Real World Blog Slacker

I have been the worst blogger on the planet over the course of the last week.  Being young and retired has rapidly changed in to not as young as I used to be, over tired, not even close to organized, moody, hungry, irrationally stressed, Darcy-neglecting, and somehow, still poor.  My third book (since my first is going to be a memoir based on my blog and my second is going to be about my dating life called Mercury Poisoning) is going to be a comparison of working the standard 9-5 job in the corporate world versus working odd jobs around town which take up all of your time, all of your energy, are fast paced and exciting but require there to be more than one in order to make ends meet.  (Fun fact – it was recently that I learned it isn’t ‘ends meat’ – like you would get the end of a cow or something… you’re welcome for that tid-bit.)

I’ve had my first taste of this other form of working for the last week, all of which came to fruition on Friday.  I sent Darcy to camp dog wonderland, also known as my parents house, for a couple of days while I tried to figure out how to manage my new schedule.  I feel the need to mention that so my massive PETA following doesn’t think she was caged up and unfed for three days since I spent about 2 full hours at home.

Back together and it feels so good!!!!

Back together and it feels so good!!!!

On Friday, I worked at my gym job from 5:30 AM until 2:30 PM.  Afterwards, I went home, changed, and decided I should walk to my restaurant job.  I left my house at 3:15 thinking I would get there early, and showed up at 3:52 for my 4:00 shift.  Google Maps said it would take me 23 minutes.  We also learned I’m the slowest walker along with worst blogger on the planet.

Everyone has been saying to me during this entire retirement period “just wait tables – you’ll make a ton of money.”  Just wait tables.  That statement seemed so easy.  Well, this is an apology to any waiter/tress out there who I have ever underestimated.  Waiting tables is difficult.  You have to constantly be watching your customers.  You always need to be moving around.  You have to remember ridiculous orders.  You have to recommend something to people who you know nothing about.  I’m usually that patron too, asking brilliant questions like “What should I get?” to a complete stranger who couldn’t care less what you eat.


At first, I stood back and waited for direction.  I’ve since been told the other servers don’t have time to give you direction so keep doing what needs to be done.  I find myself so excited when I can answer a question that someone has that I forget what they ordered by the time I get back to the computer.  I messed up an order on Friday night – I put in the wrong type of chicken wings.  I was sent to the back to roll silverware and once the order was remedied the Chef yelled “Hey, New Girl – what table did you F*** up?!”  Talk about a change from the corporate world.  But  It was okay.  I did screw up and his response was scary and I’ll try not to screw up again.  My boss at my old job would have smack talked me to the rest of my team all the while making my life a living hell and never discussing what the real problem was.  So bring it, Scary Kitchen Guys.


I used to be really good at rolling silverware when I worked in a restaurant in college.  Apparently that’s a skill that I’ve lost over time because someone told me I looked like I’ve never rolled a blunt before.  And much to his surprise, I said in fact sir, I have not.  Another person called me Fresh Meat all night.  Deep down I was slightly flattered, but then realized that wasn’t actually a compliment on my appearance when he would bark as I walked by.

It’s amazing the difference of environment when you aren’t being over shadowed by an HR department.

The gym is entirely different.  There are chipper women who show up before 6:00 AM every morning to get in their high cardio and sculpting classes before heading off to their day jobs or back home to nurse their babies.  The entire place is filled with enthusiasm and positive energy.  I even have the opportunity to work out with them now and then and the classes are up beat and encouraging.  They drink green smoothies and spend full pay checks on week long cleanses and clean eating.  No one is passive aggressive, no one is talking about you when you aren’t listening, no one is miserable.


They’re both difficult jobs.  The gym because of the hours and the restaurant because of the tasks required.  Do I plan to be at either for a long period of time?  No – and maybe knowing it isn’t forever is what makes them so much more exciting.  But I’m meeting new people, they’re both fast paced and fun and it’s a nice breath of fresh air from sitting in a cubical and wishing the building would blow up to put me out of my misery.


Give Me Your Tired, Your Poor

Thanks for writing that song for me, America. Retirement is getting exhausting. I decided the first part time job I had wasn’t enough so I picked up another. However, at this point I’m working every day and have still only seen one pay check. I don’t miss my old job at all. I don’t miss my commute. I don’t miss the crazies. I don’t miss the cubical. But I do miss having a normal schedule and regularly getting paid. It’s funny the things you take for granted. It seems so nice to be able to have all this time off now and then but when you don’t work 9-5 jobs you find yourself working at 5:30 in the morning or trying to get your shift covered on Saturday for a wedding. Someone asked me out on a date this weekend and I couldn’t tell you the next weekend I would be free for such an event. It isn’t bad- I’d rather be working than not working- but it is very different and something to get used to as we dive deeper into the Summer of Me. 
This is the only thing I’ve really been able to come up with for posts this week. I’ll think of more but my sleep patterns haven’t done any favors in exercising my brain. I guess I could have gotten pretty elaborate on how fantastic the Taylor Swift concert was or penned some precious story about my dog, but you’ve heard that all before. Basically this is how I have been feeling: 

Always leave it to Michael Scott to know the right thing to say! 

Magic, Madness, Heaven, Sin… An Ode to Taylor Swift

I’ve been procrastinating this blog post because it needs to be perfect.  If I’m going to write about the greatest country turned pop star of my generation, I need to get it right.  Taylor Swift is fantastic.  There may be haters, but I’m here to change your mind.  Let’s consider the reasons why:

1. She has the perfect answer for every state of mind. Literally everything.  Going through a breakup? Taylor will sing you to acceptance.  In an awful relationship?

Tay’s been there.  Lovin’ him was red – believe me, I know.  Do you love your friends?  Do they make you feel 22?  Are there nasty people that you have to encounter every day?  Let me tell you something – don’t you worry your pretty little mind, people throw rocks at things that shine.  And all they’ll ever be is mean.

I listened to Shake It Off on repeat during commutes during my last month of work. Tay (and nightly bottles of wine) can get you through anything!

2. She cares about people: She’s like the queen of anti-bullying.  She’s mastered the art of staying grounded amongst fame and fortune.  She donates money to those who need it most.  She regularly visits sick kids.  She reaches out to bullied teens.  She understands who got her to where she is and believes in giving back.  Two years ago there was a huge thunderstorm during her show in Philadelphia.  I was one of the 50,000 sitting on the concourse waiting for the rain to pass.  She still performed and afterwards, although it was midnight, followed through with her visit to the Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia.  It didn’t matter if she was tired – sick kids were more important.

  3. Every song she’s ever written ever: There isn’t a bad one. She’s catchy.  She’s funny.  She’s relatable. She’s clean (literally and figuratively.)  Everything is appropriate – sometimes you wish she went into a little more detail but I guess we will just have to use our imagination about her current escapades with the dreamy Calvin Harris.

4. She’s entertaining: Whether mocking Harry Styles or picking on John Mayer or just dressing like a fantastic fashionista and putting on an incredible show – Taylor Swift is not a performance to miss.  There is dancing.  There are pyrotechnics.  There are special guests.  There are teenyboppers in adult bodies… It’s worth the price to go see her.  Thunderstorm or shine.

5. She loves her family. Tay is like obsessed with her mom and still does Easter Egg hunts with her brother. Further proving we would be best friends.

6. She’s from Pennsylvania. Really great people are from Pennsylvania.

I keep trying to re-write this so I don’t sound like the creepiest fan girl on the face of the earth, but I don’t even care.  I think she is wonderful and cannot wait to hang out with her tomorrow night.  Maybe she doesn’t know we’re going to be hanging out and maybe 49,999 other people will be joining us, but it’s going to be fantastic just the same. 

Not the Girl I Used to Be

I prided myself in college for my deep connection with my Irish roots and the way I could hold my alcohol. Whether or not I was fun to hang out with, I’ll let my college friends attest to, but I had no problem closing down a bar and waking up relatively hang-over free. I’m guessing they had a pretty good time too. 



I’ve often heard the age old saying “I’m no spring chicken” or “I just can’t party like I used to” and felt terrible for whomever made such an admittance. I would never be that person. At least not until I was gainfully employed with a dreamy doctor husband and perfect children and didn’t have time to over indulge in tequila shots because of my successful Doggie Daycare side business and fabulous dinner parties. 

And I was wrong.

I hate being wrong. Especially in situations like this. I didn’t open my eyes until noon yesterday because I said ‘yes’ to Fireball shots on Wednesday night. At one time- Fireball only whispered temptations in my ears and introduced me to one of my best friends, Digornio Rising Crust. Now, it comes through like a Mac truck and I’m the pavement. 


The only thing worse than a vicious hangover is checking your phone the next morning. When you’re in the early stages of dating is when it’s the worst. Incoherent text messages. Outgoing calls. Outgoing calls long enough to imply you left a voicemail. Ouch. You can only use the excuse ‘oh I meant to call (insert name that begins with the same initial- ideally another guy to make them jealous- even though they’re probably just freaked out- here) and must have hit the wrong name!’ So many times. 

Pictures can also be dangerous. Especially if you take photos with your girlfriends in the bathroom of the bar and your drunk eyes see the most gorgeous woman in the world so you decide you should send it to any and all potential suitors out there. Like the following. To my knowledge this wasn’t sent out, due to all of our lack of potential suitors- but I hate bathroom selfies in real life. I hate selfies in general. And taking a picture in the bathroom is just stupid. But apparently, my drunk alter ego deemed this the ideal way to celebrate a triple crown win- notice It was so exciting that I’m still holding soap- TAKE IT RIGHT NOW WE ARE EVEN MORE BEAUTIFUL BEFORE WE WASH OUR HANDS!!   

I guess I’m just sad because I thought I would at least carry my strong tolerance through my 20s. And it isn’t going to happen. But maybe it’s for the best. I’ll cut back on drunk dials and silly selfies and harsh hangovers. I guess I’m just not the girl I used to be. I blame you entirely, Fireball. 


Chew This – Not That!

For reasons that I’ll address in length tomorrow, I spent a lot of time in bed today doing things like reading (read: sleeping) and scouring the internet for job ideas and life paths (read: watching YouTube videos.)

IMG_5353I am sorry if I post too much about my dog (I’m not, I’m reallllly not) but I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to share this video with my favorite followers (yes, that’s you!) and those pet lovers who may stumble across my online repository of thoughts…

Why is it so hysterical when your dog is under your covers?  Why don’t they remember the things you JUST talked about?  How come my dog loves cheese but the internet says it’s going to kill her? Why did she have to roll around in the dog park today when I gave her a bath 24 hours before?! I’ve related to every moment of this at some point in the last year.


This One is for Steph

Earlier this year I went to a decent number of basketball games.  They were really fun because I was in the owners box but also because in basketball, someone is obligated to win, so although the Sixers couldn’t get it done, the other team would.

During that time I fell for my new athletic man of the hour, Steph Curry.  I’m a playoff NBA fan so don’t know much about what’s going on in the regular season – BUT I learned about Steph early this year, thanks to this phenomenal SportCenter commercial:

It was really exciting to get to watch him play against the Sixers.  It was actually a fantastic game on both sides.  And now he’s in the Finals.  And everyone outside of Cleveland’s fair weather, hypocritical, jersey burning fans are looking to see him bring in a Championship. (That’s nothing against Lebron – just the haters.)  It’s fun to have a reason to get excited about the Finals when the Pelicans get knocked out early and your home team sets records for most losses in NBA history.

Keep up the good work out there, Golden State and Steph!  I can’t wait to hang out with Riley all the time some day!

How You Doin’? 

Pick up lines. We all have them. They’re primarily associated with men, but women have pick up lines too. My go-to conversation starter is ‘I can name every baseball team by division.’ (Insert seductive wink face here) 


It never works. 10 out of 10 times it turns into a challenge. And as I begin to do it the guy tells me they know who I’m missing the whole time. The worst is when I have 29/30 teams listed and let them tell me who I am forgetting. “THATS THE EASIEST ONE!” They always say. Right- because the Minnesota Twins have been super relevant in our lifetimes… 

My pick up line has adjusted a bit in the last two months. Now I usually start off with “Hey” (jump right to seductive wink face) “Go for Introductions; mention that we have something in common; add shameless plug about reading my blog.”  I assume that’s a solid reason for current single-ness. As my roommate so delicately says [my blog] “takes away a lot of the mystery in getting to know you.” And my mom always says “How are you going to explain that if a potential suitor reads it?!” Oh well.

Once, my roommate and I pretended to be each other when talking to two potential suitors in a bar. I introduced myself with her name, added that I was from Ohio and told him where she/I went to college. I found it hilarious. She decided to step in and do the same thing with his friend. She introduced herself with my name, said I was from New Orleans (well that’s not true) and then stared blankly when he asked where she went to college. She guessed and looked at me questionably. She was wrong. It didn’t work. People run away when you’re confused about your identity these days because you probably stole it. She’s since said she has started listening.

I am a sucker for a good pick up line. I’m tired of all the “you have beautiful eyes” nonsense. I know I do- all of your friends have told me. Be original. Catch me off guard with a solid “Did it hurt? When you fell from heaven?” The cheesier the better. I’m a big fan of “I’m glad I brought my library card- cause I’m checking you out!” Although I guess that’s slightly outdated. Today it would be more like “I’m glad I have my Apple ID password with me because I’m purchasing you for $.99!” 

Keep up the good work out there ladies and gentlemen. And remember- the cheesier and more PG the pick up line, the faster we’ll get talking and the faster I’ll give you my web address and maybe even phone number.


Happy Birthday, Roommate!!

Good roommates are hard to come by.  My biggest nightmare is a dirty roommate who doesn’t drink and has anger issues.  Fortunately, I live with the opposite of that.   Here are a couple of things about my Roommate that you should know:

– When we met, I had had it with roommates.  I wanted to live alone or with a guy.  A mutual friend introduced us and told me she was the closest I would get to living with a guy.  And it’s true.  Especially now that I don’t have a job.  Roommate wakes up and goes to work every day and I sit around and sometimes cook, rarely but sometimes clean and wait for her to get home to tell me what the outside world is like.  It’s a great balance that I think I enjoy a lot more than she does.



– She’s super organized.  I don’t really believe in organization because I think it’s easier to find your clothes when they’re already on your floor.  Once, she sneaked (again – snuck, not a word) into my room and put together a shelf and organized my shoes.  When I load the dishwasher she waits until I leave the room and does it again – and never even complains.  It’s great because she would prefer I didn’t unload the dishwasher so she doesn’t have to re-do the Tupperware drawer.  This is the difference between our rooms when we pack:


– She loves to drink.  She’s not the type to come home at night and open a bottle of wine because she had a rough Tuesday.  But I am.  I’m the type to come home and open a bottle of wine no matter what kind of Tuesday it is.  But I never have to worry about drinking alone because she will ALWAYS drink with you.  We’ve hit the point after all of these years when I say “do you want a glass” and she laughs and rolls her eyes.  Which means yes.  On the slim chance that she says no, I pour it anyway.  We live by the firm belief of no wine left behind.

See those empty bottles... They were full before my Roommate got to them

See those empty bottles… They were full before my Roommate got to them

– She’s really creative.  Whenever I need to cut something in a straight line, she does it for me.

– She’s a great listener.  When you put a glass of wine in front of her and start venting – she’ll sit there for hours.  Between listening to me complain about my job or dating, she deserves an award.

There are some things wrong with my roommate that you should know too:

– Her clothes are better than mine.  She’s been fashion forward since she was a baby…


Just a demonstration of her fantastic fashion sense

Fantastic fashion sense

– She eats the most random meals so there is never food to steal

– She’s obsessed with reality television to the point that she’s winning her Bachelor Fantasy League (yes- that is a thing)

Always drinking...

Always drinking…

– She’s a natural athlete.  She runs faster than me.  Once I accidentally missed a mile of a 5K and beat her but other than that she would win in a race.


Yes, she hydrates after exercising with wine…

– Darcy likes her more than me.  She thinks Roommate is the cool-aunt and I’m the un-fun mom.  It brings out a jealous side of me that I’m not proud of.

Sometimes they get matching manis

Sometimes they get matching manis

What I’m trying to say is , it’s hard to find an organized-handicapped animal accepting-semi alcoholic who needs a place to live at the same time that you do.  I guess I just lucked out.  Happy Birthday Roommate!  I can’t wait to celebrate you being two years older than me for the next 25 days!


No Regard for Personal Space

My dog is 12 pounds.  When she plays with bigger dogs or barks at the window washers, she thinks she’s 100 pounds.  When she wants to leap onto your lap or lay on top of you at night, she thinks she’s no pounds.

It is funny to watch because she really has no fear.  There was a massive dog in the dog park this morning who wanted nothing to do with her and was likely going to take her face off if we got any closer.  My self declared doberman was pulling with all of her might to get closer anyway.  Maybe she just doesn’t understand social queues.  Who knows?

Right now she’s mad at me and sulking under my comforter because she kept walking across my computer.  She does it for attention – at first I didn’t care, but then when she closed out of a 500 word post and now I can’t get the number 6 to work properly, I had to put my foot down and break it to her that her feather like demeanor is actually much heavier.


Update: to prove my point…