Okay, I try to avoid voodoo magic, but I can’t help but pass this link my little sister just sent me on to you guys: http://paulsadowski.com/numbers.asp. All you have to do is type in your full birth name and you will receive an instant personality assessment based on numerology. Let me know if it is as eerily spot-on for you as it was for me. Creepy. Cue music please: doo-doo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo-doo.
I must admit the main reason I read Seventeen as a teenager was for the “Traumarama” section. I’m sure it’s why you do too. Why is it that others always want to know about our Most Embarrassing Moment (M*E*M)?
We all witnessed Ashlee Simpson's M*E*M on SNL. Oh well. At least she played it cool by exiting with a jig and then blaming it all on her band. :)
I’ve found that real “embarrassing moments” are less “ha ha” humorous and more “how could this happen?” horrifying. Of course, those aren’t the stories people want - they’re just too painful to hear. On the other hand, they also don’t want a story that was only a little embarrassing. The time you walked out of the school bathroom with TP stuck to your stiletto just isn’t that funny. And the request for M*E*Ms always seem to come at the most unexpected moments when you find yourself among a crowd of semi-strangers who are waiting on the edge of their seats to hear your tale. So as not to be caught off guard, I like to keep one (with just the right amount of embarrassment) in my back pocket to pull out for just such occasions. Here’s my rehearsed M*E*M:
“When I was a freshman in high school, my friends and I participated in a scavenger hunt type activity with several other groups of kids. Once the hunt was over, the trail lead all of our groups to someone’s house where a trampoline and a large spread of assorted donuts were awaiting us.
“Now donuts were a novelty in my family growing up. We lived on the outskirts of town, far from any donuts shoppes, so dunkin’ fresh donuts in the morning was never really an option for us. However, that year, I had begun taking a class that bribed us for good behavior and attendance with Donut Day every Friday. It was during one of said Donut Days that I was first introduced to the custard-filled donut, a delicacy in its own right. It was love at first bite, and I thus put a formal claim on one each week thereafter.
“To my delight, there was one of these custard-filled dreams rubbing shoulders with all of the fritters and crullers on the dessert table at this gathering. After making my obvious pick, my friends and I made our way over and on to the trampoline. There were about ten of us on there, just standing around, eating our donuts. Now, I don’t know about you, but I was raised with the belief that one should announce when they are going to do a flip and/or any other type of trick on the trampo when others are present. Apparently, there was one among us that night who had not yet received such training. I was walking from one friend over to another when - all of a sudden - I was hit! Not by a fist, but by a foot! This friend of mine - who was the #1 shot put and discus thrower at our jr. high if that tells you anything - had done a front flip out of nowhere and was currently landing on my face. Her body pushed me all the way down as it fell on top of me.
“Now if that was not enough trauma for a 14-year-old to undergo in front of dozens of her peers, let us please remember what I was consuming at the time. The scare of the abrupt blow to my forehead had caused me to duck and cover, throwing my hands - and consequently, my custard-filled donut - into my face. When I arose from the collision, I looked like the casualty of a pie-throwing clown - I was literally dripping in custard. I was so furious, I yelled something along the lines of ‘WHAT WERE YOU THINKING!?!’ and threw the little bit of donut that I still had clenched in my trembling fist at the girl who had just used me as a gym mat. Then, in an effort to appear the victim, the culprit started off the trampoline with a limp, complaining that my head was ‘really hard.’ I blew off her attempt for attention and fled to the bathroom with J (see previous post) where I: first, had to deal with actually seeing my custard-face in the mirror; and second, had to rinse a good percentage of my entire head (hair included) in a foreign sink without making my mascara run. We immediately fled the scene, but I did have to go to school the next day with strategically styled bangs to cover the physical scrapes and emotional scars. Needless to say, the term ‘Donut Day’ has taken on a whole new meaning, and custard-filleds are no longer my favorite member of the donut family.”
Epilogue: No worries. Shot put girl and I were friends again soon after.
So there it is. My Most Embarrassing Moment. Dang it! - now I’m going to have to think of a different story to tell at parties.
So tell me…what is your M*E*M? And more importantly: Did it involve custard?
Throughout junior high and high school, I had several BFFs. Here’s a rundown of each:
B and S know very well the rollercoaster that teen best friendship is.
J - Best friend carried over from elementary school. Very smart. Announced she was running for ASB President before I could. Changed the spelling of her name when she saw her birth certificate and realized her mom had been letting her misspell it since kindergarten. Walked from one end of town to another with me when we took the bus there and couldn’t figure out how to get back. Did school announcements together over the intercom. Friendship fizzled after I took too long to return a couple of beanies of hers. Didn’t see her for years until one very foggy day during Christmas break in college when she stopped at the nearest house to get her bearings - that house happened to be mine. Recently reconnected with her on Facebook. Still super smart.
T - Became BFFs with her after a week at church camp together. Very artistic. Known for being a little ditzy. Activity we did the first time I went over to her house: shrinky dink barrettes. Lived in her pool all summer long. Did EVERYTHING together. Went on vacation with each other’s families. Walked to Taco Bell often. Introduced me to MTV at her house. Hosted many, many sleepovers. Made up dances. Remained friends even when we went to different high schools. Had a forest in her backyard. Drifted a bit during college when our lives went different directions. Reconnected when I lived at home for a few months before my wedding. One of my bridesmaids. Get random emails and packages from her every now and then. Still love her.
P - Became BFFs with her after a week at church camp together. Super star soccer player. Hung out with boys together. Lived on completely opposite ends of town from each other. Had an awesome aquarium in her room. Loved going out on her boat. Two weeks younger than me. Got our licenses and cars when we turned 16. Drove all over together. Skipped Health to go out to breakfast on occasion. Had tons of fun. Pretty, but needed validation constantly. Had super untrusting parents who were always checking up on us. Dad had the name of a Simpson’s character. Relationship ended during the summer. Lived too far apart from each other and started hanging out with different people. Saw her wedding photos on MySpace. Looked beautiful.
M - Reason relationship with P fizzled. Became BFFs after I made cheerleading. Already was on cheer. Very responsible. Went on a trip together before we were friends. Was not happy her friend had brought me. Sat at a table together in the back of English while everyone else were at desks. Had constant sleepovers and fast food. Let her drive my car a few times before she turned 16 - stupid, but she was a better driver than me. Did a lot of people watching. Wrote notes to each other when we were bored in class. Drifted a bit when I was out of school for a while from a car accident. Reconnected. Send each other packages. One of my bridesmaids. Don’t talk often enough on the phone. Pick up right where we left off. Still very responsible.
N - Became BFFs working together as counselors at a kids summer camp. Worked there three summers total together. Both cheerleaders. Both frequent movie goers. Big hecklers. Roomed together on a fieldtrip to an out-of-state Shakespeare Festival with our class. Did a lot of waxing, plucking, bleaching, and facial masks together. Went to the drag races. Laid on top of her roof. Laughed like crazy - her grandma thought we should work professionally for laugh tracks. Slept in her playhouse because her family had outgrown their house. Had lots of deep discussions. One of my bridesmaids. Don’t talk often enough on the phone. Pick up right where we left off. Doctor now. Still have plans of becoming beauty pageant judges together someday.
Of all of my BFFs, I only exchanged best friend jewelry with J and T. J and I had one of those broken hearts necklaces, and T and I had puzzle rings that fit together. If I were still into giving my best friends jewelry, I think I would give them this:
or this:
How would you summarize your best friend/s? Do you give each other BFF jewelry? Or are back-to-back, folded-arm best friends pics at Wal*Mart still the classiest way to go?
You’re halfway to the weekend.
Need a little midweek boost? Try your hand at some of these completely addicting games to destress, and tell me which one is your fave. I apologize in advance for the time you will waste doing this. 
Today is Mardi Gras, which (and I sadly didn’t put this together until my early 20s) means “Fat Tuesday” in French. It’s the “feast before the fast” - a time to live it up before the sober time of temperance known as Lent that begins on Ash Wednesday and ends on Easter Sunday. This period before Lent is usually marked with huge street celebrations you’ve heard of, such as Mardi Gras in New Orleans or Carnaval in Brazil, the likes of which are undoubtedly defined by acts of debauchery.
Some older kids at my high school (which was located nowhere near New Orleans) liked to celebrate Fat Tuesday by giving each other Mardi Gras beads and then hanging them from their rear view mirrors as proof of their popularity to themselves for months to come. I thought this whole charade was silly. It seemed so copycat, so wannabe to me. I have recently become aware of a tradition I wish I had known about during high school that blows the whole bead thing out of the water.
Pancake Day, or Pancake Tuesday, takes place on Shrove Tuesday (the same day as Fat Tuesday) in the UK, Ireland, Australia, and some parts of Canada. As a way to use up all of their dairy, eggs, and fat (foods that were typically abstained from during Lent), original observers began making pancakes on the day before Ash Wednesday, and hence, Pancake Tuesday was born . With so many pancakes flying about, it seemed only obvious to use the excess for such activities as pancake races and tossing games, in which participants presently range from housewives to vicars. How had I never heard of this before? Pancake Day is tops, no?
So this year, I suggest abandoning the beads that only remind you of where you most likely (and hopefully) AREN’T and throw your own pancake party with your family and/or friends tonight. Admit it. Breakfast for dinner has never seemed so cool.
Having a hard time imagining this foreign tradition? Watch the clip above and (along with loving the narrator) enjoy watching clergymen race in their robes while flipping pancakes. And no, this is not made up.
Happy Monday! Don’t you just love waking up to a whirlwind of responsibilities after a worry-free weekend?! Yeah, me too. As you can probably gather, I’ve slept through my fair share of alarm clocks in my life. My sister still likes to reenact the not-so-pretty face I made one morning years ago when I slid Risky Business-style into her room after we both slept through our alarms and I missed my flight. Wonderful.
As much as I dislike saying so long to Mr. Sandman, I will admit that I do like playing the role of an alarm clock on occasion. I used to love to disruptively wake up my roommates by bouncing at the foot of their beds, singing our college’s fight song beginning with the chorus: “Rise and shout…” It only seemed appropriate. I don’t know - maybe they would’ve preferred one of these gizmos to one of my whimsical wake up calls.
Replace your clunky wood-paneled alarm clock with this funky aqua Clocky.
You’ve probably heard about the Clocky. It’s a rolling alarm clock that forces you to scramble chaotically around your room until you are successfully able to chase it down and turn if off, helping you make that oh-so-unpleasant jump out of the bed and into the day. Sounds kind of fun/kind of annoying. For precautionary measures, I think it should only be used by those with Mary Poppins-par tidy rooms; otherwise, I’m pretty sure serious injury could occur. So what do you think? Would you rather wake up to: my peppiest vocals and self-choreographed cheer moves OR a super cool-looking robot clock from the future? I know. The choice is obvious, right?
My oldest sister was our high school’s 1985 homecoming queen - a true teen queen of the 80s. She and all of her shoulder padded friends were - and continue to be - complete Diet Cokeheads (that’s a Heathers reference). It’s a total generational thing with them. I enjoy a Diet Coke with a lime as much as anyone, but my true drink of choice is Dr. Pepper. However, because I don’t like to drink my calories, I try to drink it’s diet counterpart when I go out (if available), and it’s absolutely the only type of soda I keep in the house. (You’ll know I’ve given up when I allow caloried soda to occupy space in my fridge. That’s waaaay too dangerous for me.)
Never tried DDP’s aspartame goodness?
Click here to try it for free.
One very windy morning a few weeks ago, I put my overflowing recycling bin out on the curb for collection. About an hour later, I suddenly realized my stupidity and quickly peered out the window to see if any damage had been done. How can I accurately relay the image I beheld? There were roughly a hundred thousand Diet Dr. Pepper cans blanketing our entire street. I may as well have just spray painted my name on everyone’s lawns. My fingerprints were everywhere! (Don’t worry. My still pajama-clad self gathered up the cans before any riots began.) Once the whole mess was rectified, my sole concern was that I only filled about half the bin that time. Who knew that Diet Dr. Pepper cans were so aerodynamic? Apparently, those missing cans were destined for bigger and better things on someone else’s street.
So that brings me to the ever-looming question: What’s this up-and-coming-generation’s beverage of choice? Please feel free to let me know what’s your fave. You’re going to tell me something like energy drinks or Sobes, right? Yeah, I knew you guys were cooler than me.
Now here's a different take on Dr. Pepper. Hmmm...weird.
What is it with our intrinsically human desire to create things? Whether it’s with beads, boards, a hot glue gun, or a hammer, there’s something that just feels good about creating a finished product. Unfortunately, I’ve never considered myself too crafty; I just don’t have the skills. The closest I get to crafting is shopping at Anthropologie.
When I was 19, my then boyfriend (now husband) and I decided to exchange homemade presents at Christmas since we were starving students at the time. With the help of his mom and her super expensive embroidery machine, he monogrammed a few hand towels and a bath robe with my initials on them; they looked totally professional! I, on the other hand, made him a bejeweled mosaic flowerpot that your little sister could have made. (I don’t think I was ever intended to work with grout.) He literally laughed when he opened it. I know - mean, huh? I’ve never quite lived that one down (and neither has he).
See...it looked cool in the magazine.
If you are unlike me and actually able to make cool things, let me know what your specialty is and then go to Etsy.com. For a small fee, you can sell your handmade wares online. So come on, don’t hide your talents under a bushel - sell them! Besides, it’s a better way to make a buck than babysitting, right?
Yesterday, I was in the Juniors section at Nordstrom (Brass Plum if you will) buying some gaudy fake jewelry when I saw a stack of Xeroxed, fairly homemade-looking fliers sitting on the cashier’s countertop. Of course I was intrigued, so I slyly stuffed one into my bag (I didn’t want to look too interested) and proceeded with my purchases. Once I got home, I pulled out the flier to find the text below typed in Comic Sans MS font (I know that font well; I used to write all my high school papers in it because it took up more space). To avoid any accusations of plagiarism, I do not take any credit for the following information:
How to Wear Boyfriend Jeans
Fit First:
Find a pair that fits you through the waist and hips
Cuff:
Cuffing your jeans is the EPITOMY of this style
Top if off!:
Keep the style simple with…
Okay, it’s me again. I’m guessing you don’t feel quite like the risk-taking fashionista you thought you were when you see instructions for your new style in the Juniors section of a major department store, do you? Though, I’ll admit, I did find this flier informative as I was virtually unaware of this new trend. I mean, I’ve seen the unattractive pictures of Katie Holmes where we were wondering if she had accidentally slipped on Tom’s jeans that morning, but I had no idea that this had caught on. I decided to check out Nordstrom.com for some more examples of this style. There were a few pairs that seemed passable, but really those just looked like slightly baggier capris - not bona fide boyfriend jeans. On the other hand, the ones that I believed held true to the guidelines given on my precious flier were far from flattering.
Exhibit A
Exhibit B - Suspenders? Really?
Here’s the deal. Your clothes will always date you. I thought the clothes I wore when I was a teenager would never go out of style, and now I look back with utter amazement at how much fashion has changed since then (platform tennies anyone?). To save yourself from embarrassment in the future (and all the good laughs at your expense), you have to be wise whilst deciding which trends to ignite and which ones to ignore. Allow me to give you a word of advice on how to make this tough decision. The next time you’re looking into one of those ever-so-slimming fitting room mirrors, ask yourself these two simple questions: Is this look timeless (think Audrey Hepburn)? Or will it time out (think Amy Winehouse)? Hopefully, that will help you determine whether to cuff or not to cuff. Tell me what you decide. I think you know where I stand (and it’s not in a pair of these puppies). Let your boyfriend keep his jeans.
How do you think Lindsay's going to feel about boyfriend jeans in 10 years? You've looked better Linds.
Lily Allen is stalking me right now. Of course, she’s just everywhere promoting her new album, “It’s Not Me, It’s You,” but I do kind of feel like I can’t shake her presence. Anyway, I was trying to figure out what to blog about when lo and behold I look up to see her on yet another TV show singing her super cool song, “The Fear.” The first time I heard it, I had to find it on YouTube immediately. Then it only won more points with me because I loved the video. (I’m a sucker for anything with lots of color, dancing, and a little weirdness.) Plus anything that mocks excessive consumption is alright by me.
Since Lily’s a bit of a potty mouth, enjoy a clean version of her song here and let me know how you like it. (Now maybe she’ll leave me alone.)
