on, say Julie Bowen or Rachel Bilson, you know just how hideous people of television can be.)
Both the pretty and rat faces alike walked the red carpet. Um, holy hotness, Kristin Wiig, right? As an aside – I thought she and Will Ferrell killed it when presenting Best Actress in a Comedy or Musical. The cutesy presenter skits usually come off as awkward (I’m talking about you, Jonah Hill and Megan Fox.), but Wiig and Ferrell nailed it. In case you missed it, they pretended that they saw every movie, by giving a synopsis based solely on the movie’s title.
But back to the red carpet. Because obviously, I know all there is to know about fashion. I thought Sally Field looked both age appropriate and sassy in her navy Alberta Ferretti.
I know there’s not much she can do, but I’m over Anne Hathaway’s pixie cut. Lucy Liu’s blue, flower-patterned Carolina Herrera was incredibly painful to look at.
I thought Eva Longoria’s get up was confusing. Are you flashing leg or cleavage? If it’s cleavage, why do you have such a high neckline? Are you a 1800s Victorian gone bad? I don’t understand.
I’ve read bad things about Kristen Bell’s dress, but I thought she looked super cute, with her little pregnant belly.
Jennifer Garner was especially stunning, in her red Vivienne Westwood. Unlike most of the women last night, Jennifer actually ::gasp:: put her hair up!How come most women didn’t feel the need to do this? I don’t understand. You’re wearing dresses more expensive than my house. Throw a couple bobby pins in your damn hair!
This year, I was particularly looking forward to the Globes, because Tina Fey and Amy Poehler were hosting. Tina and Amy are everything I hope to be when I grow up – hilarious, smart, successful. I want to be part of their best friend club.
And can we just take a moment to talk about Jodi Foster? Her decision to pop some uppers right before accepting the Cecil B. DeMille Lifetime Achievement Award was questionable, at best. What the heck was going on with her? Her speech was nearly incoherent. In one breath, she is saying that she doesn’t need to officially come out of the closet to know who she is, but in the next, did she come out? Is she retiring from acting or does she loves to act? Why is she such good friends with Mel Gibson that it warranted her thanking him? Does Mel Gibson know they are good friends? Because he looked confused. Is her mom dead? Dying? Why were her sons there? For someone who fiercely guards her privacy, she was pretty much an open book during those 6 minutes last night. Like, a choose-your-own-adventure book. Where none of the choices make sense because actually you’re not reading a book at all. Because you’re high on uppers.
One more thing – I think I have a girl crush on Jennifer Lawrence. As she accepted her award for Best Actress, she quipped, “I beat Meryl. That’s what it says,” to the gasps of the pretentious audience below. How DARE she disrespect the great Ms. Streep. Actually, guys, she was quoting Bette Midler in First Wives Club. She also went on to thank her brothers … for being mean to her … but eventually, you know, being really supportive and loving. I thought her speech was charming. And is she dating Bradley Cooper? Because he “makes her better, every day”. Someone confirm this for me. I could get down with some JLaw-BCoops lovin’.
When it comes to getting old, there are plenty of things
you I can complain about. Is that one of my highlights or a gray hair? Do I feel achy because of the gym (haven’t gone in a month) or because the weather is cold? And why is a dollar amount which includes a comma coming out of my bank account every month? (Stupid mortgage.)
One thing about getting older that I’m sort of digging? Knowing who I am and owning it.
I am a woman who asks my husband, every.single.night, if he wants to get a treat after dinner (or sometimes, before.)
I am a woman who invents and acts out (well, describes in vivid detail because there’s no way I’m running up a wall. I’m old) lavish ninja moves on a weekly basis.
I am a woman who can’t walk elegantly in high heels.
I am a 27-year-old woman who loves Taylor Swift.
When it comes to TSwizzle, as The Husband and I like to call her, I believe nearly everyone is firmly planted on one of two sides. You simply love her or you hate her. I haven’t come across many who are like “Oh, Taylor Swift? Eh. She’s ok.” Me? I looooove me some TSwizzle.
Not only do I love her, but I will bitterly defend her to anyone who lifts their nose up at her.
“She only dates guys so she can break up with them and write a song.”
Oh? Is that the only reason a 20-something would date someone a few times? It couldn’t be that they hung out for a couple months and things weren’t working?
“Everyone knows who she is talking about in her songs.” Is that her fault? (Well, with the exception of “Dear John” but homeboy had that one coming to him.) We live in an age where I literally just looked at a picture and read a blurb about how Mila Kunis seems to love wearing sweatpants and why doesn’t she take more pride in her appearance and try harder when going to a coffee shop or the grocery store? Like, I just read that. Should I care what an actress wears to the grocery store? No. Should you? No. Did I still click the link? Yup. Did the writers of the “article” still judge her? Yup. That’s 2013, loveys. There is a mass obsession with celebrities. What they wear. Where they wear it. Who they are dating. Is it Taylor’s fault that paparazzi follow her every move and cover every date? No. So should she be penalized for behaving like a normal 20-something? I don’t believe so.
If Carly Simon wrote “You’re So Vain” today, there would be no bets over who the song was about. We would know.
In “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together” she sings a line that I love. (Speaking to the boy she is fighting with) “And you’ll hide away and find your piece of mind with some indie record that’s muuuuch cooler than mine.”
Is liking Taylor Swift lame because she’s so mainstream and not some tiny, indie-rock group? I don’t care. If it’s lame to like Taylor Swift, then call me … um … Captain Lame-o. If loving her is red, then, um, I don’t want to be … not red. (Cut me some slack. I’m recovering from the flu.)