Unpopular Opinions: I Don’t Understand The Butt Zeitgeist

Posted in Entertainment, GSOY (Gratuitous Story of Yourself), Miscellany by Molly

So. Kim Kardashian’s butt, huh?

That’s probably how most of your water cooler, bus stop, and family dinner conversations have started for the past few days. When I saw the #BreakTheInternet booty drop, my first thought was (with a sigh) “ugh, I guess we should probably cover that.”

I mean “cover” both in terms of writing about it, and in terms of “will somebody please put some pants or culottes or a skort or bloomers on that lady? Because we cannot publish that photo on our blog.”

Nobody can deny that the butt is having a moment. From Kim Kardashian to Nicki Minaj, from the new, reality TV judge version of J.Lo to that one Drake video, butts are everywhere. But get ready for an unpopular opinion: I just don’t find butts exciting. Pop culture blasphemy, I know.

Here’s the main thing I don’t get: everybody has a butt. Man or woman, child or elderly, famous or infamous, humans all have butts. Kim Kardashian has a butt? So did Richard Nixon. So does Barbara Walters. Shirley Temple had a butt her whole life, as did W.W.F. wrestler Yokozuna and artist/musician Yoko Ono. Are you sitting down to read this? Congratulations! You are sitting on your very own butt. If you are standing, stop and look behind you. Your butt is there, following wherever you go, like a loyal dog or Peter Pan’s shadow. In fact, when I think of the people who don’t have butts – twins conjoined back to back, people who are amputated at the waist – they are so rare that they are the interesting ones.

You might say “yeah, but Kim Kardashian and Nicki Minaj have amazing butts!” And to that I say this: I actually don’t know what a good butt is. Okay? It’s a personal blind spot. I have a friend who doesn’t know what it means when you say that food is stale. When everyone started griping about a stale box of crackers, she grabbed a few, trying to discern what we all meant. That’s how I feel about butts. Whenever someone says that a guy has a cute butt, I look it over, trying to figure out why. I ask questions like the youngest child at Butt Seder: “why is this butt different from all other butts?” For Kardashian, I guess it’s that her butt is above-average sized, but that alone doesn’t explain it. After all, didn’t ladies in old sitcoms bring their long-suffering husbands shopping to ask whether their butt looked big in those pants? There must be something else – a je ne sais butt – but that sounds like a lot of hot air (also delivering a lot of hot air: BUTTS. Remind me, again, why they’re appealing?)

Now, I don’t walk the earth ignorant of my own butt. I’ve even joked about printing up business cards reading “It’s an ass, not a conversation piece.” With maybe an asterisk leading to the back of the card: “* Unless I put a coffee table book or some modern art back there.” But it’s hard to get a good concept of your own posterior, and maybe next time I’ll press for details: “What sets my butt apart from the other butts that are also minding their own business at this bus stop?” I doubt I’d get a good answer, though, because anyone who strikes up a convo about a stranger’s butt is probably full of shit (also full of shit: BUTTS).

So here’s my final quibble with Butt Zeitgeist 2K14: butts are funny. They are – if anything – a comedy body part. Weird things and noises come out of them. Children laugh at them. For months, my nephews ran around saying “booty!” solely because it’s a funny word. [When my sister told her 5-year-old to cut it out, he said “what, mom? It’s just like boot.” Kiddo didn’t even know what it meant.] One time, a man hit on my friend by telling her she had a “great pooper.” That is funny. You know why mooning people was a trendy prank in the mid-20th century? Because it’s the world’s easiest sight gag. And the number of memes based on Kim Kardashian’s Paper Magazine cover prove that I’m not the only one who finds butts more hilarious than hot.

As a first grader, I remember mentally cataloging what the funniest body part was every year. In preschool, kids got a kick out of noses, because, you know, blowing your nose was still a triumph and a challenge at that point. In kindergarten, feet took the cake. But as a wise six-year-old, I knew that butts… butts reigned supreme.

And apparently, they still do.

6Nov2014

How to Cry in Public

Posted in GSOY (Gratuitous Story of Yourself), Miscellany by Molly

Everybody cries. And in our dog-eat-dog, overly connected world, everybody has probably cried in public. Whether it’s a rough day at work, a funeral, or something sneaking out of your memory and into your eyeholes at in inopportune time, it’s a simple fact of life. You don’t have to feel bad about it, but you do probably want to minimize the damage:

(1) Stop It Before It Starts

Yawn

It’s been proven … somewhere … that fake yawning can help prevent real crying.

Pinch The Bridge Of Your Nose

I have no support for this except that it occasionally works for me.

Breathe deeply and tap the tips of your fingers, rapidly and one at a time, to the tip of your thumb.

When I accidentally took a meditation class in law school (long story?) I learned that I cannot meditate – or think, really – while sitting still. My brain works best when I’m able to shut down part of it by focusing on physical movement. Walking is best, but if you’re stuck where you are, try rapidly drumming your fingers against your thumb. It keeps a tiny bit of your brain busy – if you’re lucky, the part that’s a newly-opening tear factory.

Try a crying mantra

Repeat a phrase over and over again to yourself, like “not now” or or “don’t think about it” – but don’t do it out loud. Better to be the person who is crying in public than the person reciting a crying mantra in public.

(2) Go To A Second Location

Make a quick exit to the bathroom.

People might think you’re crying, but they also might think you have diarrhea. That sounds like a lose-lose, but since they don’t see you cry, you can still remain a beautiful mystery.

Take a walk

If it’s a situation where it’s not weird for you to leave, get out of there and get moving. People may see you cry as you walk by, but you’re gone in a flash. Plus, movement helps your brain do something other than cry.

Assess your workplace cry-zones

Like kindergarteners making maps of their household fire plans during Fire Prevention Week, know your escape routes before an emergency arises.

Not every bathroom is a good crying bathroom. Some have too much traffic, or are single-stall deals that may leave you crying in the hallway while you wait for someone to finish their business. If so, excuse yourself to your work station (full disclosure: I have my own office, which basically means I am the person that the #blessed hashtag was created for. But it comes with its own crying perils: last month I had a street view of a police officer’s funeral. It was a 3-hanky day.). Once there, busy yourself. If you work in an office setting, maybe there is an empty conference room that you could weep in. Make sure that it’s empty first, though, because folks will remember the snot-faced person who barged into their meeting.

En route to your second location, carry your cell phone in full view.

Then instead of crying over something stupid, it becomes plausible that you just received bad news or have to make a rough phone call. People will be less likely to stop you.

(3) Create A Task

If you’re already in tear mode and haven’t been able to remove yourself from the situation, I want you to create something to do. This can busy your mind enough that the tears will go away. It can be a real task, like refilling snacks or cleaning up garbage at a party. It can also be an imaginary one, like counting mustaches at a funeral.

(4) Fix Your Face

Water yourself like the beautiful flower that you are

Cold water is your friend. Splash it on your face and into your eyeballs. This may wash off your makeup, but your makeup is already ruined unless you wore waterproof mascara (what, did you KNOW you were going to be crying today?).

Drink a lot of water, too: it’s good for your puffy skin and your tear-hangover.

Ice, Ice Baby

Get a cold soda can and press it against your face. You can also use an ice pack or frozen veggies if you have them. It will cool down and depuff your skin.

Your eyes are the windows to your soul and the whole world is full of peeping toms.

What I mean is, cover your eyes as you would a window you didn’t want people to look in. If you can’t wear sunglasses, try these:

Gently tap your undereye area and the corners of your eye with your fingertips.
Are you publicly crying in a place where you have access to milk? Soak a cotton ball or a balled-up tissue in it and leave it on your eyelids for a while.
If you have eye drops handy, use them.
Pop an anti-inflamatory. It might bring down your face-poof, but if not it will still help knock out your crying headache.

(5) Live To Cry Another Day

So, you cried in public. It’s fine. Anybody has a problem with that has a problem with the fact that you’re a human person with feelings and tear ducts. If anyone looked at you like you were crazy, it can be fun to craft crying revenge scenarios. If you are crying because someone honked at you, just imagine how dumb he would feel if he knew that your dog just died. And that snippy lady at that bank would sure feel cruddy if she realized that you just got dumped. Then, find something that always makes you happy, whether it’s a favorite funny movie or a friend who’s good at making you feel better. You may be a snot-faced tear factory, but so is almost everybody else.

Saturday Spotlight: National Chris Pratt Day??

5Nov2014

Things I’ve Cried About As An Adult

Posted in GSOY (Gratuitous Story of Yourself), Miscellany by Cookies + Sangria

“I didn’t know why I was going to cry, but I knew that if anybody spoke to me or looked at me too closely the tears would fly out of my eyes and the sobs would fly out of the throat and I’d cry for a week.” – Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

We’ve covered all the pop culture moments that have made us cry, where the best and worst places to cry are, and today we’re focusing on the real life things that can trigger a single tear or multiple tears, rather. Look, we’re technically adults here, but to be honest, we can be a bunch of crybabies. That’s right, we’re women who are in our late 20s (ughh) who have a lot of feelings that are best treated with physically letting them go through the magic of tears.

For every legitimate reason for crying (death, break-up, etc.) there’a an equal and opposite stupid reason (forgetting the coffee you made on the counter before leaving for work). We’re here to assure you that our tears know no bounds, and if you think your emotions can’t be kept at bay, you’re not the only one. Here are just a few incidents that have made us cry – as grown ass adults.

Someone told me my shoe was untied (one of those weeks where you feel like everything is against you, from your own shoelaces to the stranger who doesn’t want you to trip).
That time my car broke down on the way to meet my friend for lunch.
Someone at the gym tried to tell me how to use the bicep curl machine (I already knew how to use it, but I’m also noticing that I don’t take correction well.)
My roommates being just annoying enough that makes me want to punch a wall, but not annoying to the point where I hate them.
I went to church wearing my normal face, and a stranger hugged me because he said I “looked like I could use a hug.” Apparently, what I could use is a different face.
Anytime a wife/husband is surprised by their spouse who is supposed to be in the military overseas.
Listening to people sing harmonies live. Like this song from Once the Musical.
Imagined scenarios. ALL THE TIME.
Every children’s Christmas pageant I have ever seen.
The part at my church’s Christmas Eve candlelight service when they turn off the lights and only the candles everyone’s holding fill the sanctuary with light while everyone sings Silent Night.
Dreams. Sometimes I wake up with a tear-puddle.
There were no dresses in my size.
My dad giving me $20 ‘just in case’. Which then leads into the ‘when am I ever going to have enough money’ downward spiral.
Old men dining alone. Though if I were an old man dining alone I’d probably just be like “yeah, I was hungry, what?”
Seeing an old couple still in love.
That old guy who carried a photo of his late wife with him everywhere he goes, even an In-N-Out.
Any time I think about people who don’t have any friends or family: another imagination-based cry.
When my computer is so slow that I literally cannot get any of my work done and then the blue screen comes up.
A cassette of me saying nursery rhymes and talking when I was one. You could have fit my voice in a thimble.
An old lady was really dressed up.
Pretty much any time a grown man breaks down and cries.
My nephew went crazy over a Caillou doll I got him for his birthday. Then I pictured him being embarrassed about what a “baby” he was when he gets older and I wanted him to stay a 2-year-old for another decade at least.
I forgot to put a mug under the Keurig.
I forgot to bring my travel mug with me before work and now it’s just sitting on the counter waiting to be consumed.
I took an accidental selfie while checking my phone. My face, when I haven’t prepped it for a camera or mirror? Oooh shit. Actual tears.
That time Wendy Davis supporters filled the Texas State Capitol.
When I see a picture of carefree, young, happy people from 80+ years ago. They’re all dead now and even long lives are short.
They cut my hair too short.
They didn’t cut my hair short enough and I was too afraid/lazy to ask them to fix it
Anytime the thought of conflict comes up.
Anytime the thought of being alone for the rest of my life comes up.
I stopped to let a car make a left into his driveway. He honked at me to keep going instead. My dog had died that day and I crafted revenge scenarios where he found out my dog had just died then felt real assy. Who honks at a nice driver with a recently dead dog?
Speaking of the dead dog, no one mentioned it to my out-of-town nieces and nephews. A year later, my brother had his dog over (who looked nothing like Dead Galway but kids are dumb). My visiting nephew, who we thought had forgotten Dead Galway, squeeled “oh, Aunt Molly! You got him back!” That was a heavy laugh over the top of a light cry.

4Nov2014

Pop Culture Moments That Make Me Cry

Posted in Entertainment, GSOY (Gratuitous Story of Yourself), Miscellany by Cookies + Sangria

Some pop culture moments are engineered to make you cry. Any time they show you an old man who is alone, or a beloved dog bravely facing his mortality, you know they’re trying to make you bawl.

Others aren’t supposed to be sad, but for some reason they grab onto your feelings and twist them until your eyes water. For instance: any time a child sings and it’s very beautiful.

Then there are those moments that were meant to be sad, but came out hilarious instead. I present for your approval:

This is the rare tearjerker scene that makes us weep – because we’re laughing so hard. So with Dawson Leery as our patron saint of pop culture crying, we’re listing those moments in entertainment that brought us to tears. Our scale stretches from one Crying Dawson (your eyes are lightly watering, but there’s no real tearstorm) to five Crying Dawsons (or as we like to call it, a Full Leery). And disclaimer: there will be spoilers ahead. Consider yourself warned.

One Crying Dawson

The final, heartrending scenes of The Notebook. And I’m only putting it here because zero crying Dawsons wasn’t an option. I’m a monster, I know.
The end of Bridesmaids where Maya gives one last glance back at Kristen before she gets in the limo with her new husband. There’s an unspoken understanding between two best friends that just gets me.
Any time an actor/actress that is announcing Emmy/Oscar/Golden Globe nominations at the asscrack of dawn, only to announce their own name as one of the nominees.
Cyrus realizing he was the reason his hubs got killed on Scandal. You brought it on yourself dude.
When Little Michael Scott wants to grow up and have 100 kids so he can have 100 friends and no one can say no to being his friend.
The end of City Lights (taking it way back to the 1930s here!), when the blind girl sees the tramp for the first time.
When Mary is sort of mean to Martha in A Secret Garden but it’s because she doesn’t know how to play or love and her parents are dead and she lives in a creepy house in the middle of nowhere.
The “Love Is A Dream” sketch with Phil Hartman and Jan Hooks, serving the one-two punch of old people thinking about their youth, and people who died before their time.
When the now-elderly Peaches take a team picture and sing their song one last time in A League Of Their Own.
In The Great Gatsby, both the book and film adaptations, when Daisy delivers the “beautiful fool” line. Gut punch.

Two Crying Dawsons

When Papouli taught us about Greek dance, the love of family, and brief character arcs on Full House.
The look on Louis’ face when his daughter plays the violin duet with the neighbor on Louie.
The episode of The Simpsons where Homer gets the crayon lodged in his brain removed and suddenly becomes smart. At the end Lisa reads a letter he wrote her from before he got dumb again and it was the first time anyone in her family understood her.
Also, after Maggie is born and Homer goes back to work at the plant, he covers the mean plaque from Burns “Don’t Forget, You’re Here Forever” with her pictures so that it now reads “Do it for her.”
When Brian Williams reported on the NBC Nightly News that his daughter Allison Williams had been cast in the live version of Peter Pan. No matter what you think about the casting decision itself, you have no soul if you don’t get emotional watching him be so proud of his daughter.
Mr. Feeny dismissing class one final time.
Jen Lindley’s final conversation with Jack. And TBH, I might have cried more when Jack and Dougie declared their commitment to each other on the beach.
When Will believes his father isn’t going to leave him again on Fresh Prince of Bel-Air but Pops lets him down again, and Will breaks down in the arms of Uncle Phil asking why his dad doesn’t want him.
The voiceover at the end of The Time Travelers episode of How I Met Your Mother, when Future Ted says that he wants 45 extra days with The Mother… probably because at that point I had a pretty good idea of what that darn show was going to do to us.
Leslie saying goodbye to Ann on Parks and Rec. Uteruses before duderuses.
When Mel Gibson is getting ready to leave in The Patriot, and his mute daughter runs after him screaming “I’ll say anything!” Doubly so now that she’s passed away.

Three Crying Dawsons

The final moments of that old dog in Homeward Bound.
The Muppets (2012), just in general. It made both of us cry and neither of us knows why.
Jessie singing When Somebody Loved Me in Toy Story 2.
The little girl singing Desperado in In America.
I was in a hotel a few months ago and came across a documentary on like the Travel Channel or something that was about the new Diagon Alley attraction in Harry Potter World at Universal Studios Orlando, and the planning, construction and attention to detail that went into it before they opened the doors. Before opening it to the public, a select group of young HP fans were let into the park as a sneak peak and the look of awe was astounding. I can’t imagine being a kid, being obsessed with the books & movies and finally being in Diagon Alley for real.
In what is one of my favorite dances over all the seasons of So You Think You Can Dance, golden child Travis Wall choreographed an emotional contemporary (and Emmy nominated) piece to Coldplay’s Fix You, a dance based on his own experience of helping his mom through her bout with cancer. While Fix You is always a tearjerker, add on the brilliant dancing by Robert Roldan and Allison Holker and you have a piece of pure art that will leave you breathless.
Speaking of SYTYCD, season 11’s Ricky Ubeda was one of those winners who actually deserved the victory, thanks to his combination of talent and personality. But during Hollywood week, it was his solo that made me (and a lot of other viewers) single him out from the crowd, thanks to vulnerability and emotion he brought to the dance.
Lily telling Marshall his dad died on How I Met Your Mother.
The final scene in Friends when they all walk out of Monica & Chandler’s to go to Central Perk and there’s one final sweep of the empty apartment with swelling music in the background.

Four Crying Dawsons

Carrie Underwood singing. Pretty much singing anything. Especially if it’s live. I’ve seen her in concert three times and every single time I was brought to tears. She sings with such passion and conviction. And if she’s singing any kind of religious song, you know she’s channeling the big JC, making her voice even more powerful for some reason.
The scene in both the book and movie version of The Fault in our Stars where Hazel is giving the ‘eulogy’ for Gus in the church.
The Normal Heart. All of it.
Friday Night Lights – pretty much the entire show. However, I’ll pinpoint one that stands out, which is when Coach throws Matt Saracen into the shower, but QB1 breaks down, insisting that his loved ones always abandon him. And to continue this Zach Gilford lovefest, the entire episode of The Son is heartwrenching, but I won’t ruin it for you if you haven’t seen it.
Call it the Jason Katims effect because Parenthood also makes me cry during every episode, no matter what. Again, it’s hard to pick just one, so the scene where Kristina tells the family that she has cancer – a scene so powerful with no words at all. This current season hasn’t been lucky for Zeek, and because of personal reasons, I’ve found his storyline extremely upsetting. Also Mae Whitman crying. Legit the best crier in the biz.
The series finale of Gilmore Girls in which Rory assures Lorelai that she’s “already given her everything she needs” before she goes on the road following Senator Barack Obama. In fact the final like 20 minutes of that show including Rory’s speech under the tent make me cry so hard that I’ve only watched the finale approx thrice, as opposed to like the 30 times for all the other episodes.
The finale of I ❤ Nick Carter where he and Lauren get married. Legit stayed up til 4am watching it and it was totally worth it. His family sucks but good thing they have the rest of BSB and other friends and family – that’s what got me.
Jim Halpert learning he and Pam are having a baby after she injures herself at the company picnic. The whole office singing Seasons of Love to Michael on his last episode. The ‘Forever’ flash mob at Jim & Pam’s wedding and them getting married on the Maid of the Mist and Jim cutting off his tie. The entire series finale. I had a hard time saying goodbye to The Office.
The first 5-ish minutes of Up.
When Mary and Edith realize that they’re the only ones left after Sybil dies.
I was never big into Buffy, but that scene where Buffy tells Dawn that their mom has died, and you’re watching it through the window of her classroom? Nope.
DOBBY. RIP.

Five Crying Dawsons

The Quarterback episode of Glee where Finn (Cory Monteith) dies. I literally went through almost an entire box of tissues during that and I’m not even a huge Glee fan. The pain on everyone’s face was real, and watching Lea Michele sing – forget it.
The end of The Best Man Holiday – what in the fuck was that all about?! I paid $15 to see Taye Diggs and his fellow HBM co-stars possibly take their clothes off and it turned out that I needed extra sleeves because my tears and snot were all over the shirt I went in with.
Right before Leslie and Ben get married, when she’s talking with Ron in the hallway. I’m a wedding crier anyway, but jeez.
In Little Women, when Jo is going through the trunk in the attic after Beth has died (note: Beth’s death gets knocked down to 4 Crying Dawsons because of the weird brogue Claire Danes starts speaking in).
Everything that happens after Sara Crewe goes to live in the attic in A Little Princess. This is the second Frances Hodgson Burnett appearance on this list so I hope wherever she is, she’s proud of her vast legacy of children’s tears.
The funeral scene in Philadelphia, when they show the home movies of Beckett as a kid with his mom.
Good Will Hunting: 4 words – “It’s not your fault.”
My Girl: 6 words – “He can’t see without his glasses!”
Dead Poets Society: 4 words – “O Captain! My Captain!”

3Nov2014

Break It Down: The Best and Worst Places To Cry

Posted in GSOY (Gratuitous Story of Yourself), Miscellany by Traci

Let’s get one thing out of the way: if you’re reading this blog and are subconsciously (or consciously) thinking that crying is for wusses, get out right now. Every human being does it. There shouldn’t be a negative stigma around it. Even the manliest men on the earth cry. Just look at Ron Swanson. Crying is good for you. Crying relieves stress. Seriously, it’s scientifically proven that it lowers blood pressure, removes toxins from your body and boosts your mood immediately afterward. So if you’re a Negative Nancy and think crying is below you, come back next week when we return to our regularly scheduled pop culture programming.

Now that that’s out of the way, we welcome you to a whole week about allowing your emotions to take over and letting it all out with tears. Sometimes you find yourself in need of a good cry, other times you can’t help the spontaneous tears from flowing. I myself am a crier. I cry at pretty much anything that will make me feel feels. If it’s sad, if it’s happy, if there’s a really good four-part harmony, I will shed all the tears.

So given I’ve had my fair share of crying everywhere, there are some places that are prime for breaking down, and others that are not as ideal. Here are just a few locations I’ve had good and bad luck with letting my emotions out. What are some of your favorite/least fave places to let it goooo?

Best: Your Own Bedroom

When I moved to LA approx five years ago, the first week or so was focused on finding an apartment and job. The excitement of being in a city for the first time as a resident was exhilarating, but the moment that harsh reality of realizing I had just moved 3,000 miles away from my friends and family hit me like a ton of bricks. I distinctly remember being on the phone with my friend Brian while he was at some party with all our friends/co-workers in Boston, and I felt a mixture of happiness hearing their voices but also jealousy and, yup, homesickness, that washed over me. After I hung up with him, I went into my bedroom with all my newly constructed Ikea furniture and plopped face down on my bed and sobbed. I put on my favorite crying music (which you’ll hear about later on in the week) and made so much noise while trying to breath through the snot. I’m pretty sure my roommates could hear me, so thanks M & R for letting me grieve alone in my dark bedroom. That must have been a little awk. Crying by yourself is the key to a good session like 90% of the time, and there’s no better place than the privacy of your own bed to do so.

Worst: While Operating A Vehicle

Ok to clarify, the key word here is *operating*. I am such a huge proponent of crying in your car. One time I didn’t feel like being in my room so I got in my car and drove around crying and ended up getting a burger to sop up all my tears. But here’s the bottom line – crying while trying to drive does not only put you in danger of getting in an accident but all the other folks on the road too. But you knew that. I’m not trying to be patronizing, but my point is that if you’re gonna cry in your car, do it while parked. Preferably with torrential rain outside while you play All By Myself on your CD player.

Best: The Shower/Bathroom

Again, crying by yourself is great. It gives you time to think about your situation, and when you’re already in a confined space in which your showerhead is already crying on you, it’s ideal.

Worst: Your Desk At Work

We will talk about crying at work later in the week, because both of us have done it. But who hasn’t? I’ve cried at work in a bathroom stall, but I’ve unfortunately had the unpleasant experience of crying at my desk. In front of my boss. Luckily, he was pretty lax and understanding about it, but if it was a more formal setting, that wouldn’t have been good. If you’re going to Robin Scherbatsky it and cry under your desk with a wine bottle, just make sure no one else is around (NOBODY ASKED YOU, PATRICE!).

Best: A Friend’s/Significant Other’s Couch

So if 90% of crying sessions are best by yourself, obviously the other 10 are with a crying companion. I am an only child who is very independent and enjoys being alone most of the time, so I don’t find myself utilizing this particular one a lot, but I hear it works for people who are much more sociable than I. Yay friendship!

Worst: At A Party In Front Of Everyone

You know ~~when you’re at a party~~ when you were at those college parties and there was the super drunk girl who either got in a fight with her boyfriend or the friends she came with and broke down in the kitchen? Yeah, don’t be that girl/guy. If you find yourself in desperate need of letting out some tears, go to the bathroom or a secluded area and do the deed there.

Best: The Floor

I don’t know about you guys, but sometimes I just like laying on the floor. It provides for a different view from like the couch or the bed, and I feel like I can just spread out and do my thing. Much like Jessica Day in that GIF, I enjoy a good cry on the floor with used tissues surrounding me.

Best: Movie Theater

Ideal situation: going to see a super sad movie by yourself, with a bucket of popcorn and alcoholic drink if you’re at one of those theaters, and all the napkins to dry up both your real tears and the ones caused by Nicholas Sparks (I’m assuming).

Worst: Public Transportation

Just, don’t do it. It’s awkward and then this picture will show up on Reddit and you will became a viral internet sensation.

7Oct2014

The Circus Gives Me The Willies

Posted in Entertainment, GSOY (Gratuitous Story of Yourself), Miscellany by Molly

The next season of American Horror Story premieres tomorrow, and it’s set at a 1950s freak show. Now, that show has some great writing and stellar acting, but freak show? Like a circus, but worse? It doesn’t even take a good show to make that scary – you could take a straight-up camcorder to Barnum and Bailey’s, record everything as it happens, and I’d still get the creeps.

Like every normal and decent person, the circus gives me the willies. How could it not?

I don’t remember much that happened at the circus the first time I went, but I remember the feeling. Like the first time you try hard liquor or watch a Tarantino movie (just me?), it was a mix of disappointment, confusion, and more than a little judgment: “Am I supposed to like this? Does anyone?”

The main problem with the circus, of course, is clowns. I discovered this early on. During my early childhood my sister had a clown doll, even though she seems better than the kind of person who would own a clown doll. When the neighborhood boys used it as a prop in a movie about evil toys that come to life, and they broke it by punching it repeatedly in its stupid, leering plastic face, I didn’t lose any sleep over it. Or rather I DID lose sleep, but only because if any toy would rise from the garbage dump, find its way back to my house, and go Chuckie on my entire family as we slept, it would have been that damn clown doll.

“I hate you and don’t want you to be happy” – anyone who would give this to a child

Well into my teen years, my oldest brother would walk past my open bedroom door, and if I was reading quietly or doing my homework, he would fix his face into a wide, open-grinned clown’s smile, go dead behind the eyes, and sing that horrible circus song all slow and drawn-out, like a haunted record. You know the one, it’s like the theme song to nightmares: doo-doo-doodle-oodle ooo-doo-doo.

As an 8-year-old who was equally into comedy and yesteryear – I blame Little Women and ’90s Comedy Central standup – I remember pondering what people used to think was funny in olden times. I hardcore puzzled over it, until deciding in a moment of clarity that it was probably, like, people falling down and stuff. One day, I even asked my mother what people thought was funny before t.v. “I don’t know, probably clowns, right?,” she answered.

I wasn’t sure whether to stop trusting my own mother, people from the 1800s, or both. Because creepiness aside, clowns aren’t even funny. Sure, their faces are plastered into motionless, permanent happiness and surprise – but so are the Real Housewives, and nobody thinks they’re funny. At least not intentionally. And they can blow up balloons? So can the pimply teen who works at your nearest Party City, but the teen will not haunt your nightmares besides. I can’t even think of what else clowns do. Pile too many people into one car? Wear weird clothing that I don’t quite understand? Display boundless energy? Groups of teen girls do all of those things – and while we’re at it, I’m actually terrified of groups of teen girls, too.

What’s worse is, clowns aren’t just at the circus. Did you know that some mega-churches have “clown ministries?” (Mega churches are like regular churches, but with big projection screens, way more merch, and sometimes they sell smoothies: so basically, the circus of churches). If you ever want to teach your child that religion is a joke that isn’t funny, drop them off at clown ministry while you guzzle lattes at the megachurch cafe. If my parents had taken me to clown ministry, I would have bowed out of organized religion before I hit second grade.

NOPE.

Clowns aren’t the only bad thing about the circus. The overall ambiance is just scuzzy. Whether you go to a circus in a large arena like I did, or in a tent like cute people from olden times, it somehow manages to seem dirty and – even though the whole point of the circus is that it rolls from town to town – like it’s been there forever. The circus looks like it would smell like baseball field dust-dirt, ground-up peanut shells, and cigarette butts.

And that’s before you even into the (non-clown) entertainment. Most circuses are lorded over by a megalomaniac svengali in striped pants, a top hat, and sequins – the ringmaster. This a-hole tells you where to look, what to do, and is second only to clowns in creepyness. The second Google suggestion for ringmaster is “evil.” The first is ICP, and as fascinated as I am by the informercials for the Gathering of the Juggalos, that doesn’t exactly say “family fun.” If the theme song to nightmares is that circus music box song, and the villain is clowns, then the narrator is the ringmaster, like an evil Kevin Arnold.

I’m not even going to get into it, but the animals at the circus aren’t doing awesome, either. No beautiful, majestic living thing should be forced to live and travel with clowns. That’s just cruel.

What’s left. Acrobats? Acrobats are okay, I guess. They’re talented and they work hard, and that’s great. But at the same time I’m pretty bendy but you don’t see me wearing head-to-toe Lycra and gallivanting with clowns and ringmasters. Tightrope acts and trapeze artists are cool, I suppose, but at the end of the day they are athletic, coordinated adults hanging out on playground equipment and I don’t need to pay $25 to see that. And that’s before buying a glow necklace, popcorn, circus peanuts … oh yeah, circus peanuts. Blech.

Of course, modern circuses don’t even have the most terrifying part of the spectacle: the freak show. This scene, permanently burned into my brain, suggests that they were horrifying:

I will be tuning into AHS tomorrow, and I expect that it will have my pants scared off. Not because the show always is right on the line of “can’t stop watching” and “can’t bear to look at this” – though it is – but because even without two-headed girls and bearded ladies, the circus gives me the willies.

8Sep2014

Orientation Express: Revisiting College Move-In Day 10 Years Later

Posted in GSOY (Gratuitous Story of Yourself), Miscellany by Traci

By now, most kids are back in the school routine and still in the honeymoon period of getting to see friends, being in a higher grade, and brand new school supplies (just me?). With this new school year starting, I’ve been reminded that it’s been a whole DECADE since I began a whole new experience in college. Yiiikes.

Earlier this year, we spent a whole week reminiscing about our high school experience, but anyone who’s been to college knows that it’s a whole different beast than anything you’ve ever encountered in your previous 18 years of living. Whether you stay in your hometown, move to a different region of your state, or go across country, every freshman still gets that ‘Holy crap what am I getting myself into can I even handle this level of responsibility’ feeling on the first day they move into college.

For me, it was a unique experience to say the least. My parents and I loaded up our rental van and drove from Rochester to Boston with all my crap in the back. Here’s a thing to know about the college I went to: it’s right in the middle of the city. Like the “campus” is blocks of downtown Boston. This was the view from the building I lived in my freshman and sophomore years.

With that in mind, moving about 900 students in on a busy Boston street is no easy feat. A lane of traffic has to be used specifically for freshman, and it has to be done very promptly and efficiently to keep the flow of traffic moving. I remember we pulled up to the building that was soon to be my home for the next 2 years, and looked out the car window to see (and hear) a bunch of screaming, enthusiastic college kids wearing the same shirt and for some reason, were really excited to see my car pull up. After a few admin tasks were completed, I vividly remember the very first moment I stepped out of the car and the important girl with the headset said, “Everyone welcome Traci to Emerson!” and a group of about 15 crazy people said “WELCOME TRACI” and cheered and yelled and started stealing my stuff. No, really. Well okay, they were taking everything out of our car, placing it in carts, and hauling it up to my dorm room so I would barely have to touch a thing (I didn’t lift a single item. It was the greatest).

Me, when first getting to my dorm on move-in day

The kids in the shirts, I would later find out were “OLs”, short for Orientation Leaders, made up of Sophomore, Junior and Senior volunteers who have a lot of Dunkin Donuts coffee and glitter running through their veins. In more recent years, the OLs have taken to dressing up in colorful outfits to, I don’t know, make the freshman feel more welcome? There’s really no way to accurately describe the shock when it comes to the very first moments of move-in day, so here’s a video instead. Also take note of the dad at 1:18.

The rest of orientation week was filled with icebreaker games (THE ABSOLUTE WORST) at this event called Hooray!, a guy nicknamed the “Dating Doctor” who talked about dating and sex, and as a girl coming from a Catholic education for all the previous years of my life, this was quite a change. There was a boat cruise, an epic dance where all the OLs dressed up in various costumes and busted moves along to popular songs of 2004 (similar to this, but imagine it being 10 years ago), and this 1980s safety video for everyone that had never lived in a city before. Honestly, they showed this, and in my opinion, it’s the greatest tradition our college has. A Bahston cop, dramatic reenactments, horrible acting, I mean, really.

“ATMs: probably the greatest invention ever to exist.”

In the end, Orientation week was a good way to transition into college life and not feel so scared about the daunting task of “being in college”. So for you freshman out there who still feel scared or uneasy about your new life, just know that the next four (or five or eight+, depending on the interest in furthering your education or level of long-term commitment) years of your life will be some of the greatest you’ll ever have. You’ll make lifelong friends, you’ll learn things about yourself, about others, about LIFE. Just enjoy yourself. If those crazy OLs can let go of their inhibitions and wear tutus and banana costumes on the streets of Boston, you can make it through your freshman year.

PS: Please tell me our school wasn’t the only one with eccentric move-in/orientation events! Did any of you guys have a similar or horrible experience?

5Aug2014

I’m Overly Emotional About Chris Pratt

Posted in Entertainment, GSOY (Gratuitous Story of Yourself) by Traci

Earlier this year, Chris Pratt was a guest on one of the final Late Night with Jimmy Fallon episodes before he took over The Tonight Show, and Pratt told the story of the first time they met. When he was first starting out in the business, Pratt got nominated for a Teen Choice Award – and lost – but he also presented a surfboard and did a comedy bit that he didn’t think went over too well. A justifiably disappointed Pratt ran into Jimmy backstage, and Jimmy told him, ‘Great job, man. You were really funny tonight’.

Pratt admitted that the moment meant so much to him since the compliment came from one of the best comedians around and Jimbo cheered him up despite the fact he bombed on stage. He then said something that has stuck with me ever since, and maybe made me (and Jimmy) cry a little. He told Jimmy, “I think you deserve all your success because you were nice to me and nice people deserve success.”

It’s so simple but it’s so true. If you put positive energy and good vibes into the world, it will surely come back to you. And that’s why I’m weirdly proud and happy for Chris Pratt becoming a huge movie star.

Let’s get this out there first – I’m obviously not friends with Pratt IRL. I’m just a Parks and Recreation fan who, like many other fans of the show, have watched this guy turn into a literal superhero. His comedic timing and delivery on Parks has always been on point, and creator Mike Schur will even tell you that Pratt is one of the best improvisers on the show – and this show stars Amy Poehler.

When Pratt got cast in Moneyball, it was exciting for me as a fan to see him in this Oscar-nominated film with BRAD PITT. I mean he was sitting next to Brad in a joint interview on Ellen and I was like – CHRIS PRATT – OF EVERWOOD AND THE OC AND FRIGGIN ANDY DWYER IS SITTING IN BETWEEN ELLEN DEGENERES AND BRAD PITT!!! Crazypants. Then he went on to star in two more Oscar-nominated films, Zero Dark Thirty and Her, and I still got a weird feeling of pride, it was like witnessing a friend on the verge of superstardom.

So in 2011, I went to a TV Academy event for Parks and Rec, where they screen an episode and most of the cast is there to talk about the show and convince Academy members to vote for them in the Emmys. After the panel, the actors usually stick around to take pix and and sign autographs for the fans, and that, kids, is how I met Chris Pratt.

I usually prep myself with like one thing to tell celebs when I meet them, and my point of discussion with Pratt was that I was looking forward to seeing the film What’s Your Number, which he filmed in Boston (seriously guys, I love that movie. Half-naked Chris Evans? What’s not to love?). I told him I went to school there and he started going on and on about how he loved Boston and how excited he was for the movie, and just conversing with me as if we were having a coffee date. I was thinking in my head, ‘Um, there is LIT’RALLY a line of people waiting to take a pic with you, but you just want to chat with me forever? Okay.’ He was so down to earth, and legit one of, if not the nicest, celebrities I’ve ever met, and I will always remember that about him.

Fast forward to present day, where Chris Pratt, a super jacked, funny and charming motherfucker is seemingly everywhere thanks to Guardians of the Galaxy. To many who didn’t know him before the lead in Marvel’s latest film, it was like he became an overnight sensation. I mean it made $160 million in the worldwide box office – that’s a lot of people who have seen Pratt’s abs and had no idea he looked like this at one point:

This one role has made him a MOVIE STAR in every sense of the word, and next year, I’m assuming he’ll become even bigger thanks to Jurassic World. And then, you know, the GotG sequel, etc. etc.

But one thing for sure is that fame won’t get to his head. He hasn’t let it so far and I don’t think he ever will. In all his interviews over the past few weeks, you can tell he’s still the same guy that started out as Bright Abbott or the lovable golden labrador retriever that is Andy Dwyer. He knows how lucky he is to go from living in a van in Hawaii to eventually becoming Star Lord. He can dominate a red (blue) carpet one day

and be extremely happy his wife is making him tater tots the next.

So seeing Pratt receive all this attention and acclaim has kind of made me (irrationally?) emotional for someone I just met once. But doesn’t that say something in and of itself? That a 2 minute interaction would have such an impact on a fan that it makes her tear up when he gets a rousing round of applause as walks on stage for an interview with Letterman? Maybe I’m too emotional or maybe I’m too obsessed with Parks, but I believe that this is just the beginning of Chris Pratt’s long, successful career. He deserves all his success because he was so nice to me and nice people deserve success.

1Aug2014

Camp Cookies + Sangria: This One Time, At College Camp

Posted in GSOY (Gratuitous Story of Yourself), Miscellany by Traci

Here’s the cold hard truth about getting older – you default to lying only because you can’t remember. “Were you the one telling me about all your horrible birthdays? And how you think they’re ‘cursed’?” “Yeah, that was me… No wait, that’s not true. That’s Penny from Happy Endings. My birthdays are fine.”

For our summer series, we’ve talked about how we never got to go to camp as a kid – and that’s a lie. I’ve been to camp. I went to sleepaway camp for exactly one week when I was maybe 12 years old and that was it. Never went to summer camp again. I think the reason I always forget it happened was because the whole thing didn’t feel real and it was just a tiny blip in my life. Like the day I spelled ‘architect’ wrong in my 6th grade spelling bee was more memorable than my entire week at camp. Let me explain.

I went to a camp called Mindstretchers which was located at Keuka College in the tiny hamlet of Keuka Park, New York, right on the Finger Lakes (there are a bunch of lakes that look like fingers from afar, I realize how weird this sounds if you didn’t grow up in upstate NY). It was approximately an hour away from our hometown of Rochester, so it wasn’t too far that I felt like I was going on some big adventure.

I guess I always wanted to go to camp, because that’s what the cool kids did, like Lindsay Lohan on The Parent Trap, but my parents were never into it until the one year I guess they just got sick of me. But like I mentioned, this camp was at a college. I didn’t actually get that Parent Trap or Salute Your Shorts experience I had envisioned. This was like, kind of smart camp? I mean, imagine you’re like 12 years old and you get to spend a week at a sprawling campus – living in DORM ROOMS!! Shared bathrooms! Living the life, y’all.

i’m not pictured in this photo, fyi

So here we were, just a group of kids between the ages of 10 to 15 at this camp called Mindstretchers, which BTW, according to one internet poster, is described as a “camp for creative thinking and writing”. They’re not too far off. Also of note – I went to this camp so long ago, that there’s BARELY anything on the internet about it, except some dude who created a FortuneCity homepage in like ’98 and posted pix of “me and my friends at Mindstretchers camp”. Basically, I went to a nerdy camp at a college, and it explains a lot about me as an adult.

Prior to attending the camp, we had to sign up for three “classes” we would take throughout each day. One academic, one artistic, and one athletic. Here’s what I chose:

Psychology Class

legit got this from the keuka college website under the pyschology dept page. is freud all they teach there?

It was my first taste of what a real college class would be like, and I’m pretty sure it was taught by one of the poor professors who basically just needed extra money. I’m sure he wanted to take the summer off like a normal teacher. I remember this is where I first learned about Freud and the Id and anal personalities and whatnot. Something I carry with me to this day.

Acting Class

this is NOT from Mindstretchers, nor do I know these kids, so yeah, it’s a little creepy I’m using their pic

Honestly, acting class was the highlight of my day, even though we had to do those stupid circle acting exercises and icebreakers. But I was into it. Our class took place in the college’s gym, and there may or may not have been one of those multi-colored parachutes involved. I’m starting to regret not going to an all out theater camp…

Soccer

Let’s be real – I am NOT the athletic type. I was forced to pick a sport and I picked the least offensive one, based purely on the fact that one of my best friends at the time was like a superstar soccer player. First day, I was legit the only one not only without shin guards, but without cleats – I HAD PINK AND GREEN ROO SNEAKERS. So embarrassing. To me, it seemed like all the kids were friggin Bend It Like Beckham and I was Posh Spice trying to keep up. The Worst.

We even had all our meals in a dining hall. For some reason, the walk from the dorm to the dining hall always made me feel like I was an adult – an adult in college, and I felt so cool. To clarify – I was not.

Looking back, my experience at summer camp was actually more of “traditional college” experience than my actual college one. At Mindstretchers, I took a psychology class where I learned about Freud, as opposed to my real college experience, where I wrote an entire final paper about stereotypes found in MTV’s The Real World. But also, the more I think about it, Mindstretchers maybe was just a giant ploy on behalf of the Keuka College Admissions team, attempting to lure impressionable kids with memories of summer camp in order to go to college there for real when the time came. Ugh, adults. This is all to say that it’s not like I didn’t have a good time at the camp, it was just … a thing I did one time that I never did again. That is if I remembered correctly.

11Jul2014

My Secret Mormon Mommy Blogger Fantasy Life

Posted in GSOY (Gratuitous Story of Yourself) by Molly

Nobody lives like Mormon mommy bloggers – not even Mormon mommy bloggers. Their whole life looks like it’s on purpose. If your blogroll includes a few of these Etsy-shopping, organic waffle-making, cute apron-wearing ladies, you know what I mean. If there were a way to engineer a lifestyle where I was a Mormon Mommy Blogger without actually having to be Mormon or a mommy, I’d be down. That doesn’t seem possible, so instead I can’t help but fantasize about an alternate universe in which I was born in Provo, have 8 siblings, and run an online children’s stationery shop while raising impeccably-dressed kids.

For starters, if I were a Mormon Mommy Blogger … I’d be Mormon. That part doesn’t really interest me — except for the crisp white underwear onesies, which seem so pristine and wholesome that they’re like the underwear equivalent of having fresh farm milk delivered in glass bottles to your door — so let’s move on. I’d be a “mommy,” though, and by my late 20s I could have quite a collection of them: Jasper, Oliver, Clyde, Florentine, and Birdie. Or Wren. I haven’t decided on the last one for sure. Unlike real children, they’d never wear anything with licensed characters on it. Instead, the boys would look like Mumford sons and the girls would dress like cats from a Richard Scarry book.

All together now: Ain’t no collar like a Peter Pan collar cause a Peter Pan collar don’t pop

Speaking of outfits, if I were a Mormon Mommy Blogger, I’d also dress like a cat from a Richard Scarry book. I assume there would be a lot of stuff from Anthro and Modcloth in my closet. But as a proper Mormon Mommy Blogger, I’d probably have a Mormon Mommy Blogger friend with an Etsy shop who gives me free clothes in exchange for plugs. I bet I’d like that part. I would be really into statement necklaces and, I think, hair accessories. Every day I’d look like a baby from one of those newborn photoshoots where they stick big stuff on their head.

When accessorizing, think to yourself: “What would a baby from Etsy do?”

My color palette would best be described as “Wes Anderson-y” or “Deschanelesque.”

If I were a Mormon Mommy Blogger, I’d cop to flaws to seem more human, like the leading lady in a rom-com who is beautiful and accomplished, but also trips a lot. For instance, maybe I’d be a little too obsessed with some type of cute dessert. It couldn’t be Hostess Snowballs or vending machine ice cream sandwiches or anything that you can picture coating your insides with First World Diseases. It could be gelato or some sort of attractive donut, though.

My fatal flaw: I love eating a single, picturesque macaron after a long day shopping for cute fabrics that I definitely know what to do with.

That’s as bad as it can get, because you can’t be gross and be a Mormon Mommy Blogger (I mean your kids and your dog can, and you probably write about that, but it’s different). In contrast, I do things like realize that I haven’t cleaned the rim of my aluminum water bottle until a film of orange sludge has developed. I bet Mormon Mommy Bloggers’ lunch bags don’t smell like a dead man ate a bunch of fruit then farted into it- and if they did, they wouldn’t tell you that. Besides, they eat lunch at home, on Depression glass.

The best part about being a Mormon Mommy Blogger would be the house. It would look like an undergrad design major’s aspirational Pinterest (the board is called “Someday…”, with ellipses). I’m thinking it would be a mid-century ranch or a converted 1890s schoolroom, but anything pre-1970 will do in a pinch. Mormon Mommy Bloggers do not have wall-to-wall carpeting. They do, however, have chevron, birds, and owls. I’m sure one of my talented friends would sell hand-lettered wall hangings, so I’d score some of those.

As a Mormon Mommy Blogger, I’d be so precious that I’d have a lot of household items of limited use. Grapefruit spoons, cherry pitters, summer lap blankets, a tiny ceramic mortar and pestle for grinding chia seeds – they’d all be indispensable. We’d have some sort of a twee weekend breakfast tradition, like crepes while reading the Sunday morning comics (it’s not a big deal or anything, but we have a crepe maker). In this universe, I’d be entertained by Sunday morning comics. It would be so cute to be into Nancy or Dick Tracy, but I just can’t. I wouldn’t really “get” Dilbert, but then again, who does?

Oh, to be the kind of adult woman who thinks this is funny. Fun fact: my new niece is named Lulu and everyone over the age of 45 says “oh, like Little Lulu!” so apparently there’s an audience for this?

Somewhere between running my home business and raising children named after old men or wildlife, I’d also do a lot of stuff just for fun. I’d throw parties that are on purpose — theme-y ones, like in the summer we’d all go outdoors with mason jar lanterns and paint silhouette portraits and make root beer floats (can I have rootbeer? better check), or in the winter, a sledding party with a cookie component. The soundtrack would be all adorable ladies with ukuleles, or some artist I’m into who predates the British Invasion. Buddy Holly, maybe. Of course we’d all play with the dog a lot. The dog has a different surname from our own for some reason, like Mr. Wadsworth or Boots McIvins. Basically anything that sounds like it could be one of those stripper or soap opera names you’d construct in junior high using your grandma’s middle name and your first street. I’d have a hobby – probably photography. In my Secret Provo Life, I’d post a lot of pictures taken in natural light highlighting my freckles. I mean, I have more freckles than anybody I’ve ever seen, but in this world I’d be into having them. It would be like my thing. I have to be positive, because Ruby-Faye has them too. Wait, what were the kids names again?

I’m not saying I’m going to go Single White Female on a Mormon Mommy Blogger, although I’m also not saying not that, if you know what I mean (I don’t). Mormon Mommy Bloggers are doing what everyone with an online presence does — editing out the boring or unattractive bits of life and painting a nice picture. But you have to admit, they paint it ten times more adorably than any of the rest of us can manage. I’m pretty sure their lunch satchels still smell like fruit farts though, even if the fruit is organic, local, and probably cut into the shape of other fruits somehow.