True story. I’m not sure why I have a Google+ account. Most of the gmail contacts they suggest to me are people that I know, but deliberately choose not to be friends with, and the rest of them are craigslisters I’ve risked my life meeting for casual encounters concert tickets. And so I’m left with 7 friends in my circle. I’d ask them what they’re doing for Halloween, but I really have no idea how to use this thing.
Happy birthday to my BFF at work! I didn’t come in an hour early to post-it bomb just anyone’s desk ;) My appreciation for you runs deeper than your secret love for Hootie and the Blowfish. And I think we both know just how deep that is. Ha!
Whoever said that nothing tastes as good as thin feels has never had a Porto’s cheese roll, obvi. But I didn’t go to the gym at an unholy hour on a Saturday just to offset my workout by inhaling one of these delicious treats… that my aunt brought me from LA… that I probably won’t have again till Thanksgiving. Or Christmas. Or 2012.
Why You Need A Man, Not A Boy | Mindy Kaling via Glamour
Until I was 30, I dated only boys. I’ll tell you why: Men scared the sh*t out of me. Men know what they want. Men own alarm clocks. Men sleep on a mattress that isn’t on the floor. Men buy new shampoo instead of adding water to a nearly empty bottle of shampoo. Men make reservations. Men go in for a kiss without giving you some long preamble about how they’re thinking of kissing you. Men wear clothes that have never been worn by anyone else before.
OK, maybe men aren’t exactly like this. But this is what I’ve cobbled together from the handful of men I know or know of, ranging from Heathcliff Huxtable to Theodore Roosevelt to my dad. The point: Men know what they want, and that is scary.
What I was used to was boys.
Boys are adorable. Boys trail off their sentences in an appealing way. Boys get haircuts from their roommate, who “totally knows how to cut hair.” Boys can pack up their whole life and move to Brooklyn for a gig if they need to. Boys have “gigs.” Boys are broke. And when they do have money, they spend it on a trip to Colorado to see a music festival.
Boys can talk for hours with you in a diner at three in the morning because they don’t have regular work hours. But they suck to date when you turn 30.
So I’m into men now, even though they can be frightening. I want a schedule-keeping, waking-up-early, wallet-carrying man. I don’t care if he takes prescription drugs for cholesterol or hair loss. (I don’t want that, but I can handle it. I’m a grown-up too.)
When I was 19, my co-worker Mike took one look at my 21-year-old boyfriend and told me that I needed to date a real man (Mike was 30 with tattoo sleeves on both arms—I’m pretty sure he was talking about himself). Fast forward 10 years, and I’m still not dating real men! Maybe I’ll consider upgrading when I turn 30… in 3 months. Yikes.
This was me after the recent layoffs at work these past few weeks.
Jesse said it was so quiet in the office yesterday that you could hear a mouse fart. My boss let go of half of our marketing team (including the two interns I wasted six months of my life training), and I’ve been given all of their marketing responsibilities. If I have to google how to do one more fucking Excel formula, I might have to cut a bitch. And since no one else is left, it might have to be Jesse. Or that farting mouse.
Loved, loved, loved 50/50… even though my friends totally served me during this scene! Just because my car is a perpetual mess… and we often clean it out when we’re near a dumpster… and I sometimes cyberstalk my ex boyfriends.