Hey, everyone. Yeah, that means all 306 of you who read this blog. Let’s agree that on Sunday, instead of posting annoying pictures of amazing, productive things we did over the weekend, we get real and post about all the things we’re Sunday Sads binge eating.
I’ll start: Just the chocolate chips out of four Fiber One bars. Fine, five.
People posting menacing statuses on Facebook to announce that they can’t watch Game of Thrones tonight, so none of their friends are allowed to Facebook status anything about the show because they might spoil something, I love everything about your perspective on life. Write me a self-help book. Please. Now. For real.
I don’t even watch Game of Thrones.
I’m thinking of unfollowing Beyonce on Tumblr.
Does that make me a bad person?
As I’m opening my door to go into my apartment, my hot neighbor who lives somewhere upstairs walks by.
Hot neighbor guy: Whoa! Loud door!
Me: I like it that way. It makes it harder for rapists to sneak in.
Hot neighbor guy: …
Me: Welp, have a good day. I’ll be in here, not getting raped. Hopefully!
Hot neighbor guy: …
Hey Internet Friends.
Need your help. I’m going to a concert at Jones Beach this summer and some friends* from out of town are coming**. Should I tell them to fly into Islip and just meet me there and make a night out of staying out on Long Island? Or should they come into the city and we all commute out there together? What I’m asking is, is there a best way to do Jones Beach and can you just tell me about it so I don’t have to do all the work of looking on the internet.
Thanks.
Julie
*-by “some friends” I mean “my parents”
**-by “are coming” I mean “I had to buy their tickets so someone would come see Pitbull*** with me”
***-kidding about Pitbull****
****-or am I?*****
*****-I am
Hey, Facebook friends I hate follow, quick question. Who takes all of those pictures of you guys and your significant others kissing? Like, do you make strangers in Central Park take pictures of you when you’re touching tongues? Do you befriend other couples who also post make out pics and pass a camera back and forth? Do you set up a timer? I’m seriously wondering.
Showered last night to save myself time this morning and then when I woke up, I went straight to the shower and didn’t realize what I was doing until halfway through my conditioner.
Seriously, I’ve never been more mad at myself. And this is pretty shitty timing because I just forgave myself for not changing the station when the DJ announced he was going to give away the ending of Sixth Sense and ruining a perfectly good Haley Joel Osment vehicle for myself.
This is a cry for help.
Send in the professionals. (But maybe not RIGHT now because I just got back from the gym and haven’t showered. Like in 30? 45 if you think the professionals would treat me better if they saw how I can do my hair with the new curling iron I got.)
Seriously though, I’m going to be in a bad way when this white spandex gets delivered in 7 to 10 business days. Anyone whose phone number I have, be on high alert.
You know how sometimes you notice a weird haze all over the city and you decide that it’s probably nothing serious, like that time all of the Upper East Side smelled like French toast, so you don’t panic but you check Gawker just to be sure and there’s nothing on Gawker about a weird haze so you decide it’s probably just happened and they haven’t posted about it yet, so you check Twitter, where the real news breaks, and there’s nothing on a weird haze there too, so you figure that you’re the first person to notice this and you’re going to tweet about it and start a trending hashtag and break some serious news like that guy who tweeted from Osama Bin Laden’s neighborhood about all of the planes and you’re going to have major impact not only on this news cycle about the weird haze, but it will probably result is some serious social or environmental policy changes and you’re going to name your first child Twitter and then you realize that your contacts are just dirty.
You can only list the age you’re turning on Facebook if you’re older than I am. Young folks, just keep it to yourself.
…you wake up after a night of two glasses of white wine super hung over, promise yourself that you won’t ever drink again because apparently you can’t handle booze at all anymore, and then think, “Oh crap. My mom’s 60th birthday party is a few weeks away and my dad’s totally going to expect me to drink. How can I handle that social pressure?”
Girl 1: I said Shalom to this guy at work today, you know, because it’s Jewish Easter. And then I was like, I don’t even know what that means really. It could just said fuck you!
Girl 2: Well, it means a lot of things. Hello, peace, congrats, that sweater looks good on you, and other stuff. So, you’re ok.
Ladies and gentelmen of the internet, that is my Jewish Easter gift to you.
Me: Going to a beach town in the winter is the best.
Friend: Really?
Me: Yeah, it’s all of the good parts of the beach without any of the bad parts like crowds, putting on sunscreen, being outside, salt water.
Friend: Then what are the good parts?
Me: Naps and watching She’s The Man on DVD. Duh.
A homeless guy yelled at me in French on my way home from yoga yesterday and it made me feel completely great that he thought I was a French lady. Even once I realized it was probably because he could see that I hadn’t shaved my legs in a while, I was still flattered.
#frenchwomendontgetfat #orhavefeelings
From me: Hi there. I seem to have lost my external hard drive. Any way you can ask the women who came to clean my apartment recently if they saw it or maybe even placed it somewhere new? Thanks so much. Not sure how I lost it.
From them: Hello. We asked and have no information. We all wondered how you could lose something in an apartment that small as well.
From me: Not what I meant.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I am not homeless, but I do work at Conde Nast and as such, do not have enough money to pay for this bus ride. Can anyone spot me the change? I’m serious. Full time at Conde.”
I gave him 30 cents.
Went to do my regular back up of my computer and I couldn’t find my external hard drive. My apartment is the size of a toddler’s playpen, so losing something is pretty impossible. I’m starting to think that someone stole it. Guys, please be on the lookout for anyone running a class called How To Write 3 Young Adult Books That You’ll Never Sell And Take Exclusively Unflattering Photobooth Pictures.” That’s the culprit.
(Dad, don’t worry. I still have Carbonite backing up my computer all the time. So, I’m just behind on my back up back up.)
Write an e-mail to your parents and cc you brother, thanking them profusely for a generous check they didn’t send you.
Little brothers, it never gets better.
Last week, I got my first physical since 1999. Isn’t it medically advised to get one of those every 14 years? The big headline from that appointment is that I’m totally healthy! High fives! The only little issue is that I seem to be Vitamin D deficient. Apparently, Vitamin D is something you get from a combo of stuff you eat and the sun. Who knew?
My doctor thinks that I could be deficient because I’m slightly overzealous with my sun protection regimen. I didn’t want to tell her that she might want to ask for her money back on that MD because I’m not slightly overzealous with my sun protection regimen. I am so far beyond overzealous that I’m not sure there’s a word to describe it and if there is, it probably starts with and X, Y, or Z. I didn’t make it that far in my SAT vocab book so I don’t know any words longer than two syllables that start with those letters. (That’s for real.)
I don’t just look like a vampire, I live my life like a vampire by avoiding the sun entirely and when I’m forced into daylight, I’m fully covered in SPF and a hat. I don’t just talk the vampire talk, I walk the vampire walk. (That’s an old vampire saying.)
Anyway, the way to fix this Vitamin D deficiency is to either spend time in the sun sans SPF, which doesn’t seem smart to me because of wrinkles and cancer, but mostly wrinkles, or get a UV lamp that I spend 20 minutes with a day. I’ve been looking into UV lamps and the only reasonably priced ones are the lamps you buy for reptile cages. Like, for tropical snakes that need to bask in the sun. Is this seriously what my doctor meant? Anyone out there with some Vitamin D knowledge or UV lamp recommendations to drop on me?
(And yes, of course I’m really hoping Vitamin C reads this blog and comments with Vitamin D info. Did you even have to ask?)
Dear whomever’s in charge of stuff like this (Al Roker? God? Al Roker-God?),
When the blizzard comes, will you have it knock out everything but my computer’s ability to stream Friday Night Lights season 5, so I’m not distracted by work or stalking pregnant high school acquaintances? I really need to focus this weekend.
Thanks in advance and please get in touch directly with any questions.
Julie
Ok, Soap.com, we get it. You love your own tag line.
Do you ever feel like Rachael Ray is asking for a little too much credit for her 30 minute meals? Like we all do that, Rachael. Sit down.
Yesterday I made (heated up) this entire Indian veggie meal and then INVENTED my own dessert of not warmed up hot fudge on a spoon dipped in chocolate sprinkles and ate no less than 6 servings of it all in under one Hulu-ed episode of Ben & Kate.
Stoup that, Rachael. Stoup that.
And Food Network, if you’re looking for new talent, here’s my idea. It’s called “Look At What I Can Make And Eat In 22 Minutes And Still Not Feel Full From.” I can explain the concept in more detail in person. I have a Power Point.
Am I right in thinking it’s really sad when someone thanks everyone for the birthday wishes before their birthday is even over?
Am I right in posting, “Don’t worry, sweetie. It gets better,” in response?
You know how sometimes you get super drunk off the one and a half glasses of wine you nursed all night because you basically haven’t eaten since 2012 (New Year’s Resolutions!) and on your way home, you stop by Subway sandwiches and you’re like, “I know it’s way late. Have you started serving breakfast yet?” and the guy at the counter is all, “Ma’am, it’s 8:30pm,” and all you can think is, “Bottom line: I’m thirty, flirty, and fearless.”
What’s a normal amount of times for this to happen a week?
“New tube of toothpaste! This is it, Julie. Your chance to start over. Turn over a new leaf. A fresh beginning is now.”
Pretty sure this is the inner monologue of someone who’s decided to sober up because he just met his long lost daughter who needs a place to live and a sense of family, not the inner monologue of someone who just opened a tube of Colgate Optic White.
