cool is contagious

What I’m Liking on the Internets This Week

• Mustache pacifier - Thanks to Mike for introducing me to Pintrest for boys and this ADORABLE infant accessory. Finally your kid can be as hip as you are.  
• The Only Way is Essex - I don’t know about you, but ever since The Hills went off the air, there’s been a deep, dark void in my life. It has finally been filled by these British darlings. Plus all two seasons are FO FREE on Hulu. So that’s what I’m doing this weekend…
• Cookie-stuffed cookies - Ever find yourself eating a cookie and think, “Man I wish this had just a little more cookie!” Me too. So Monday a crew from work solved this problem. The sinful results pictured below. 
• Food on My Dog - Thanks again to Kevin for this gem. 
• Deliciously snarky tumbl - Courtesy of my President. I can’t even. This is great.

Get Skinny! Death by Spin Class

My last workout nearly sent me into a panic attack, so I decided it was time for a new gym. This one has classes, towels, and a locker room where I don’t accidentally bump into someone’s sweaty behind.

Since I am the worst when it comes to working out, I decided that I am going to take full advantage of these classes. I dream of being one of those girls who declines after-work drinks because “I never miss a Zumba class!”

Tuesday I tried a spin class.

I should let you know here that I have never before participated in an exercise class. Organized exercise has not really been my thing. Like I got cut from my high school soccer team. The punchline: we had a “no cut” policy. Zing! And aside from a Winterim “yoga” class during my Atlanta Girls’ School days (which was really nothing more than breathing, meditating about my “feelings,” and napping on a mat for 45 minutes), I stick to solo work outs on the elliptical. 

It shouldn’t surprise me then that Tuesday’s spin class NEARLY KILLED ME. Not only was I oblivious to the spin jargon the instructor was screaming at us, but I was completely shown up by the skinny exercise goddesses in my class. Here I was—barely able to stay on my bike, my legs protesting this foreign and obscene level of exertion—and these girls were just breezing along, probably thinking “I never miss a spin class!”

This is the picture on the gym’s website. This is what those girls looked like. I will spare you an image of my sweaty, defeated body.

Anyway, I did survive. But barely. Today I opted for a class called “Ab Fab,” which is a deceptive title because there was nothing “fab” about it. I basically spent the entire 30 minutes flopping around on my mat and cursing every chicken finger I ever ate.

Thankfully the girl next to me was just as elegant. Perhaps we’ll become friends.

Get Skinny! January Gymers

If you ever care to see me on the verge of a temper tantrum, catch me immediately after one of the following:

• A shower that inexplicably turned icy cold half-way through and I still had 3/4 of my legs to shave and conditioner all up in my hurr
• Being trapped in a really hot, sweaty, crowded space for any period of time (i.e. subways in July, Six Flags)

Today I found myself in the latter situation, and boy was I cross.

I know that a bunch of people all over the world made a bunch of “resolutions” to try not to be so fat in 2k12 (myself included), but I didn’t think that each and every one of them would decide to fulfill this resolution in my gym!

Honestly, I think over half of the Manhattan population was there today—all panting, sweating, and dreaming of less-fat versions of themselves in disgustingly close proximity. And while the elliptical area was definitely hot and gross, it was in the locker room where I really lost it.

There were so many sweaty, naked women throwing shoes and bras everywhere, I practically had to cut someone to get to my locker. And by the time I got my stuff I was so hot and fittified, I knocked down about three of them trying to get the hell out of there. 

Then I was so busy pouting and stewing on the subway ride home, that I was completely oblivious to the fact that my eyeliner had made its way down to my chin and most of my hair was in a hot, matted mess on the side of my face.

Hopefully, the rest of the January gymers will forget that they don’t want to be fat in 2k12 and leave me to me to sweat in peace.

Or maybe I’ll find something more fun to do than work out, like watch Mob Wives.

Also, fun fact: when you Google “sweaty” or “sweat” there are an alarming number of images of Christina Aguilera.

What I’m Liking on the Internets This Week

• Shit New Yorkers Say - I’d like to thank Kevin for introducing me to Matt Cherette’s Tumblr last week. This dude is obsessed with Revenge, cute animals, and middle aged women on reality shows, so I basically love everything he posts. This little gem is my fave of the “shit that ____ say” meme. 
• “I am a Bad Person” on Hello Giggles - Like I can’t even. This basically describes by past two years of dating.
• “Off to the Races” by Lana Del Rey - I know homegirl was a hot mess on SNL, but I am totally digging this song.
• Little piggy chillin in the sun
• This bathing suit from Urban Outfitters - It’s wayyyy too early and I’ve accumulated too much winter insulation to be thinking about lounging on a beach, but this is too cute for school.

Oh and this! Gahh!

Ferngully Inspired

This ASOS dress reminds me of the intro to Ferngully. And I kinda like it.

$5,000 Watch

Aside from a brief beer with an autistic gentleman, only one date came out of my 2nd round with NoWayStupid. And boy was that fun!

I was foolishly optimistic about this guy. He was tall, kinda chubby, and appeared to be a hamburger connoisseur of sorts. Check, check, and check! For our first date, he took me to brunch at Perilla in the West Village, which was amazing. I had scrimp&grits and three bloody marys. He was super charming (and paying for everything), so brunch turned into a stroll around a museum, which turned into fancy drinks, which turned into a sushi dinner.

I got the impression that he was trying to impress me by spending money, partly because he was spending so much money and partly because he kept talking about all his family’s “houses” and “cars” and “dinner parties.” But I didn’t pay much attention because, you know, I’d been drinking since 2pm.

After dinner he took me to the bench where Woody Allen and Diane Keaton sat in Manhattan. This felt painfully forced, but I endured the too-soon romance for about 10 minutes before declaring I needed to go to sleep.

All in all it wasn’t bad. Free food, decent company.

Then he tricked me into a second date.

He invited me to accompany him to the premiere of Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. Duh, I said yes. “Why don’t we try another date before the premiere??” he asked innocently. “Awwkay,” I said. Tricks!

We went to Mayahuel in the East Village—incredible food and drinks. Not so incredible date. Here’s how things unraveled:

FIRST

We talked about our childhoods, which is always for fun early dating talk because neither person is really listening to the other. He told me about his various vacation house(s!), and asked me, “So where did you summer?”

HA!

“Athen’s YWCO Camp,” I replied.

SECOND

We were eating these delicious tamales, and he spilled some of the sauce on his (I’m guessing fairly expensive) suit. He made an embarrassed face, so to lighten the mood, I sweetly said, “Aw you spilled!” and offered him my napkin. To which he replied, “No I didn’t.”

Um okay, but I totally just saw you dude.

He spent the rest of dinner awkwardly pulling his jacket over the stain to “hide” it from me. SO freaking weird.

THIRD

Somehow we got back onto the subject on “summering,” and he began telling me about his family’s annual bash in the Hamptons. I was half-listening, until he dropped this bomb: “Now not to freak you out, but this party is like a big test for a girlfriend. Like if you can handle it, and my parents like you, then you’re in the family pretty much.”

I choked on my margarita.

FOURTH

Homeboy was full of stories that night, so he started telling me about this wild, crazy time he ate a chicken&waffles spot in LA (maybe he was trying to convince me he could also do low-brow??). Well he apparently wore basketball shorts and a t-shirt to this establishment AND—here’s the punchline—his $5,000 watch. When the waitress came to the table she allegedly remarked, “I know you’re not wearing that $5,000 watch with basketball shorts!” He then chuckled to me, “I mean what could I say?”

As he awkwardly adjusted his jacket to yet again cover up his OBVIOUS tamale stain, exposing his $5,000 watch, he said, “Oh yeah, it was actually this watch here!”

Okay, Gob Bluth. “Come on!”

AND FINALLY

He voted for John McCain. Check please.

Needless to say I didn’t respond to his follow-up calls/texts/FB friend requests. And unfortunately, I was un-invited to the premiere. I hope he and his $5,000 watch had a terrific time together. Whatevs!

Catch-Up

It’s been a while since I’ve tumbld, and a lot has gone down. Let’s just breeze through the nitty gritty, so I can get back to dishing about the boys I don’t want to be with and the clothes I can’t afford.

• I got brown hairs!
• Like 500 people came to visit me for New Yearz
• I moved to Brooklyn
• I GOT A NEW IPHONE
• Survived a solo mission to the Ikea in Redhook
• Tried jalapeño-infused tequila and loved it
  
• Started reading a book

I’m a fan of tardy New Year’s resolutions, so here’s my first one: tumbl more. And, hey, look! I’m doing it!

Bauble Obsessed

Don’t remember exactly how it happened, but a month ago I discovered BaubleBar. Now I almost never spend monies on jewelry (mostly because I get preoccupied with skirts and shoes first), but this site may have changed everything. 

They have super cute jewelry and most of it is pretty affordable, which for me means like less than $40. Anyway, as soon as I discovered BaubleBar I fell in love with this Champagne Crystal Bib Necklace. Too cute for school. 

This necklace is everywhere, and I’d seen versions at Forever 21 and on a couple of my co-workers. My necklace is currently en route, and I’ve been obsessively tracking it on USPS. Hopefully it’ll be everything I’ve dreamed of, and I can begin to build up a decent jewelry arsenal with the help of BaubleBar

I’ve Been on a Lot of Bad Dates…

But I have never gotten a post-date email like this. Apparently this crazy ass was disappointed (to say the least!) that his date didn’t respond to his calls/texts after their night out. So he stalked her on Google, found her email address, and wrote this little gem. It has since gone viral. Lord help me, people are insane.

Hi Lauren,

I’m disappointed in you. I’m disappointed that I haven’t gotten a response to my voicemail and text messages. FYI, I suggest that you keep in mind that emails sound more impersonal, harsher, and are easier to misinterpret than in-person or phone communication. After all, people can’t see someone’s body language or tone of voice in an email. I’m not trying to be harsh, patronizing, or insulting in this email. I’m honest and direct by nature, and I’m going to be that way in this email. By the way, I did a google search, so that’s how I came across your email.

I assume that you no longer want to go out with me. (If you do want to go out with me, then you should let me know.) I suggest that you make a sincere apology to me for giving me mixed signals. I feel led on by you.

Things that happened during our date include, but are not limited to, the following:

-You played with your hair a lot. A woman playing with her hair is a common sign of flirtation. You can even do a google search on it. When a woman plays with her hair, she is preening. I’ve never had a date where a woman played with her hair as much as you did. In addition, it didn’t look like you were playing with your hair out of nervousness.

-We had lots of eye contact during our date. On a per-minute basis, I’ve never had as much eye contact during a date as I did with you.

-You said, “It was nice to meet you.” at the end of our date. A woman could say this statement as a way to show that she isn’t interested in seeing a man again or she could mean what she said—that it was nice to meet you. The statement, by itself, is inconclusive.

-We had a nice conversation over dinner. I don’t think I’m being delusional in saying this statement.

In my opinion, leading someone on (i.e., giving mixed signals) is impolite and immature. It’s bad to do that.

Normally, I would not be asking for information if a woman and I don’t go out again after a first date. However, in our case, I’m curious because I think our date went well and that there is a lot of potential for a serious relationship. Of course, it’s difficult to predict what would happen, but I think there is a lot of potential for a serious relationship developing between us one day (or least there was before your non-response to my voicemail and text messages).

I think we should go out on a second date. In my opinion, our first date was good enough to lead to a second date.

Why am I writing you? Well, hopefully, we will go out again. Even if we don’t, I gain utility from expressing my thoughts to you. In addition, even if you don’t want to go out again, I would like to get feedback as to why you wouldn’t want to go again. Normally, I wouldn’t ask a woman for this type of feedback after a first date, but this is an exception given I think we have a lot of potential.

If you don’t want to go again, then apparently you didn’t think our first date was good enough to lead to a second date. Dating or a relationship is not a Hollywood movie. It’s good to keep that in mind. In general, I thought the date went well and was expecting that we would go out on a second date.

If you’re not interested in going out again, then I would have preferred if you hadn’t given those mixed signals. I feel led on. We have a number of things in common. I’ll name a few things: First, we’ve both very intelligent. Second, we both like classical music so much that we go to classical music performances by ourselves. In fact, the number one interest that I would want to have in common with a woman with whom I’m in a relationship is a liking of classical music. I wouldn’t be seriously involved with a woman if she didn’t like classical music. You said that you’re planning to go the NY Philharmonic more often in the future.

As I said, I go to the NY Philharmonic often. You’re very busy. It would be very convenient for you to date me because we have the same interests. We already go to classical music performances by ourselves. If we go to classical music performances together, it wouldn’t take any significant additional time on your part. According to the internet, you’re 33 or 32, so, at least from my point of view, we’re a good match in terms of age. I could name more things that we have in common, but I’ll stop here. I don’t understand why you apparently don’t want to go out with me again. We have numerous things in common. I assume that you find me physically attractive. If you didn’t find me physically attractive, then it would have been irrational for you to go out with me in the first place. After all, our first date was not a blind date. You already knew what I looked like before our date. Perhaps, you’re unimpressed that I manage my family’s investments and my own investments. Perhaps, you don’t think I have a “real” job. Well, I’ve done very well as an investment manager. I’ve made my parents several millions of dollars.

That’s real money. That’s not monopoly money. In my opinion, if I make real money, it’s a real job. Donald Trump’s children work for his company. Do they have “real” jobs? I think so. George Soros’s sons help manage their family investments. Do they have “real” jobs? I think so. In addition, I’m both a right-brain and left-brain man, given that I’m both an investment manager and a philosopher/writer. That’s a unique characteristic; most people aren’t like that. I’ve never been as disappointed and sad about having difficulty about getting a second date as I am with you. I’ve gone out with a lot of women in my life. (FYI, I’m not a serial dater. Sometimes, I’ve only gone out with a woman for one date.) People don’t grow on trees. I hope you appreciate the potential we have.

Am I sensitive person? Sure, I am. I think it’s better to be sensitive than to be insensitive. There are too many impolite, insensitive people in the world.

I suggest that we continue to go out and see what happens. Needless to say, I find you less appealing now (given that you haven’t returned my messages) than I did at our first date. However, I would be willing to go out with you again. I’m open minded and flexible and am willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. I wish you would give me the benefit of the doubt too. If you don’t want to go out again, in my opinion, you would be making a big mistake, perhaps one of the biggest mistakes in your life. If you don’t want to go out again, then you should have called to tell me so. Even sending a text message would have been better than nothing. In my opinion, not responding to my messages is impolite, immature, passive aggressive, and cowardly. I spent time, effort, and money meeting you for dinner. Getting back to me in response to my messages would have been a reasonable thing for you to do. In addition, you arrived about 30 minutes late for our date. I’m sure you wouldn’t like it if a man showed up thirty minutes late for a first date with you.

If you’re concerned that you will hurt my feelings by providing specific information about why you don’t want to go with me again, well, my feeling are already hurt. I’m sad and disappointed about this situation. If you give information, at least I can understand the situation better. I might even learn something that is beneficial.

If you don’t want to go out again, that I request that you call me and make a sincere apology for leading me on (i.e., giving me mixed signals). In my opinion, you shouldn’t act that way toward a man and then not go out with him again. It’s bad to play with your hair so much and make so much eye contact if you’re not interested in going out with me again. I have tried to write this email well, but it’s not perfect. Again, I’m not trying to be harsh, insulting, patronizing, etc. I’m disappointed, sad, etc. I would like to talk to you on the phone. I hope you will call me back at xxx-xxx-xxxx> (if it’s inconvenient for you to talk on the phone when you read this email, you can let me know via email that you are willing to talk on the phone and I’ll call you). If you get my voicemail, you can a leave a message and I can call you back. Even if you don’t want to go out again, I would appreciate it if you give me the courtesy of calling me and talking to me. Yes, you might say things that hurt me, but my feelings are already hurt. Sending me an email response (instead of talking on the phone) would better than no response at all, but I think it would be better to talk on the phone. Email communication has too much potential for misinterpretation, etc.

Best, Mike

A Boy Has Never Made Me a Chair

This afternoon I went to see Like Crazy per my little sister’s recommendation. I was half expecting it to be a kinda “meh” movie about hipster lovebirds with quirky little idiosyncrasies. I was half proved wrong though because it turned out to be pretty solid.

There were some vom-worthy moments—like the books of memories she kept making, and how he was like crying the first time he read through one. And there were several obligatory “we’re-falling-in-love” and “we’re-drifting-apart” montages. But overall, the cinematography and exceptional acting kept even the mushiest moments charming and heartwarming. Also, shit was kept pretty real throughout the movie. Like almost a little Blue Valentine real.

So now here’s a few of my takeaways:

• Felicity Jones is insanely beautiful. I can’t even. She’s mesmerizing. 
• Anna is way too cute Jacob.
• I WANT ANNA’S HAIR IN THE OPENING CLASSROOM SCENE. It’s basically how I’ve always wanted my hair to look. And she did it. Except, in one scene you could totally see homegirl’s tracks, which makes me feel a little better.
• A boy has never made me a chair. I think I’ve gotten some cards and maybe a creepy book of poetry here and there, but a chair? I need to start dating carpenters.
• The scene when Jacob calls Anna from a bar while she’s in London is so painfully and perfectly done. Their exchange was incredibly on point and made the rest of the movie believable. Also, I may or may not have teared up.
• Both Anna and Jacob’s rebounds were way hotter than any I’ve ever had. I’d be like crazy jealous too.
• Don’t fuck with US immigration. Or else your life will be a sad, heartbroken mess.
• “Dead Hearts” was the perfect ending song. Love Stars. 
• Oh, and speaking of the ending… WHAAA??