I'M GOING TO ENGLAND IN 3 DAYS! Also, a sweet story. Also, the contest winner.

It's hitting me!!!!!

We leave on Wednesday. Can you guys even believe this? ME! TRAVELING! It's going to be epic, and I will try to take lots of pictures but not so many that it's disgustingly obvious that I'm an American tourist. I'd like to think that upon first glance one wouldn't be able to pinpoint where I was from.

See.  Not obvious at all.

I also have a story and accompanying photo.

When I started 5th grade, I began halfway through the school year.  I didn't know anyone.  I befriended the one other new girl, and quickly we latched onto one another and became best friends.  We did everything together, and relied on one another at recess.

One day, near the end of the school year, she straight-up ditched me for these other girls, and I found myself swinging alone, spiraling into what could have become a nasty little mini-depression.

But then this group of Asian girls that always played on the play structure right next to the swings came up to me and invited me to play lava monster with them.  And several beautiful, life-long friendships were formed.

Not the least of which was my friend Catherine.  We were best, best friends in middle school; we did everything together.  We couldn't get enough of one another seven hours a day, five days a week either, so we would talk on the phone for hours at home (we called one another pretty much every day), and we kept these little notebooks that we would write to one another in and pass back and forth.  We used to joke that whoever got married first would throw the other her bouquet, and that when we were old grannies we'd sit in rocking chairs together talking about the good ol' days.  Catherine knows every single detail of every embarrassing thing I did or said in middle and high school, and she also knows the ins and outs of every hurt, every realization, every joy, and every change I went through.

Which is why when I got married, I did this:

The giggling one is Catherine.  Also my long hair was badass, I'm just sayin'.

Catherine's birthday isn't for about a week more, but I'm going to be in England, and I thought it was high time she got some recognition on my blog.  

I love you, CatL2890. (As a friend)  ;)

-PG2

Oh!!!!  Also, congrats to Allison, who won my vegan recipe contest!!!  They were all awesome, and I can't wait to make them, but Allison's recipe took the cake.  Allison, I owe you a picture of your choosing!  Go ahead and email me what you'd like.

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Since You Guys Seem To Like Hearing From Me Even When I Have Nothing To Say...

Let's see, what's going on with me?


Still riding the high from the "nice legs" thing.

Only worked 2 days this week, so got things done like cleaning my room, sleeping and applying moisturizer.

Still vegan. Only cracked once, and had some cheese on my pizza. Otherwise I've been perfect.

Considering gigantic life changes, to be revealed at a later date.

Keeping up on the blogs I follow.

Dressing like an adult.

Acting like an adult.

Working through a bunch of my baggage, trust issues, and trauma.

Being confident, kick-ass, and awesome. Veronica Mars-style.



So there's a little update. Another thing: would you guys hate me if I put one TIIIIIINY little ad on this page? Like, in some subtle little spot where you'd barely even notice it? Email me or comment if you have something to say about it. I really want the feedback.

More soon. *kisses*


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Creepy Old Bus Men Say The Nicest Things

"Hey Miss...uh, I don't mean to be embarrassing, but you have very nice legs. Very nice legs.




You know what, Mr. Creepy Old Bus Man? That definitely WAS embarrassing, given that you're a good forty years older than I am and that everyone on the bus heard you. But I will TAKE it, and thank you! Because I have been complimented by strangers on everything from my shoes to my tits to my hair, but never once has a stranger, even a creepy one, told me I have nice legs.




So thank you. Clearly I'm desperate if I'm accepting that compliment, but fuck it...it was nice.




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OMG Guys. I Got A Fucking AWARD.

I guess bloggers do this?  They award each other?  It seems a little like chain mail, from what I can gather, except it's exclusive chain mail (not the kind you send to your grandma and your seat mate from 2nd grade and your cousin's boyfriend's sister).  Also it's a way for bloggers to acknowledge one another's hard work and/or complete and utter genius.


Anyway, I got nominated by B (who is awesome, btdubs) for the Overlord Award:

Here's what I'm supposed to do:

Post the award and the rules on your blog.
List 3 things you would change if you were overlord.
List 10 blogs you think are worthy of world domination.
Leave them a message in their comment sections with a link saying you chose them.




So here goes....


If I were Overlord, I would change the following things:


1. Legalize gay marriage, because...I mean come on.

2. Schools would start serving healthy, fresh, delicious food, and there would be such things taught as cooking, dancing, interior decorating, legit home ec (meaning teach the damn kids how to pay their damn bills, do their damn taxes, and clean their damn fucking bathtubs), gardening, etc.  Kids would get to have more classes outdoors, more field trips, more activity...school would involve studying books only about half the time, and the rest would be spent moving, being active, experiencing, living.

3. Firefly would get back on TV, and Veronica Mars would get a movie deal.



Now I get to pick ten other bloggers to give this award to, and keep the chain letter going!  We don't hate these yet, you see...partially because it means we get awards and also because it's still fresh enough.  I mean hate on them as much as you want now, every one of you was into chain emails in 1999, and in 1994 you were doing the same thing with paper letters.


*Drum roll*



1. The Concrete Loves My Shoes.  Jason Simone is adorable, hilarious, and insightful.  His blog is absolutely always a joy to read.  And he has the best cocktail recipe ever, VodCake!


2. Awkward Sex & The City.  This girl is super hilarious, and talks about sex all the time.  Also she hates Dora the Explorer, which is a double win in my book.


3. Tristachio: Just A Family Of Nuts.  Tristachio is fucking hilarious.  She's one of my favorite bloggers, for realsies...I mean the candy blowjobs and Ben Franklin jokes alone are enough, and then she just keeps topping herself.


4. Smile Big And Pretty.  Starting to notice a trend here?  Yup.  Hilarity.  I like to read funny blogs.  Jas is awesome, guys.  Also adorable.  Did I mention adorable?


5. The Sassy Curmudgeon.  You don't even notice when she's talking about her baby.  THAT'S HOW FUNNY SHE IS.


6. A Few French Fries Short Of A Happy Meal.  Stephanie Iris=awesome.  And super relatable.  And hilarious.  Seriously you guys, you really think I would read anything that wasn't funny?  I'm not that deep on the internet.  You really shouldn't be surprised.


7. From Parties To Diapers.  A few things.  1. Hayley is super funny.  2. Hayley is just getting her blog up and running and could totes use some post ideas.  3. Hayley's my sister.  AND BLOOD IS THICKER THAN WATER.  (Does that saying even make any sense?  I mean, I suppose it's a scientifically true statement, but....what's the point?  I mean who was comparing it to water?  And what does water have to do with it?  Maybe blood is what you have in common with your family, and yeah, it's thick...but is water what you have in common with your friends or something?  I mean, it really doesn't make any sense.  I'm just saying.)


8. Brave Days.  Sarah is pretty awesome, and sweet.  She's funny too, like the others, but in more of a girlfriends-and-makeovers kind of way, which is refreshing even to someone who gets along better with dudes.  Because who doesn't need girlfriends sometimes?  Even dudes need to giggle and drink margaritas in their pj's every once in a while.  True story.


9. A Beer For The Shower.  Surprisingly enough, there aren't all that many male bloggers out there.  But Bryan and Brandon are TWO of them, on the SAME blog!  And they're funny.  You guys should check them out.


10. Chicken Maker.  Don't ask me why this is so funny.  It just is.  This guy just...draws chickens.  In MS Paint.  I'm for serial, guys.  It's really funny.



Wheeeeeeeee I love promoting other blogs!  This is really fun.  It really is.

Y'all are the best.  More soon, I promise.  :)

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Winner TBA!

Thank you SO much to everyone who participated in the recipe contest!!!

Winner to be announced shortly, and then provided with awesomeness itself in art form.  Seriously.  You're gonna want to hang this shit over your fireplace mantel, man.  Up there with the trophies and your grandma's ashes.

Vegan Recipe Contest! Best One Wins A Personalized Drawing!

I'm going to try out the vegan thing.  No, don't make fun of me.  It's a very practical health choice, as well as a stand against animal cruelty and the disgusting way we eat in this country.  Click here if you want an idea of what I'm talking about.  Warning: don't be eating when you click that link.

Also, Wilbur:

 

Uh...point made?  I think so.

Anywho, I want recipes.  Easy, simple, healthful vegan recipes.  I am willing to pay for these.  With a million dollars, a bucket full of jelly beans, a hand-knitted throw blanket with kittens on it, and a brand new iPod.

Just kidding.  Best recipe wins a personalized drawing from me.  You get to choose what I draw for you!  And it will be yours, and you can get it put on a t-shirt or an apron or a button or even underwear, if that's how you roll, at Zazzle.com.

I searched Google Images for "funny underwear" and much hilarity transpired.  This was merely the best of what I uncovered.  

From ItsNotBadAtAll.com.

The Deets:

Deadline: 8 pm Wednesday, January 17 (that's tomorrow night, guys).

Rules: Must be vegan, meaning made with zero animal products of any kind (including meat, dairy, honey, etc).  Must be healthful (meaning not crazy high in sugar, fat, or sodium).  Must be reasonably simple (I'm not going to spend 5 hours cooking dinner for myself).  If you win, I will draw you something of your choosing.  I'm not a prude, and if you ask me to draw a giraffe penis chances are I will accommodate that.  But I am reserving the right to deny any request on the basis of obscenity, hatefulness, or anything else I deem entirely inappropriate.

Recipes submitted to the Jill Of All Trades Facebook page will also be considered.


Protip: If you're going to submit a recipe, you can't submit anonymously if you want to win!  It's very easy to comment with a Google account.  :)


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Ugh. I'm Totes Screwed.

I may be all powerful and awesome now, with a "They don't like me?  Fuck 'em!" James Dean-ish badass attitude about life.  But I'm still absolutely terrible at flirting.  So I still periodically do some internet research on the topic, no matter how lame that sounds.  You don't like that I'm lame?  Fuck you!  That's RIGHT, bitch!

I'm just kidding, you're not a bitch.  But seriously, stop laughing at me.

Anyway, look what I found:


From:


How to Meet a Good Man in a Bar, from Hookingupsmart.com:

3. Consciously signal attraction.

Men looking to get laid like sexually aggressive women for obvious reasons. If  you’re not making a spectacle of yourself, you may feel like an ugly duckling. Remember that you don’t want to waste time catching the eye of a player. Andrew Trees, in his book Decoding Love, lays out a nice summary of what the research shows about getting men to approach.

The short answer: eye contact with a smile. Not surprising, right? What is surprising is the amount of encouragement men need before risking an approach. It’s more than most women would feel comfortable with. According to a study cited by Trees, even making eye contact multiple times had a success rate of only 20% if it wasn’t accompanied by a smile each time. When women added the smile each time they made eye contact, their success rate increased to 60%.

I know one young woman who swears by the practice of staring at a guy until he approaches. She claims her success rate with this strategy is 100%. However, she admits that guys often assume that she’s DTF, and I know for a fact that she’s dated some real jerks.



...how depressing is that?

I mean, I thought that getting the smile and eye contact thing down was going to do me some serious good, but now I find out that doesn't even work most of the time??  WTF, internet?  You have deceived me!

I don't know if my poor little reserve of courage can handle the staring.

I'm totally fucked.  Or not, as the case may be.

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Looking Like An Adult Seems To Be Almost As Important As Actually Being One. Plus A Huge Epiphany About Life And Stuff.

What happened to the days of old, when I looked 5-10 years older than I was?  Hm?  I remember being 11 when some lady at Costco thought I was married to my dad.  Waiters have been accidentally seating me at the bar and then bashfully moving me once they realized what they'd done since I was about 15.  Many of my guests at the bed and breakfast thought I was closer to 30 than to 20, and NOBODY believes I'm my mother's daughter and not her sister.

So why, in the last 6 months or so, has everyone suddenly started telling me that I look 16?

I mean, there are a few factors here that could be at work:

-I've lost some weight, so I really do look small and petite now, as opposed to short but estrogen-curvy like I used to.  I have had a woman's figure, not a girl's, since I was 13.  Now I have a slightly younger shape to my body.

-I'm healthier than I was 6 months ago, so it's possible my hair and skin have a more youthful appearance.

-I have been experimenting more with my unusual taste in fashion, and my tendency to go for feminine, old-fashioned skirts and dresses has been amplified big-time.  In fact, I almost never wear pants anymore.


But I don't think any of those things are dramatic enough to make me look 10 years younger than I used to.  And looking at pictures from a year ago, I don't think I look that different.

I hate it though.  I already don't get taken very seriously--I mean I'm small, I'm a woman, I giggle, I'm clumsy, I have a high-pitched voice...I don't need to look childish too.  Everyone keeps telling me I'll love it when I'm 30, but that doesn't do me much good right now.  Age is power, and by telling me I look younger than I am, people are taking that power away from me.  God knows I have little enough as it is.  Oh, I know that most of them aren't doing it on purpose--most of the people who tease me for looking young are doing so good-naturedly.  But some people do it to put me down.  And that's not okay.

I meant for this to be funny, but I'm starting to get a little angry.  You know why?  Because I'm realizing that it isn't the only way people make me feel small.  There are so many subtle things you can say to somebody, or do to them, or even tiny body language signals you can use, to put them down.  And I must have "Gullible, insecure, and easily victimized" written across my forehead, because people use them on me constantly.  Things like edging one's shoulders away from a person when they're trying to join the circle or conversation, or acting disinterested in everything they say, or ridiculing them for every falter and stumble, or gaslighting and making them feel crazy or irrational.  Things like explaining away a person's emotions with "you're just being a girl" or "you're probably on your period."  Things like constantly telling a person that they look young, or that they're small, or that they have no valuable experience in anything. 

You know what those things are?  They're bullying.

People who bully others are doing so because they're insecure themselves, at least 9 out of 10 times.  It's a way for them to be on top.  They saw that other people got on top by bullying them, so they mimick it.  It's human nature, really, to observe how others survive and do the same for their own survival.  But it's fucked up, and it's mean, and it's wrong.

And everyone should have learned that it was wrong by the time they were 12.

Who fucking cares how old I am?  Does that have to be the first thing you see when you look at me?  How about my strengths, huh?  I'm very intelligent.  Look into my eyes and tell me I'm not intelligent, and kind.  I'm also pretty easy to talk to, and funny, and open-minded, and down to earth.  I dunno, I think I'm kinda cool in my way.  And I don't have to make you feel small to feel cool; I get those feelings because I do the right thing or make someone happy, or because someone gives me a compliment, or because I accomplish something I can be proud of.  I'm a damn fine person to be around.

I guess I'm just sick of being kicked around, then ridiculed for letting myself get kicked around, and then being shoved back down every time I try to stand up.  It's a mindfuck.  It's been happening to me since I was a little kid, and I've spent all these years worrying and fretting and trying to figure out what was wrong with me that made people treat me this way.

I'm starting to suspect that there's actually nothing wrong with me, other than not realizing my worth and letting people push me around.

God damn it.  The worst part about all of this is that I let them win.  I let them get to me.  I spent my WHOLE LIFE insanely fucking insecure, trying to figure out how to get people to like me, how to get them to talk to me, how to get them to stop being mean to me or worse, ignoring me.  I wasn't the one doing anything to cut myself out!  It's clear, really...they cut ME out, and not because I'm unlovable or even something below awesome.  They cut me out because I let them cut me out, and snubbing someone made them feel superior.  Simple as that. 

And I'm a fucking adult, and still letting it happen.

This ends now.

I know I can't grow a full-size self-esteem overnight, but in the process of writing this post I've had quite the epiphany: it's not me.

It's not me.

Fuck.  Anyone.  Who.  Doesn't.  Agree.

Bam.


I declare, right now, that I'm going from this:

To this:

Fucking watch me.

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My Blogiversary Post: A Conglomeration Of Awesome

Today is my one-year blogiversary.  Exactly one year ago today I submitted my first post.

I AM SO EXCITED.

I really really want this post to be good.  I’m starting it two whole days ahead of time.  Which, for those of you who are unfamiliar with my writing habits, is WAY early.  This is how it usually goes:

Normally, I pull it off.  But the best posts are always the ones I put a significant amount of time into, and I want this one to be amazing!

You know why?

Because you guys are incredible.  I really want you all to understand this.  I want you to understand how much your support and readership and enthusiasm has affected my life.

You see, I’ve always struggled with a number of issues, not the least of which are the following:


-I am self-conscious and unsure of myself

-I have some nasty social anxiety that rears its ugly head way too often

-^^^^That, particularly in the arena of meeting and interacting with cute boys

-I love to write, but have found most of my attempts weak and/or lame

-I have a difficult time keeping up on projects, which negatively affects my self-esteem


Here are some ways that this blog and/or my followers (that’s you guys!) have helped with those things:


-It’s been a whole fucking year--a year filled to the brim with crazy shit, I might add--and I have never given up on this blog.  In fact, I’ve never written fewer than 3 posts in a month, and it’s usually been closer to 10.  Do you have any idea what an accomplishment that is for me?  I feel like I’ve given up on almost every large undertaking I’ve ever experienced (e.g. school, my marriage, etc).

-I have 23 official followers, which is honestly more than I would have expected.  I do very little to market my blog, and I write erratically and about weird shit.

-People think I’m funny, and look forward to my posts, and are thrilled when I write.  I’m not even kidding.  Even people who are really funny themselves.  That’s INCREDIBLY supportive to my self-confidence.

-This blog has given me an amazing creative outlet, as well as a place to share my perspective, my sense of humor, my thoughts, my rants, and sometimes even my frustration.

-It’s been a great way to meet new friends, and to interact with people of similar taste and interests.

-It has given me a chance to work through a lot of my anxieties, worries, and stresses.  You guys have helped me realize that other people feel awkward and embarrassed on a regular basis too, and that laughing it off is the best way to deal with it.

-You’ve also all helped me realize that there are people out there who like me exactly as I am, and that worrying about what people think and letting condescending or judgmental people get to me is only going to make me feel badly about myself.  I am valuable, lovable, funny, unique, and smart--all in my own ways.  Anyone who doesn’t get me or doesn’t think I’m cool enough isn’t worth my time.  That’s REALLY hard to remember, and you guys remind me constantly.


Every time a post gets a Facebook like, or gets linked to, or gets a lot of page views, my confidence skyrockets.  Comments are worth like 46 million points.  And following me?  That makes my entire day.

Anyone who appreciates Jill Of All Trades isn’t just enjoying something I’ve created: they are approving of a part of my soul.  I can’t thank you all enough.  And I hope you all will celebrate this happy day with me.

Here is a piece of celebratory blog cake:

And here are a few snippets from the highlights of the year:


I've also been told it's singles-central, and everyone is fucking everyone.  My first thought was "omgsyphilis" but my second was "....you mean I could get laid?"

-From “My Chances At Being Cooler Have Just Risen Significantly”


Pregnant people like to dance. Especially in their first and second trimesters before they are the size of a barge.

-From “I’m Pregnant, Not Dead--A Guest Post By My Sister Hayley”

-From “Adrian, The Horny Little Bundle Of Terror”

-From “Stripping Bear”


My job sucks monkey balls so hard, I’m concerned about the monkey’s health and well-being.  His balls might actually fall off.

-From “It Is Time For That Rant I Promised You”

-From “Steven Paulson.  AGAIN.”

-From “Blogging Has A Bad Rep Because In General, It SUCKS”


Step 7:  Get laid.  Starting to feel a little desperate.  Attempts to get laid sucking.  Beginning to wonder if my standards are too high.  Realizing how desperate that sounds, and insisting to self that I am worth someone I'm at least attracted to, but still secretly wondering because let's be honest, I haven't gotten laid for over a month and I'm starting to go a little bit insane.

-From “An Update On All The Disorganization”


In other news, my little sister called me a man-whore. Not just a man, not just a whore...specifically a man-whore.

-From “A Quick News Update”

-From “An Open Message To All The Men In My Life: I Don’t Bite,  And I Didn’t Suddenly Become A Psychopath Out Of Nowhere”



Blessings to you all!!!


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I Swear To God I'll Be Funny Soon. I'll Even Draw You Guys A Picture.

I promise.  There will be one of my old-school Paint drawings in my next post.

My BLOGIVERSARY POST!!!!  About which I am very excited.  Two days!

Meantime, check out a few of the funny blogs I've discovered recently:


The Opposite Of That

The Concrete Loves My Shoes

From Parties To Diapers (Hayley's new blog)

Brave Days

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The Ever-Pressing Plight Of The American 20-Something

What.

The fuck.

Do I want to do.

With my life.


Seriously.

I have all these questions floating around in my brain.  Should I go back to school?  Should I try a new field or should I stick with hotels?  Should I take something I love, like writing, and try to make that a career?  How important to me is money?  What's the minimum amount I need to live the way I want?  For that matter, how do I want to live?  Do I want to travel?  Do I want to live in Portland?  Is it wrong not to live up to your potential?  Is it wrong not to be successful?  What does success mean?  Will I look back on my life and be satisfied?

It's fucking intense.

On some level, I know the following things about myself:

-I like to live in the moment.
-Money is not very important to me.
-It is not difficult for me to live simply.
-I am much happier when I have more time to rest, to absorb the world, to spend with loved ones.
-I tend to get sick of my jobs.  It's dangerous to do something I truly love for work.

But how long will those things be true?  What happens if, say in 10 years, I decide I want children?  Living the way I am now, I would be hard-pressed to care for even one child, and I certainly wouldn't be able to give it much in the way of comfort and luxury.  Should I be preparing, working my way up somewhere, going to school...something to guarantee that I'll make more money by then? 

Or is it more real and beautiful to raise a child in a life that makes you happy?  I spent the latter half of my childhood in the suburbs.  Beaverton was the name of the town, and I thought Veronica Mars' character Piz summed it up pretty well when he said "minivan in every driveway, chicken in every pot."  Most of the people there had come from somewhere else.  They settled there to raise children.  And with good reason; Beaverton has the second strongest school district in the state, it's relatively safe, it's comfortable, it's community-minded, and people there are truly kind to one another.  It's like fucking Mayberry. 

But I always wondered this: did the fact that most of the parents settled give their children a less real experience?

It always seemed to me that the children you read about in books who have really unusual upbringings were the most interesting, deep people--and the ones who knew who they were and made an impact on the world.  It makes me wonder if perhaps, to some extent, exactly the life I desire is the most ideal to raise my own child in.  Maybe if I decide I want to travel a lot, it's a beautiful, unique experience for my child to be able to travel with me and see the world.  Maybe if I want to live in SE Portland in some gigantic house with a bunch of roommates and a big organic garden in the back, that's a beautiful way to raise my child.  Maybe a homestead or farm in the countryside is ideal.  Maybe running a bed and breakfast.  WHO KNOWS???  I'm just saying, maybe what's expected and "normal" might not actually be the ideal way.  Maybe what's ideal is whatever is most real.  Maybe being a happy, fulfilled parent is more important than being able to provide the security and idealism of money and the 'burbs.

The problem is that there is no solid answer to any of this.  Now is the time of my life when the choices I make are actually quite important.  They will affect my future very strongly.

God, I'm not even funny today.  I'm too wrapped up in all this.  These are super exciting thoughts, you guys.  I mean they're important, and in some ways a source of stress, but they're not heavy or pressing in a way that is upsetting.  Mostly I'm excited to figure these things out; to live and breathe and feel and experience.  I always have been, but I feel like I'm coming to a point where I'm in the position to actually DO it.  I have energy, I have strength, I have confidence.  I have means and ideas and excitement.

I suppose that's all I can ask for right now.  It doesn't do to focus so heavily on the future, especially when the questions you have don't have answers yet.  *sigh* I'm so impatient.

As an attempt to make up for forcing you guys to read through THAT, please enjoy this status my friend just posted on Facebook:

'Friend: "Can I use your phone to call my mom?" ... Me: "Yeah, just press redial."'

Also, you guys rock.  Having your support and your readership has been a huge part of what has made me keep up on this blog, and Jill Of All Trades has been an IMMENSE source of encouragement to me.  My one-year blogiversary is in two days, and I will be writing a separate post about that, so I don't want to wax TOO sentimental just yet.  But trust me, the gushing and love and reader appreciation is coming.  Just wait.

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Some Ways 20-Somethings Suck

Since I was very young, it has commonly been joked at that I was born 40.  A nice way to put it is that I have an "old soul," but most people don't put it the nice way.

I earned this particular brand of teasing at around 13 by wearing old lady sweaters, carrying around a bible and my embroidery, and disapproving strongly of swear words.

 

The peak of awfulness in the Age of the Old Lady Sweater. Second from the left.

I then proceeded to make matters worse by getting married at 19, and then by becoming the innkeeper at a bed and breakfast.  Shedding the sweaters and the bible helped a little.  Swearing helped a little more.  But I was still old and out of touch with my age group.

After Josh and I split up in August, it really hit me how fucking old I was.  I decided to push myself to get out there, meet people, date, try new things...to act my age, in other words. 

 

Wilderness pilates is, of course, on the list.  I think it's required.

I have been overall fairly successful so far.  I'm going out, building up my alcohol tolerance, dating, making friends, getting laid (rarely, but I'll take what I can get at this point), living in the city, going on spur-of-the-moment international trips, wandering all over town, and generally being quite adventurous and spontaneous.

But I'm thinking there's still some amount of old lady in me, because I just can't get over a few irritating things about 20-something culture and social norms.


-There's no such thing as a set plan.  Neither spontaneous nor predetermined plans seem to be ever set in stone, and you must always have a plan B because your chances of being bailed on are quite high.  At first you will start to question whether anyone really loves you or wants to be around you, because your self-esteem clearly still needs some work, but really it's just that people do whatever they feel like doing at any given moment and have little to no respect for plans of any kind.

-No one shows up anywhere on time.  And by that I mean that standard arrival time is 30-60 minutes late, and anytime within 2 hours seems to be acceptable.  I had always thought that "fashionably late" was 15-30 minutes after the party had started.  I didn't think it meant that you show up at 10:30 when you said you'd meet someone around 9:00.

-People don't introduce one another.  That may be an old-fashioned bit of etiquette, but I've always thought it made a lot of sense.  It's really awkward to be the friend sitting there while the whole "Omg Helen!  How are you?  How's Frank?  You broke up??  Emma's engaged, really? I thought she'd sleep around until she was 35 at least.  How's your new job?" thing goes on without having been introduced to Helen.  Even though you still don't know Helen or Frank or Emma and therefore will still be more or less excluded from the conversation, you at least know that your job is to smile and nod along politely and to say "nice to meet you, Helen" when she finally leaves.  If your friend just turns around and ignores you for some random stranger named Helen for 5 minutes, you don't know whether to try to pretend you're participating in their conversation, or to stare at your lap, or to pretend to go to the bathroom...and if you're already a little socially awkward, it just escalates into a panic attack.


I'm sure there's more, but that's all I have at the moment.

I think it's also important to note that I could have included SO many memes in this post, but I didn't.  For you guys.  You're welcome.

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Young, Pregnant, And Single--Another Guest Post From My Sister Hayley

Hayley's guest post had the 5th most views of all time of anything I've posted on this blog.

The most views went to my post about Logan Echolls, further proving the point that people love the guy.  I was right, I'm just saying.

So, I've asked her to write another for me.  There's a picture this time!  It's totes adorbs, and it makes mine look good.  ;)  I'm just kidding.  Except that it does.

Love you, sis.




Young, Pregnant, And Single

by Hayley the Mommy-To-Be

Last week I joined a prenatal water aerobics class.

I did this for 2 major reasons:

-I wanted to meet pregnant women like me.

-I wanted some organized, healthy exercise.

My first problem was that I didn’t know what to wear. Did they make special swimsuits for expectant mothers? If so, was this a necessary investment? As a single mother, I’ve tried to cut back on any expense possible. In the end I decided to wear my bikini (one of 9 that I already owned.).  It couldn’t be that bad, right?

My second problem was that I forgot my flip flops. It doesn’t seem like a big deal all by itself, but I was already worried about my choice of attire.

More problems would come up, but I had to get there first. I got to the hospital that the class was held at and realized that I had no idea where I was supposed to be going. I looked around, but there wasn’t another pregnant woman in sight. Thanks to my one stroke of good luck all night, I ended up finding the pool with no problem.

I signed in and went to change. When I walked out to the pool and set my towel on a chair by the wall, I looked around nervously at the other women.

My initial observations:

-Everyone there was at least 25 years old.

-Most of the women were further along than me.

-All the women seemed to know each other.

-NOBODY was wearing a bikini.

As I got in the pool all the women seemed to be sending me either curious or judgmental looks. I realized at once that it was a bad idea to wear the bikini. I looked for the youngest looking person and found someone who looked almost as lost as me and hoped she was new too. She was. Together we figured out what we were supposed to do and got to know each other.

Basic pregnant woman questions:

-How far along are you?

-Are you married?

-Is this your first baby?

-Do you have family nearby?

-Is it a boy or a girl?

-How old are you?

-Did you have morning sickness in the first trimester?

As it turns out, the youngest girl in the class really was 25. I met a lot of other women that night, which was no easy task. I never thought that pregnant people had cliques. I wouldn’t be surprised if pregnant people altogether were a clique, but even these grown up women wouldn’t let me join their groups.

One thing I was sure of by the end of the night: I was the only under 25/unmarried woman.

Every time I told someone that I was 18 and unmarried (not to mention single), I moved further and further toward the deep end of the pool. It’s a good thing I’m tall.

Being single and pregnant is hard. Especially when we are young. None of our friends understand the position we are in. we need support more than ever. The last thing we need is to be judged and pushed away by people like us. Since that night I have made it my mission to find friends like me. Single, young moms who can understand how I feel and who wont judge me for doing things “the wrong way.”

I am just as capable of loving and raising a child as a 20-something married woman.  Just watch me.




Hayley is a single mom-to-be, aspiring singer/song writer, innkeeper, and sister.

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Gave Up On The Internet Already, And Not Just Because It Sounded So Lame.

Well.  That was fun.

I have officially deleted all my profiles and given up on internet dating.  Only took about 2 weeks.

I had the following experiences:


-Guy so gross and awful that I got on the wrong bus to avoid him.

-One-night stand guy who wanted to define the relationship the next day.

-Guy who was nice enough at first and then freaked out that I didn't want anything serious and called me "ruined."

-Guy who's actually super sweet and we're still friends.

-Guy from Craigslist who's now like my total bff.

-Guy who seems pretty cool so far, and makes a lot of hilarious and inappropriate jokes.

-Racist guy, as mentioned previously.

-A shit ton of "Hey baby" messages.

-A lot of dead-end conversations.




Perhaps most importantly, I've had a bit of an ego boost.  I have realized that I'm totally cute enough to get dates outside of the internet...mostly because I'm cuter than 95% of the dudes online.

I've also now had some practice with dating, which is good (even though it sucked) because I didn't know what I was doing before at all.

I'm back to square one, in some ways, just because the same old "so...how do I meet people?" question has cropped back up.  But I feel like I'm going into it with more experience, confidence, and discretion than I did before, even if there's no less desperation.

Also some really funny stories.


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