Guest Lectures

While Amelia and I have had our fair share of teachable moments, we certainly haven’t done it all so, we decided to bring our friends in for a guest lecture here and there so ya’ll can have the benefit of learning from their less than classy moments.

This lecture (and probably a few future lectures) comes from our friend Laura. I feel obligated to preface this lecture with some personal stories about her because, from our vantage point, she’s much more than what you’ll get from her story. Laura is absolutely impossible to put in a box or label or define. Just when I think I understand her, she does something crazy and I just have to start all over again. She is inclusive and caring and genuine and someone I’m lucky to have in my life. She’ll call me out on my shit and be my biggest champion when I’m down. She is unapologetically exactly who she is and does what she wants to do. She takes responsibility for her actions and would do anything for her friends. I love and admire this girl and have learned so much about being comfortable my own skin.

All of that being said, Laura is also one of the craziest bitches I know, read on to find out more:

Guest lecture what’s upppppppppp

Alright so. I have done some absolutely ridiculous shit from the time I turned 18 my freshman year of college and I still haven’t slowed down in my post grad life at 22 with a full time job. I can tell you stories about how I danced in a fountain during Hurricane Irene in rain boots and a bikini, how I’ve jumped around on bars in just my bra and gotten free bottles, how I have hooked up with so many strangers it is probably some kind of record, or how I couldn’t be bothered to stop walking home one night so I just throw up as I walked. The list goes on and on. The main thing I can really take away from all of it is: 1. I reallyy need to stop mixing vodka and tequila (nobody ever wins those nights), 2. my pants really need to stay on the whole night, and 3. the only person I really have to give a fuck about judging me is my own damn self. I have definitely questioned several of my decisions these past few years but that has never stopped me from being anyone but me. Some nights I’m going to put on a slutty cop outfit and fuck some guy in my friend’s guest room. Other nights I’m going to spend several hours at two in the morning driving my friends back to their homes on Long Island because I want to make sure they get home safe and who the fuck charges $50 for a cab anyway? If I asked what you loved most in this world and after you listed your family, friends, significant others, pets, jobs, hobbies and on and on…how long would it take until you said yourself? Your well being and your happiness needs to come first because how the fuck are you going to provide for others when you aren’t providing for yourself. Bottom line is, I learned a long time ago that if you waste your time changing who you are for other people, you are going to forget who you were in the first place. I’m fucking awesome and so are you other fucking person who are reading this. You are the number one baddest bitch in your life and that is an honor. Never compromise who you are because why be anyone else when you can be yourself?

It’s My Party I Can Cry if I Want To

Much to my dismay it’s not always your party and you CANNOT cry if you want to.  I have had numerous bouts of drunken cries that range from a few delicate, streaming tears to full blown sobs, complete with running nose and gasping breaths (really quite attractive).  Now do not get me wrong, crying is a natural reaction to one’s emotions and healthy from time to time.  However, the act becomes rather unhealthy when it occurs week in and week out at your local bar.  You quickly adopt the nickname Weepy (Snow White’s long lost 8th dwarf) and your friends proceed with caution as they watch you down drink after drink.  There is nothing cute or fun, in fact, about being that needy girl whose friends constantly have to console them.  At the end of the night the mood is ruined, you are keeping everyone up and worst of all you’re preventing your friends from grabbing that slice of pizza covered in ranch they’ve been craving all night.  My (not so) inner struggle with a drunken cry or twenty stemmed from a multitude of sources; there was the “I’ll be alone forever” cry, the “I’m graduating” cry that often turned into “the life crisis” cry.  These serve as only a couple of instances that are all tucked neatly in my memory as persistent reminders of past mistakes decisions.  Regardless of how much alcohol was consumed I cannot forget nor escape the painful embarrassment I had the power of bringing on myself.  The most pivotal lesson I learned may be the importance of addressing your emotions as they arise and that burying them in the recesses of your mind is only a temporary fix.  They accumulate, becoming a ticking time bomb just waiting for the opportune moment to explode.  As one could predict this bomb is likely to reach zero at the end of a long night at the bar, where thoughts are all muddled together and subsequently half articulated.  The road to becoming a classier you can be likened to a 12 step program.  First, you must admit that you want to make a change and further these ideas with the appropriate actions.  The classier you will recognize when you are sad and make an active decision not to drink, instead addressing soberly what is on your mind.  Your friends are your greatest support system and often times best at consoling or giving advice, just as long as you do it over coffee not 5 gin and tonics (as you master these tricks you can move up to one or two adult beverages).  If you take anything away from this rant, let it be that a drunken cry every once in a blue moon can be a cathartic experience but DO NOT make it a habit.  As the saying goes, old habits die hard.