Don't Expect Anything

I have naturally curly hair. Over the years, I've come to never expect my hair to do anything I want. Life is like naturally curly hair - unpredictable. You can't expect anything … from anyone. The quicker you learn that, the happier you'll be.

When you expect something to turn out a certain way and it doesn't, that's when we, as the crazy beings we are, get all upset. But, in reality, we shouldn't be upset at all.

We expect that guy we met at the bar to call. He doesn't, and we get all pissy. But, guess what … he was probably a shit head and we should try to look at the positive reasons behind him not calling.

We have one amazing Friday night, and then we expect every Friday night that follows to be that wonderful. It's not going to happen … it'll just be a let down.

This is what you need to do. Do not have any expectations. Don't expect people to be on time. Don't expect all your roommates to pay their bills on the first of every month. Don't expect some guy to be "the one" after two dates. It's hard to enjoy the way life unfolds when you're constantly being let down by some foolish expectations, set by your foolish self.

If you don't allow high expectations to enter your mind, then you won't be all pouty and disappointed when things don't go exactly your way. Remember, just because something didn't go your way, doesn't mean it didn't go the way it was supposed to.

So, stop expecting, and start having fun with the way things are … in the moment … right now. I'm even kind of in love with my hair. Even on the bad days.

How To "Get It In The Bag."

You know what I'm talking about. Sometimes you play your cards just right. The guy falls for you and you tell your friends, with that half determined-half sexy look on your face, "I've got it in the bag." To put it simply, this feeling rocks. Here's how to get there:

1. Some people are unforgettable. Be one of them. If you're like every other girl in his life, that's exactly who you'll be … just another girl.

2. You might have amazing boobs, a great ass or legs for days. That's good, but guess what … so do millions of other girls. It all comes down to personality and confidence babe. Let your personality hang out instead of your boobs. Walk into the bar you both hang out at like you own the place. Flash a smile that would catch the President's attention. You get the idea.

3. Be yourself around him. So, you color coordinate the items in your fridge. You dance a little bit while waiting on the subway platform. Your conversations with your cat always help you make important decisions. Whatever it is … don't hide it. Men love that shit. It makes you different. They're now intrigued.

4. Rely on face to face interaction. Don't text. When you text, you may be interrupting his day, waking him from a nap, etc. Men don't desire that, and you don't want to be an interruption. Be the girl whose arm he could reach out and touch each time he communicates with you. Soon he'll be texting your ass, making plans to see you. (Now it's appropriate to respond … and actually calling would be good too.) And, if you have a drunk text habit (we've all been there) don't take his number, or don't save it in your phone. No number, no temptation, no texting.

5. To get something going, face to face is a good idea. Pelvis to pelvis … not such a good idea. If you really want to have it all in the bag, don't sleep with him right away. I know, it's hard … you really want to … you're both in a bar bathroom that's actually pretty clean. Too bad, don't have sex with him. Hold out as long as you can. It's been said that, "Women fall fast, men fall hard." It's true and it takes men longer to fall for you. You know they want to sleep with you, but in the mean time, let them get to know that awesome personality I've been talking about. Trust me, this works. As he gets to know you, he'll want to sleep with you even more - not just because you're hot, but because he truly appreciates who you are.

By following these five simple suggestions, you'll hook him. And, if it's not going in that direction, you'll be able to tell. Then it's time to bag another man.

Dear Dad …

Dear Dad,

I still can't believe it's been 10 years since I've heard your laugh. Ten years since you told me I was beautiful. Ten years since you played your favorite Frankie record in the living room.

Mom is doing well. She's still beautiful on the inside and out. She still has a ridiculous amount of clothes, and you would love what she's done with the kitchen. There's a new cocker spaniel in the house … Bella is her name. She's cute, but a little naughty at times and would drive you nuts. Oh, and Mom is retired now. She's traveled to Germany, and is even going to Vegas in a few weeks. She is still not afraid of anything. She's kept your collectibles in the basement. All the radios, records and memorabilia that you cherished. You always said, "They'll be worth something someday." I think we'd rather keep them than find out. Thank you for not being afraid to go up to Mom and ask if you could eat lunch with her that one afternoon at the Cozy Kitchen. This past week you would have celebrated your 38th wedding anniversary. I know she misses you everyday. I know she'd give anything to have a cup of tea with you after dinner, just like you used to every night. But, don't worry, she has so many people in her life who love her.

Kimberly, your youngest pride and joy, is living her dream. She's married to a wonderful man, living in Wisconsin and changing lives as a nurse. Even though it's only been a year, they're already looking for a house. And, you can relax … they're huge Packer fans and never miss a game. I'm pretty sure you would have liked watching games with her husband, Dan. He gets nervous just like you used to. They were Superbowl champs last year. I wish you could have seen that game. It was marvelous. You'd be so happy and proud of Kimber. On her wedding day, she was so beautiful. That little girl who used to play board games with you has grown into an amazing woman.

As for me, I guess you could say I'm your wild child. After graduating from college at the University of Wisconsin-Madison (Go Badgers), I became a reporter at a couple of local newspapers, and continued to live in Madison for a few years. I remember how you wouldn't even drive in that city. Whenever I was stuck and frustrated with traffic, I'd think of you.

Then, when I was 26, something told me to move to New York City. I packed some suitcases, found some roommates online and moved to Brooklyn. If you were here, I think you would have chained me to my apartment in Wisconsin … even Mom was worried for me. She still wants me to come back home. But, this city was made for me, even though it can beat you down sometimes and take all your money, I know I could never leave. Mom has even come to visit me a few times. She's become a master of the subway, loved the Statue of Liberty and even sat with me at my favorite dive bar. I'm pretty sure you wouldn't love riding the subway as much as I do. And, I can tell you one thing, it's not as fun as riding in the back seat of your 1966 Dodge Cornet. I miss that.

My last name is still Becker, and I plan to keep it that way, even after I walk down the aisle … someday.  Until then, I'm enjoying life, having fun and making the most of every experience. Oh, you'll love this … I started taking tap classes here in the city. These classes are tough, but my teachers are some of the most amazing dancers in the nation, and I'm learning so much from them. So, thank you for always taking Kimberly and I to our dance classes and sitting in the waiting room with a bunch of dance moms.  It's a good thing you always had one of your favorite Mickey Spillane novels with you. You must be the reason I have a passion for crime novels. Actually, did you know Spillane was born in Brooklyn? I guess this was all meant to be.

Even though you aren't physically here anymore, you still teach me so much. Because of you, everyone I care about knows it. You can be here one day and gone the next. Telling people how much I care about them is not an option for me. It's a must. Thank you for teaching me about good music … for sharing your love of Frank Sinatra, Elvis and Rock n' Roll. Thank you for always telling me I'm beautiful. Even when some boy made me cry and the mascara I took from mom's make up cabinet was running down my face, you'd tell me I was beautiful (and that the boy was a fool). Thank you for making me see that all we really have is today and for reminding me that money and possessions are not a way to measure life. Thank you for always being proud of me. Because of that, I am now proud of myself. Most of all, thank you for being you. For being a wonderful husband, son and father. Because of you, I am who I am today. I think I've turned out pretty well. I still have the long hair you always loved. I still talk too much during dinner. And, I'm still a little kid at heart.

Tonight, I'll dream of the nights we'd dance to the oldies in the living room. And of that orange carpet and the yellow rocker we'd sit in during story time. I'll hear you sing, in your lowest voice possible, "What a Wonderful World."

Taking The Liner Too Far

I love eyeliner. I believe that the cat eye is one of the greatest make up looks of all time. But then, some company has to take it too far.

This time, I'm talking about Dior. Before I go any further, I'd like to say that I have a tremendous amount of respect for this company. They put out amazing and high-quality products … and I bet this eyeliner (if you can call it that) is right up there with the rest of their make up line. The question is, how necessary is this? What is the art of make up coming to?

Let me start by filling you in on this new product. Dior make up artists have created a set of multi-wear adhesive eyeliner patches. That's right … it's a set of four pairs: two plain black, one with small anthracite grey crystals and one more with white crystals (Swarovski crystals to be exact). And, how perfect, since they are said to fit any eye shape, since they're adjustable.

The Dior Backstage Eyeliners To-Wear Multi-Wear
Adhesive Eyeliner Patches are selling at Sephora for $59. Would you invest in them?

Take a look for yourself. In my opinion they're a little too much (unless you're a fashion model, and in that case you probably have your own make up artist anyways). But, the fact that they're on the gaudy side isn't the worst of it for me.
Recently, make up companies are giving us (women and men who wear make up) no credit. Many companies are assuming that we all just want everything to be convenient and un-original. Well, I'm sorry, but I don't want my eyeliner to look exactly like anyone else's at the bar. Then your only option is to be upset with yourself for not wearing pair number 3. But … wait, if you would have done your own make up, the whole situation would have been avoided.

This brings me to my second point. For me (and I know I'm not alone), make up is an art. One of my good friends, Gabe Fuller (check him out, he's amazing) has been my make up guru for the last year. I remember one night he was teaching me the cat eye. I asked him how he got to be so good at it and he said, "I'm an artist. I draw, I paint, I know how to use my hand. It takes practice to get the motion down." So, practice I did, and I now wear the cat eye all the time.

For me, that was some of the best make up advice I've ever received. I finally understood the importance of applying your own make up, and making your face a canvass. Everyone should experience perfecting the cat eye or the red lip that compliments your skin tone.

Finding the right lip stick or gloss, or the right gel, liquid or pencil liner that will achieve the look you want is also part of the experience. It's just like fake nails. Anyone can glue on plastic nails, but it takes time and effort to maintain and take care of your nails. Anyone can also put eyeliner patches on their eye lids … but you'll be missing out on the part where you look in the mirror and say, "Damn, my eyes look great tonight," followed by a self high five.

So … this is my advice. Pick out one of the other fabulous eyeliners Dior has to offer. Learn how to do your make up yourself, like the big girl (or boy) you are … and embrace the art of make up.

One Of Those Days Always Means One Of Those Nights …

"I'm leaving by midnight." Yeah right. The dj will play Elvis and the next thing you know it's 1 am … then 1:30 am … you get the picture. Now, if you're a night-lifer, who also has a day job, there's plenty you can do to fake the 8 hours of good sleep you didn't get. (Hey, it's not your fault you were called to the bar by a higher power.)

When you didn't have steady work, going to the bar for cheap beers on Monday night was a good idea. But, now that you have a great job, you've decided to be a responsible adult and go to bed at 11 pm. Then again, we all need a little tradition every once in a while. So, when your alarm scares you awake at 7:30 am, here's how you pull yourself together.

As soon as you get out of bed, grab your favorite pain killer. You may not have a headache at the moment, but rush hour on the train will create one. Stop it before it starts. After drinking a gallon of water, you'll be ready to put on your work appropriate make up. On days like this, go with a little mascara and a bright red lip. You see, the lip color distracts people from looking at your droopy eyes. Plus, red lips just make you look like a woman in charge. Even though I usually stay away from adding additional eye make up (besides mascara) on days like this, sometimes a small amount of gold eyeshadow in the inside corner of your eyes really makes you look perky.

Now, accomplish the same attitude with your outfit. There is something about a blazer that looks professional, yet relaxed. My go-to is an off-white, almost tuxedo style blazer. The key is to wear something you don't typically wear. See, I always wear black, so putting on something that deviates from my fashion norm shocks and excites me. Plus, people will notice that it's not something you would typically wear and you'll receive compliments. Just like the lipstick trick, people will be distracted from any looks of death that may be on your face. But, make sure you don't look like you tried too hard … that screams "I feel terrible, but look how fancy I am with my matching dress, shoes and nail polish."

Since the sweat from your dancing binge most likely ruined your hair, get out the dry shampoo and fix any out of control pieces with the curling iron. If you're running short on time (a likely possibility), then screw it. That's why the ponytail was invented.

I can't speak for everyone, but my favorite hang out has a certain smell to it. Personally, I love it. It's safe and familiar … like walking into mom's kitchen after she bakes chocolate chip cookies. OK, not at all, but you're following, right? Even though you know the stench lingering in your hair is from the bar, to everyone else you just stink. Get out your favorite perfume, but don't go overboard. A couple sprays will do, no French bath needed.

On your commute to work, it's very important to listen to music that wakes you up and makes you happy. It's not a good idea to fall asleep on the train/bus. You'll probably miss your stop since you'll be half sleeping and half passed out. If you drive to work, blast the AC and pretend your dashboard is a piano (Great Balls of Fire by Jerry Lee Lewis is the best dash piano song. Ever.)

Finally, you're at work. If your place of employment has coffee, drink a few cups (if not, get some … this is NYC, there's one coffee shop to every blonde-haired girl). Obviously it's going to help, and by 11:45 am, you'll feel pretty normal. But don't be fooled. In less than an hour you'll want to rest your head on your keyboards space bar and take a nap. This is where snacking helps. Pour a small bowl of cheerios. Don't add milk … instead eat them one by one. It will take a long time to finish them, and during that time you will be awake (instead of doing that head nod/jerk thing that happens when you close your eyes for a second).

Once you've made it past 2 pm, you're golden. There's always more coffee, more cheerios and red lipstick. Most importantly, you spent a night with people you love, dancing to your favorite songs and singing out loud … all with a whiskey in hand.  And now you have a reason to put on that outfit you love, but don't wear enough.

In five years you won't remember how many cups of coffee you had those Tuesday mornings, but I bet you'll remember those Monday nights.

Airport Etiquette

After coming back from a trip to Wisconsin, I realized the times I was the most annoyed were at the airport. It's not that difficult … but some people just don't know how to behave. So, here's a short manual on the topic. Take notes. Please.

Before the plane.
As soon as you get to the airport, know what you need to do, and what line you should be in. Did you check-in online? If so, it's not a good idea to stand in the "check-in" line with your party of 15, when you've already gone through the process. If you're like me, and early for everything, be nice and ask the people behind you what flight they are on. If it's before yours, let them go ahead of you. You'd appreciate it if you were running late, so let them in on the feeling. Plus, do you really want to sit at Gate D53, listening to 23 cell conversations longer than you have to?

Now, really pay attention here. I'm going to talk about the security checkpoints. This is where people get really rude. It takes a lot for me to not hit people with those plastic bins that you have to put your shit in. First of all, nobody has shoes on. Make sure you don't drop your 39 pound carry-on bag on someone's foot. That's going to hurt and will probably result in some yelling and cursing. Then, TSA employees come over and have to calm down the person with the throbbing foot. Basically, I'm saying it's not a good idea to drop your suitcase on someone's bare foot. If it happens, please apologize. Duh.

Next, when you get all of your stuff into the plastic bins, be patient. Don't push and shove your bins. Relax … your turn will come. If you're in that much of a hurry, then maybe you need to get your ass to the airport 30 minutes earlier. And, if you're just being an asshole, stop for the five minutes it takes to get through the x-ray machine.

Even if you were up at 3 am for your flight, don't pack all of your 8 and 12 oz. fluids in your carry on. First of all, you look like a fool. Secondly, you may be placed in one of those glass cages while they search your bag … since you're now a security threat. All of this because you put your hairspray, nail clippers and nail polish remover (which is flammable) in your carry on bag. Sometimes, it's just a matter of simple thinking.

When you're eliminated as a threat, you're on your way to finding out if your flight is actually on time. If it is, then great … wait to board, get on the aircraft and be happy. But, if there's a delay, don't have a temper tantrum. If your nine-year-old daughter is behaving better than you, there's a problem. And just because you're bored and frustrated, don't call up your cell phone company and complain about every time your phone locks up. It's not the time and place for that. No one wants to hear your bitching. Browse Facebook, Twitter, download a few apps … just be quiet.

On the Plane.
Once you are actually on the plane (Alleluia), hold your bags in a position so they're not hitting every person you pass. Trust me, a leather briefcase in someone's jaw is not how a plane ride should begin … for anyone. If you are traveling alone and you're safely sitting in your window seat 14F, check to see if anyone around you is separated from their friends/family. If giving up your seat would make it possible for a father to sit with his son, then do it. It will be worth it when you see how excited the little boy gets over a window seat.

During the trip, be nice to the flight attendants. Think of all the jerks they deal with each day … people making ridiculous complaints about putting too much ice in their tomato juice, or people who insist on getting up the last five minutes of the flight to piss (when they've had the past two hours to do so). Just sit, with your seatbelt on and play the air drums. I don't know … it helps me.

When the time has come to get off the plane and all you want is a beer, make sure you carefully remove your bag from the overhead storage bins. That 39 pound suitcase is also going to hurt if you drop it on someone's head … and you don't want to ruin anyone's good hair day, now do you?

Off the plane.
There's not a lot you can mess up at this point. But, if you have to go to the bathroom, don't piss all over the toilet. (Yes, women, this is for you.) Maybe you need to work on your thigh muscles more so you can achieve and master the piss squat. Whatever you have to do, just do it … there is no reason that urine should be all over the seat. Now, I have this down. I go to dive bars where you wouldn't dare let your skin touch the toilet seats. I have perfected my piss squat. Like Kelis, I can teach you … but I have to charge.

Oh, and don't take any luggage unless it's yours. I know … everyone has red or black suitcases. Do something to make yours stand out. I always tie a flashy scarf around the handles of my luggage. But, don't use a scarf you're in love with (like your $760 Hermes or even your $12 H&M scarf) … just in case it gets lost.

Now go fly. Properly.

One Rule All Women Should Live By

I don't care what you do to earn your money. I don't care what neighborhood you live in, or if you have fancy clothes and go to the most privileged clubs. All that matters is you're doing what you want … and because it's who you are. That being said, women need to throw out any and all rule books and live by this:

Never change who you are … for anyone, or for anything.

So, you don't think you're normal. Great. Embrace everything non-normal about you. The people that belong in your life will love every ounce of it. Screw the rest.

So, you don't want to laugh at some guys joke when he's sitting at the dinner table with you. Don't. Laughter comes from the heart, not from the girl in college who told you to laugh at every word a man says … even if it's not funny.

So, you like little bars with bad lighting and cheap drinks … opposed to clubs where you pay $30 to get in and sip on a $22 drink. Good for you. You don't have to go to places where you don't enjoy yourself just because people tell you to branch out and meet a "nice" guy.

If you aren't doing what you want and not being who you are, the friends you make and the man who falls in love with you, will really care about the persona you have created. At that point, it must be quite hard to keep up the show, in order to keep those people in your life.

Do what you want and be who you are. Your friends will love you for you (not your shoe collection … half of which you don't even like). The man that falls in love with you wouldn't want you to laugh at his lame joke. He'd probably rather have you laugh at him for telling it in the first place.

It's not an enjoyable life if you're trying so hard to not be yourself. You are who you are for a reason.

Fuck the people who want you to change.

You'll Never Change A Free Bird

Ladies … don't ever fall in love with a free bird. It's not going to work out. He's not going to wine and dine you. He's not going to want to take time out of his schedule to get to know you. You won't be gushing about him to your girlfriends. Instead, you'll be venting and asking a whole bunch of "what the hell is his problem?"

Actually, as much as it may suck to hear this, it's not really his problem. (Unless he's jerked you around for months pretending to be serious … then he's just an asshole.) It usually goes as follows. You fall for this dreamy guy … the one that's just your type. At first he likes the attention, but as soon as you want something more, he'll go all "I'm not good in relationships" on you. You can huff and puff all you want, but he's probably being honest.

For some reason these men want to be unattached. They feel like they have to in order to accomplish something. Maybe they're selfish … or maybe they're just trying to save great women from getting their hopes crushed.

I've been there with these types of guys. They're not jerks, they just know what they want. And, to put it bluntly, it's not a woman. That doesn't mean you are any less than amazing … and he knows that. Trust. It's been said before, and I'll say it again, "Never give your all to someone who doesn't want it."

Now, if you prefer the Rock n' Roll version, Lynyrd Skynyrd said it best, even though it took about nine minutes to get it out (granted, an amazing guitar solo takes up some time). The lyrics read, "Cause I'm as free as a bird now … and this bird you cannot change."

But, here's the key. You must know the difference between the free birds and the ones who wouldn't mind being caged up with you once in a while.

Products that Help a Woman Survive the Heat … and Look Beautiful Doing It.

One of the reasons I loathe summer weather is what it does to my hair. When you have naturally curly/wavy hair, the humidity can make your hair so big that people in Texas can see it. After many trips to Ricky's NYC, I found a couple of genius products.

2. Hair products that lock out humidity.

Year-round, I swear by my cheap, drugstore color-care shampoo, but my summer conditioner is the Keratin line from Rusk. This Keratin stuff is amazing. It's a little bit more pricey than drugstore options (it sells for around $17), but it's definitely worth it. It locks out humidity and leaves my hair manageable and easier to style. Because it's sodium free, it helps maintain the smooth and straight memory of your hair. This is key when it's 5 million degrees … who wants to be using a hot straightener in this weather?
Check it out: Rusk Deepshine Keratin Smoothing Conditioner

In addition to the conditioner, I also picked up an oil treatment by Rusk. This product, Rusk Sensories Wellness Heal Repair Drops with Organic Argan Oil, penetrates your hair and leaves it silky smooth. After one use, my hair wasn't course and frizzy like it usually is in the humidity. Plus, it's completely organic … for all you people who swear by everything organic. Oh, and it's color-safe … and sells for around $6.00. It may be a little bottle (1 fl. oz), but it goes a long way.

Find it here: Rusk Sensories Wellness Repair Organic Argan Oil

Basically, Rusk has saved my hair this summer. And, when something saves my hair, it pretty much saves my life.

Products that Help a Woman Survive the Heat … and Look Beautiful Doing It.

It's hot. And it's only going to get worse over the next few days. So, I'm going to start filling you in on some products that will keep you looking fabulous … even while your clothes are sticking to your body and you're thanking the man upstairs for your window AC (or praying for one).

1. A Great Primer    

As a woman, I know that you can walk into any Sephora store and find at least 20 different types of primer. Even with all those choices, I prefer to walk into a pharmacy and pick up L'Oreal's Studio Secret Magic Perfecting Base. It sells for around $12.99, and it is magical. As soon as you put it on your face, the texture improves and your pores begin to shrink. On the weekends, when I'm lazy, this is all I wear on my face (it's that good).

But, when I do get all dolled up, this is perfect under make up. Through sweaty subway rides, sticky bars, dancing, and any other physical activity, your make up stays put. After eight, even ten hours, my foundation doesn't drip off with my sweat. With a heat index of 110 degrees, anything that keeps your make up on through the work day (or the fun night) is worth a try.

Get it here (or read about it before heading to the pharm): http://www.ulta.com/ulta/browse/productDetail.jsp?productId=xlsImpprod1980035

Putting the Shoes Back On

When I was five years old I started tap dancing. When I was six, I started competing and won a first place trophy. I danced to Barry Manilow. My costume was full of gold sequins and a dramatic gold headpiece that I still have. The next decade was full of more shiny costumes, cans of hairspray, hooker make up, late night practicing, some tears and many, many smiles.

That was my childhood. I've never been to Disney or on a road trip to the Grand Canyon. The dance competitions were vacations. What would have been the vacation fund, went to private lessons, costumes and new shoes. (Here's where I mention my amazing parents. My Mom sewed costumes. My Dad drove me to all my lessons and sat in the waiting room with all the "dance moms." I was such a lucky child.)

When I was 16, I started teaching a beginner tap class for young children. I loved it. I bonded with those children, and I think I was more excited than they were when they final got the shuffle down. Then, just as classes were starting up for the fall of my second year, my dad passed away unexpectedly. After going through the roughest and most terrifying time of my life, I went back to teaching a month later. Maybe I wasn't ready, but it just wasn't the same. My heart wasn't in it, and I decided to move on.

It's now been a decade since I put on my tap shoes. I knew they would still fit. When my mom came to visit a few weeks ago I asked her to bring my black tap shoes with her (I also have a pair of tan shoes, but c'mon … we all know how much I love wearing black). She remembered, of course, and this past weekend I put them on. I didn't try them on at home first. I just packed them into a bag, headed to a studio, signed into a class, and finally … put on my shoes. I felt 16 again. I fell in love again. I was going to tap again.

With all my years of experience, I figured an Advanced Beginner course would be a breeze. I forgot that this is New York City. Everything is harder than it is anywhere else. This class was a challenge. Even though my self-esteem was taking a dive, I was keeping up with the class (for the most part). There were even a few steps where my technique was just as good as ever. I liked those moments. The moments where I threw my hands in the air, not so much. I'll get there … I know I will. The hardest part was putting on the shoes and walking into a class.

When it was over, I called my mom to tell her about the ups and downs of my first class in a decade. Her encouraging words helped, as did my ability to laugh at myself. All in all, I'm sure I wasn't that bad. One student even told me I did really well for not dancing in a decade. But, I'm just extra hard on myself. I figure if I take a couple classes a week, I should get comfortable in my shoes again in no time.

All I know is I was the sixth student to walk into the scratched up, wooden-floored room. The number six has always been good to me. And that goes all the way back to my first competition. That has to be a good sign.

I only wish I could have called my Dad to tell him. He would have told me to listen to "Daybreak" and let it all come back to me.

Part 2: How to Dress for a Formal Event When You're Used to Wearing Leather and Denim … and Other Useful Information

So what, I like dive bars. I like the people, the insanely disgusting bathrooms and the way my bartenders pour my whiskey. But sometimes you're summoned to an event that's either fancy in its entirety, or at the very least, at a fancy place.

It happened to me last week. It was a friend's birthday, so we were going to a fancy restaurant outside of the city. I was excited … maybe I'd meet someone nice and fall magically in love. Then I found out all the really rich people, the ones who insist on wearing Prada pajamas underneath their $2,200 cashmere robe, go to this place. I was still optimistic about the night and my only concern was … what am I going to wear?

In my world, you can never go wrong with black. I wear it all the time. It makes me happy. So, I decided to wear a simple black dress, a black cowboy-esque blazer and wedges. As I walked into this restaurant, a couple of older women gave me the stare down. In my head I told myself they couldn't possibly have recognized my $10 H&M dress, so what if my shoes were $30, my blazer was from a Goodwill store in Wisconsin and my necklace once belonged in my mom's jewlery box when she was 17.

After dinner, I went into the bathroom and I realized how different I felt from the other women around me. It was a good different. While I rummaged through my purse to find a buck or two to give to the bathroom attendant, I found myself proud to be who I am.

See, it takes a certain type of person to shop around at vintage and second-hand stores. Having your own taste, and not caring about the rest of the world, is a requirement. This is because no catalog, "dress like a celebrity" website or stylist is going to point you to a certain item. I like having style that's actually about style, and not just about a high price tag. Sometimes I even make parts of my outfits. It's the greatest feeling in the world. You know that no one has the exact same thing you're wearing. It's unique, and totally worth any hot glue gun burns you may have on your fingers.

After my bathroom breakthrough, I joined my friend at the bar. When I asked for a shot of whiskey, the bartenders looked at me as if no one has ever ordered a shot in the place. Then I saw that people around me, even men, were puzzled. After taking my shot with no problem, I asked for a beer. I told them they could just leave it in the bottle, but they insisted on pouring it into one of those fancy frosted glasses. That was the point when I realized none of the men in the bar were going to be approaching me. I'm pretty sure it wasn't because of my $10 dress. I don't think they understood a woman who would come to a swanky place and drink Jack Daniels and Budweiser.

Within five minutes of observing and sipping my beer from my fancy glass, I realized that most of the women were around my age. Then I realized most of the men were at least 25 to 30 years their senior. My friend told me many young women come to a place like this to find an older rich man. Before you hate on the women, he also said the men come here to find a younger woman to share their $3.4 million home with. I did notice three guys around my age. Unfortunately, they just talked about how cool they were and how big their muscles were. When I couldn't take any more and wanted to pluck my eyes out, I excused myself to get another beer. I moved so fast to the bar that I felt like a college kid having a "first bar" experience.

When this night came to an end, here's the knowledge I left with:

• Wear whatever the hell you want. Whenever you want. Wherever you want. 
• It doesn't matter how much money your outfit costs. It matters how you look and how you feel in it. 
• Nothing looks better than confidence. Men love it. Women are intimidated by it.
• A rich man who just wants to take care of a woman and have her shop all day, will never be the man for me. 
• I'd rather date a man who is more concerned with the size of his shit than the size of his wallet. 
• Give me a dive bar, beers in bottles and men wearing leather and tight jeans any day. Actually, just give me someone who can take a shot with me, and appreciate me for downing one. 
• I want dates to the Salvation Army store, with someone creative and passionate about life.
• Women … be thankful that you have a job and are supporting yourself. You shouldn't need a man, you should want one. 
• Don't go to places that aren't you, or be someone you aren't. If someone does fall for you, they won't be falling for the real you. Trust me, it'll come out someday.
• Forget about Prada pajamas. Just wear nothing. It will lead to better results. 

Does Prada even make pajamas? If I knew, I probably wouldn't have written this article. I should have asked the ladies in the bathroom.

Part 1: Every Woman Has The Exact Love Life She Wants

Lately, I've been told by some people that I just don't know what I'm doing. When it comes to relationships, that is. But, in all reality, I actually have a lot more figured out than people give me credit for. 

There was a movie that came out a few years ago … The Wedding Date. Debra Messing stars in this movie and her character doesn't have a date for her younger sister's wedding. So, she hires someone to be her date. Of course, this man, played by Dermot Mulroney (Google him, he's gorg), ends up falling in love with her. And, thank the baby J, she falls in love with him too. Oh, rom coms. I promise I am going somewhere with this. 

Before these two fall in love, Debra's character is bitching about her single life. Dermot's character says, in a newspaper article about himself that Debra is reading, "Every woman has the exact love life she wants." I have come to realize how incredibly correct that statement is. Shout out to the writers!

Think about it. Most of the strong, smart and independent women in the world got there because that's exactly what they wanted. If it was your goal to be married by age 25, I bet you accomplished it. Or maybe you wanted a rich, older man to put you in his $4 million house and dress you in Prada. 

The dude from The Wedding Date was on to something. Your love life is the way it is for a reason … You! I've always enjoyed being independent, meeting people, spending time with them, but making sure nothing gets to serious … because that's what I've always wanted. At some point, I may want more. But I didn't move to NYC to find a man and become a housewife. I could have done that in Wisconsin … by age 25. 

If you want something more, something less or just something … go after it. Think about what's not working and think about what could work. Maybe it won't, but you won't know until you try. And while you're trying, you might learn something great about yourself … and about the people around you. 

To be continued … 

Every woman has the exact love life she wants

Reflux and Relationships

Some people, such as Neil Sedaka, think breaking up is hard to do … but is it really? It's just giving up something (or someone) that isn't good for you. It should be easy. Well, it's not … but your body can only take so much bad stuff.

Now, it's not easy because so many people and things that are bad for us make us feel so good … to a point, that is. Take for instance someone who has intense acid reflux. (By intense I don't mean someone who chews a few Tums every couple of months. I'm talking about the people who consider a proton pump inhibitor a food group). I know so much about PPI's because I'm one of those people. My reflux gives me this chronic cough, which leaves me explaining to my co-workers that I'm not sick, it's just reflux. I know, I know … no one wants to hear about my reflux, but I bet the people sitting around me are glad to know I'm not spreading nasty cold germs.

Although it's painful, the hardest part of this reflux crap is giving up stuff I love. No coffee, red wine, grapefruits … even ice cream is a problem. It's a shame that coffee, liquor  and chocolate couldn't be acid minimizers.

As I said before, a large majority of the things that are bad for us taste and feel so damn good. And, since we're all idiots at some point, we give in … making giving up hard to do.

This is where I compare acid reflux to relationships. Certain things, or shall I say people, are just bad for you. You begin to see a pattern in your relationships. Some of them are toxic and leave you pissed off and unhappy. You start to realize that the men/women that leave you over-indulging on Ben & Jerry's have similar characteristics. Maybe you're attracted to men who never want to settle down, women who never want children when you do, or maybe it's as simple as men with long hair or natural blondes. Whatever it may be, once you realize it, you have to give it up. Find people who work with you and what you want. Heartache and heartburn both suck.

Excuse me while I take my Prilosec.

Is Love Like Budweiser and Champagne?

It's Tuesday night, and I'm grocery shopping after work. I do this every Tuesday. Tonight, while I was standing in line at the register, I looked up at the current issue of Vanity Fair. On the cover was Prince William and his new bride, Kate Middleton. Then, on the bottom right corner of her brown hair, I saw these small white letters. I looked closer, and the italicized words read, "Love is the greatest refreshment in life." The great genius, Pablo Picasso, came up with these words of wisdom.

I laughed after reading that quote, and almost asked the cashier for a plastic bag to barf in. If love is the greatest refreshment of all, then are half of the people in the world thirsty, dehydrated, in need of a new beverage? I just couldn't help but think about all the people who laughed at that quote just like I did. First of all, this is Vanity Fair … and I think placing that quote on the cover was quite cheesy (I can see why they made the font a size 8). Secondly, it can make people feel like losers if they aren't experiencing this so-called "greatest refreshment." Not everyone has found a prince/princess (pardon the pun).

On the other hand, some think they do … and maybe they have. They might even walk down the aisle and do the whole exchange of vows thing in front of their friends, family and God. And, after five years, they realize they've been drinking Miller Lite and it's just not refreshing to them anymore. Now, they could work it out and conclude that they truly love Miller Lite. Maybe it just affected them differently for a while … but it still refreshes them like none other. Or, maybe they go separate ways and the man finds Budweiser and knows that this is the refreshment he's been waiting for. Or the woman stumbles upon champagne and has never felt more satisfied.  Maybe, after you've been alone for a while, Milwaukee's Best even tastes good.

My point is that love -- in the moment, at certain times and with the right person -- is the best refreshment. But, at other times, it could be the new promotion, house or dog you just adopted. A great refreshment doesn't have to involve rings, titles and constant hand-holding. And sometimes, tastes can simply change.

We live in a world with a ridiculous variety of refreshments. Try a lot. The greatest will come. The key is to always having a thirst.





P.S. I am from Wisconsin. Of course I think beer is good. In no way is the above a slam on any brand of beer. I was just trying to make a point. I've learned that when you talk about beer, people (especially men) listen.

It's Been One Year ...

I remember when I first entered New York City. The plane landed, my ears still hurt and I saw a sign on the runway that read, Welcome to NY (complete with a big red apple in the sign). In my head I said, "Shit ... what have I done?" I had my computer, purse and two suitcases, and I got into a taxi for the second time in my life. This time it wasn't a Badger cab. I was excited, happy and scared beyond belief.

Then, I remember walking out of the subway station with one of my new roommates. "Here we are ... welcome to Bushwick," he said. In those next three seconds, I thought about grabbing my suitcases and fleeing back home at least 10 times. But I didn't.

Three-hundred and sixty-five days later, I am in love. No, not with a man, but with a city ... with my life.

You see, I don't stick with things very long. I'm still shocked I never changed my major in four years of college. Seriously, I've never had a relationship last longer than a year, and in five years I've lived in five different apartments. It's as if the concept of renewing a lease terrifies me. Well, I think it always did ... just like long-term relationships. It was all too much commitment for me. For some reason, I didn't want to become comfortable where I was. That reason is this city, and the people that fill it up.

In this year, I've had a horrible job, and now a great one. What I thought was a silly fantasy of go go dancing, turned into a pretty awesome reality. I went from walking the Brooklyn Bridge by myself on Friday nights, to finding a crowd I fit in perfectly with. And, even though I didn't move to the city for love, I at least met someone who reminded me that there are good men in this world ... good men that look great in a pair of faded, black Wranglers. Oh, and there's been some rock n' rollers along the way ... isn't that every little girl's dream?

To be honest, I've made it through this year with the help of some great advice given to me by great people. I believe in these words of wisdom, which is why I'm going to share them with you - right here, right now:

Day 2 in NYC, one of my roommates told me that you need an addiction to survive living here. She's right. It may be shoes, lipstick, broadway plays, or whiskey ... we all need something to turn to when this city overwhelms us.

Week 2 in NYC, the manager of the first NYC bar I went to, told me that the key to good hair is cheap shampoo and good conditioner. The man has good hair ... and he's right. My hair has it's own personality, so when the summer heat hits, I need all the help I can get. And this tip does seem to work.

Month 1 in NYC, an assistant at an interview I had told me the men in this city are jerks (actually, I think she said assholes first, then apologized, and changed it to jerks). She said I should meet a man in Wisconsin and bring him here. Trust me, at times I've thought she was right. But, like I said, there are good men out there, and her little spiel made me more determined to find one.

Month 2 in NYC: After meeting someone who told me they pissed their pants on the train, they also told me to always go to the bathroom before you leave. Even if you don't have to go, try to squeeze a little out. You never know when the train will be "held due to train traffic ahead."

Month 3 in NYC, one of my other roommates told me to give up on planning things in this city. He said, "Everything is spontaneous and people are always late. At least if they're late, that means they actually showed up." I'm a planner and time-obsessed person. This one is a challenge for me - still. I like to think I'm getting better.

Month 5 in NYC, my good friend, Gabe, taught me how to paint on an amazing cat eye. He helped me find my signature look, perfect it and own it. He also taught me to define my eyebrows, how to brand myself and the importance of always being brave.

Month 6 in NYC, a friend who loves handbags said that every woman needs a statement bag. You know, one that makes her feel like Superwoman. My statement bag involves leather and metal, because that makes me feel like Superwoman. This is necessary when your main form of transportation is the subway and the sidewalk. You don't have the front seat of your four-door sedan to throw your stuff during the morning commute.

Month 7 in NYC: The best songs in the world were recorded before this century ... I learned that from a number of amazing DJs. You should think about this, realize it's true and delete the Top 40 hits on your iPod (unless there's a few you just can't part with).

Month 8 in NYC, a rocker friend of mine said that you can always be yourself in New York City. Here you can shop at the Salvation Army store with the cool kids, fishnets can be considered pants and leather can always be studded. Find the people that believe money doesn't matter, creativity does ... and stick with them!

Month 11 in NYC, one of my best friends (who is three or four years older than me) told me to "Always do what's right for Amanda." Right there, that's what everyone should live by (of course, please insert your name in the sentence ... or else we'd all be a bunch of aspiring writers who dance on bars). It doesn't matter who thinks you're crazy or delusional. You know what's right, so do it. The moment you live your life for you, is when you actually start living your life.

Now, when I land in New York and see that welcome sign, I do a little kick line in my head while listening to Frank Sinatra's New York, New York. Tonight, at 7:18 p.m., I  walked out of the subway station and laughed. On a Monday night, one year ago, I was terrified. Now, I'm so happy to walk those same blocks every day. It's been one year … and I have no intention of leaving this time.

Wait, I Have To Get This On Facebook

It's like human beings can't do anything anymore without immediately (emphasis on immediately) putting it up on Facebook or Twitter. Look, my tube of toothpaste is deformed. Look at the empty jug of Sangria I just drank with my roommate. LOL, look at my cat after a bath.

The reason for this rant is, nonetheless, a post I recently saw on Facebook. One of my old college neighbors just had a baby (well, technically his girl did). Like we find out most of our information these days, I saw pictures on Facebook. The online baby album contained hospital pictures, and for a minute, I thought they were put up the day the child was born. I mean, you just had a kid, and I know you're proud, but should Facebook be one of the first things on your list? I'd be more concerned about having enough Pampers at home or if the bundle of joy has my eyes.

Private lives are a thing of the past. Even if you choose not to post embarrassing pictures of you falling asleep on the train at 4 a.m., your best friend will. When you bowl a pathetic game, someone will put your score up on Twitter ... most likely with a video link displaying your gutter ball. And when high school students get into the college of their choice, I bet they put it up on FB before sharing the news with their parents.

Don't get me wrong, online profiles can be great ... but I still think your parents should know your dream college accepted you before your 546 "Facebook friends." So, enjoy your wedding, a concert, your baby, or first house ... before snapping pictures and posting to Facebook. Enjoy the moment. Let your online peeps enjoy it later, if at all.

As for my neighbor, the new dad, the pictures were put up a few days after the birth. Probably after many diaper runs and making it through the first couple of sleepless nights.

P.S. Yes, I am putting this post on Facebook. It can also be used as a promotional tool, you know! I would prefer you read this than look at pictures of my cat ... even though she's pretty damn cute.

Laundromat Advice

I do my laundry every Sunday. Unless it's raining, or for some reason, I decided to do it on Saturday. I pack my white bag and walk to my favorite neighborhood laundromat.

This Sunday was no different. Well, it was different in one way. Usually I don't walk into the laundromat until after 1 p.m. Today I was there by 9:15 a.m. It's amazing what you can accomplish on Sunday when you stay in and get a good night's sleep.

After loading my clothes into the machines, I sat and thought. Usually I read or write, but today I thought. I realized that I had a wake-up call this weekend. We all have wake-up calls. Some are harsher than others, but when they happen, it forces you to think. A wake-up call could be a result of a night that got out of control, a bad experience with drugs, sleeping with someone you shouldn't have, or maybe just realizing that you aren't happy with your life (Just to be clear, my wake-up call didn't result from any of those examples ... I don't want my mom to worry).

No matter what it is, it happened. Now it's up to you to learn from it and become a stronger person. Maybe you have to change some things in your life, even if you're not ready to. If you don't, you'll probably have another wake-up call real soon ... and this one might be a bit harsher.

Thanks to my wake-up call, I realized that I need to spend more time with just myself ... and working on things that make me happy. So, Saturday is my new day. I used to devote it to other foolishness and that got me nowhere, except unhappy and unfulfilled.

Sometimes, especially in New York City, you get so wrapped up in making everyone else happy that you forget that no one is as important as you. It's ok to turn off your cell phone for a day or a night and focus on you! You don't have to be at every party or every event that you're invited to.

As I was thinking about all of this at the laundromat, an employee came up to me. I see her there all the time and she always starts a conversation with me. This morning she came up to me and started talking about how messy and rude people are at the laundromat (which is true ... people just throw their dryer sheets on the floor when there's a garbage two feet away). Usually I'm all bubbly and chat with her, but today I just nodded my head and smiled. She said, "Honey, are you alright? You look a little down." I assured her that I was fine and that I just had a lot on my mind.

She came closer to me and said, "All you can do is dance and be happy. That's the remedy." Without even knowing that I'm a dancer, she somehow gave me the best advice I've heard in a long time. As I folded my last sock, I thanked her for the words of wisdom.

It felt great to get my laundry done and receive a dose of advice all before 11 a.m. on a Sunday. I really liked it. Thanks wake-up call. I'm glad I listened this time.

First, Pull Up Your Pants ...

I still think New York City would be a nicer place if there were more people from the Midwest and the South. Those people are nice, not selfish and even smile at one another once in a while. After a year of living here, I'm still shocked when a guy takes a seat on the subway, leaving an elderly or pregnant woman standing.

It happened again this morning (just like I'm sure it happens every minute of every day). This teenager, who needed to pull up his damn pants, took a seat next to me. He sat down even though an elderly woman, with two bags, was moving towards it. At the next stop I asked her if she wanted to sit and I gave up my seat. I shook my head at the asshole kid sitting next to me. If I can stand for 12 stops in high heels, you can stand in your Nike shoes.

If I'm ever riding the subway with a dude who won't give up his seat for someone who could use it more than him, that'll be the last time he sees me. A man like that wouldn't impress me or my Midwestern family. He'd probably make my mom bring him beers from the fridge ... without even asking nicely. Asshole.

To recap: First, pull up your pants. Then, give up your seat for someone. You might even feel all warm and fuzzy inside.



*Yes, I know there are kind East Coasters around. I wish I ran into them more often.

Ponder This

Even though you may feel like you've been struck by lightning when "the one that got away" gets married, it's really not that bad. Trust me, they got away for a reason. Or maybe it was you that got away. Even though it still sucks to see the wedding pictures on Facebook, just remember that some day your dress will be way more unique than hers (I plan on wearing a leotard at my wedding).

Remember ... you are who you are today because of relationships that didn't work. There's a reason for everything, it'll all work out, yadda yadda yadda ... but that bullshit is actually quite true.

Because ... when you really start thinking about it, did you really want to end up with that person? Probably not. Start designing your remarkable wedding dress, shut up and be happy for the lovely couple.

A Whole New World ... Full of Sweat and Changes

It's here. The month of June. The sweltering New York City heat. People flooding to beaches with coolers full of juice boxes or beer, depending on your life stage. When June hits, things change. And they should. It's good ... like a whole new world.

Everyone starts wearing less clothing. Women make sure their toes are painted, men start wearing hideous plaid shorts and toddlers wobble around in their Huggies. When outside, you sweat enough bullets to take on a gang, but you enter a building and need your ankle-length winter jacket.

June is also a popular month to make a move, as in location, apartment, etc ... not making a move on the girl you've been too shy to talk to since January (you should have made that move months ago). Walking around in NYC, you'll find chairs, desks and mattresses ... half of which are probably infested with bed bugs. People need to make a change, and why shouldn't that change require you to memorize a new zip code. Even my favorite NYC girl decided to move on the eve of June. And not just from the Upper West Side to Midtown - all the way to Michigan (she's going for med school, so it's alright). I'm guilty of the June move too. Last year, I moved in the beginning of the month. Only I moved from the Midwest to this frying pan of a city (Don't get me wrong ... I love it here, even though the summers are disgusting). And I definitely didn't move for med school, my brain doesn't think that way. It likes to make impulse decisions, like the one that lead me to move to NYC "just because something told me I needed to be here."

Could the need for making changes occur because we are now approximately halfway through the year and the next thing you know we'll be humming the Little Drummer Boy as we walk down the sidewalk? It's as if we all stop and say to ourselves, "Oh shit, I have to make the rest of this year really amazing before I have to think about what I'm going to get my family for Christmas." We all of a sudden start living life to the fullest. We want to look our best. We want to be busy and learn how to waterski and attend outdoor concerts. Everyone is happy to turn the wall calendar to June, whether you have a Playboy calendar or one with fluffy kittens on it.

Make the best of the year. If you didn't start working on your New Year's resolutions in January, start now. And, if you gave up on them by February, give it another try ... or set some new goals. For instance, if you're one of those men who wears plaid shorts, your goal could be to NOT wear them. Women, start out by making your feet pretty and your toenails painted like colorful plastic Easter eggs.

Summer is a great time to feel good about yourself and make positive changes. The season doesn't really begin until the end of June, yet it's already 90 degrees outside. I don't care about the real Summer Solstice ... 90 degree, frizzy hair inducing weather means summer in my world. So enjoy the summer, and at the same time, accomplish something more than just getting a tan (the sun causes wrinkles people, oh and skin cancer - just saying). Make June your month. I did last year, and it's worked out pretty damn well for me!

You'll only have yourself to blame when you're Pa, rum, pa, pum, pumming down the street, wishing you would have done more with 2011 ... or at least with the second half of the year.

Badass Kitty

I'm always excited to dance on little black boxes and bar tops, but sometimes there's something about an up-coming gig that creates a happy and anxious feeling. When I get that feeling, I can't wait to put my shoes on.

This Saturday, I'll be putting on combat boots. I'll be wearing all black, with an accent of silver chains, studs and safety pins. My hair will have a messy, not washed in four days, look ... and I will wear deep purple lipstick, trace my eyes with thick black liner and paint my nails black. Lucky for me, my hair is already a soft-black shade.

See, I work for a woman who books gigs for me, and she always has a theme for the night. I take themes very seriously, which is probably why I love working for this lady. For a night, from 11 p.m. to 2 a.m., I'll be Lisbeth Salander. I'm going to go go-ize the character, but I'll be Lisbeth.

If you've been living under a rock and aren't familiar with Lisbeth Salander, let me fill you in. She's the main character in the phenomenal trilogy of Stieg Larsson. I don't think anyone's books have been more popular on the subway trains than Larsson's. You can't tell me you haven't spotted at least seven people on the same train reading "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo." I'm shocked people didn't start discussion groups during the morning commute. Anyways, after the first genius book came two more, all of which are equally amazing. And if you haven't picked up on it yet, this is my Saturday night theme.

Minus the dragon tattoo, I get to be a badass. A badass go go dancer, but still ... a badass. For a night I get to rebel against glittery and sequined bras and turn to leather and chains, with visions of motorcycles in my head.

Not only do I get to be Kitty Rae when I'm dancing on black boxes and bar tops ... this Saturday I get to be Kitty Rae - undercover hacker chick that you don't want to mess with. Totally stoked.

People sitting at the bar better watch out for my chains. And, if you're an asshole, watch out for my combat boots.

It's Not The 1950's ... But What's The Problem?

When did love become so difficult? When did men stop opening doors for women? When did good rock n' roll love songs turn into lyrics about forgetting your boyfriend and fucking in some hotel room?

It's as if people don't even know how to approach someone anymore. Our main form of communication involves our computers and cell phones, not face-to-face interaction. Even sex has gone to web cams and sexting. At least, for now, people are still having actual sex. And that's because it's easy. It's easy to sleep with someone and mumble, "I'll text you," as you leave the next morning ... but apparently it's hard to actually get to know someone and have a relationship.

The other weekend I was home in Wisconsin, sitting in a bar, surrounded by my favorite girls. We started talking about our dating lives, which lead to a discussion on online dating. A couple of the girls had tried it and were talking about their experiences.

While they talked about the online weirdos and hellish dates they had been on, I realized how much work and effort it all was. Why? Why are people trying so hard to find love? Back in the 1950's, computers and the internet did not exist, yet people went to sock hops and shared a milkshake at the local malt shop. Apparently milkshakes were better back then, because I'm sure a lot of those dates turned into marriages ... marriages that had more than a 50 percent chance of survival. So, what happened?

The traditional values that once stood 40 years ago have gone to the shitter, we're stressed about all the wrong things and we're too damn busy. That's what happened.

I get it ... we are never going to have 1950's values again. Women go to college and work overtime, just like men. They want to excel in their careers and become "independent." When you obtain that "independence," it becomes a lifestyle and is hard to give up. Trust me. And, I don't see that ending anytime soon for women. Things have changed and women have more choices and opportunities. I don't know any man who would say to a bunch of women, "You all belong in the kitchen," (unless he has a death wish).

Secondly, maybe we'd have more successful relationships if we took more time making someone else happy instead of stressing about money, your next game of golf or if you remembered to make your weekly manicure appointment. We stress so much because of selfishness. We all want what's best for ourselves, and ourselves only. The world is full of too many selfish douchebags and bitches who are unfamiliar with the word compromise. Get out your Merriam-Webster. Look it up. Learn it. Practice it.

Then there's that whole fear of rejection bullshit. Please stop fearing rejection. You want someone, go up to them. So many people are afraid of bruising their ego, so they don't go up to the pretty girl in amazing heels, or the good-looking guy in tight jeans. If nothing else, your ego should be enhanced by your ability to go up to a hot stranger. Noah never would have ended up with Allie if he feared rejection (yes, I'm talking about The Notebook). People today are too afraid to push the limits of risk. What you never do, you'll never know. 

Ahhh, rejection could be another reason online dating has become so popular. Many people feel more comfortable behind a computer screen than sitting across from a stranger. It's also less hurtful when someone stops messaging you after a week than when someone doesn't call after a first date.

Then there's the king of all exuses ... "I'm too busy." Get over it, we're all busy. We all work long hours, then come home and work some more. Make time. Try to see someone once a week. Who knows, maybe you'll enjoy it and want to see them on a Wednesday too. Now, if you're a woman in New York City, you know this all too well. Every third guy you pass is in a band and "has no time." If you find one that will make the time and not sleep with girls in bar bathrooms ... keep him. Inspire him, he'll probably even write a song about you.

After writing all these insightful words, I've realized I was wrong. It's not love. Love is not difficult. In fact, it's quite easy. Loving someone is like breathing ... easy and essential. Relationships are difficult - like most things in life that really matter. Relationships can be tricky and messy, but at the same time, all kinds of wonderful.

Here's a a re-cap, since I know we're so busy and all:

• The 1950's are gone. 
• We stress about all the wrong things.
• We're too busy.
• We're too selfish.

Don't be afraid to share a milkshake with someone. Get to know them. The sex will be even better.

The Notebook Clip - Noah asks Allie Out

Cure the Blah

I still believe that when you're having a 'blah, everything is going wrong' day, the best thing you can do is put on some lipstick.

Due to this blah day I'm having, I caved and had some coffee. My over-assumption of coffee led me to the bathroom at least four times this morning. Every time I'd look in the mirror and feel even more blah. Finally I realized I needed some lipstick. I have 27 different colors in my leopard-print make up bag, so I knew I'd find something to perk me up. And, it worked. One of my favorite MAC shades, Loyal, made me instantly feel better. It's as if my internet rock n' roll radio station even started to sound better. And, the best part is, I'm working from home today, so I'm sitting in my room with my lipstick on ... for no one but my cat to see.

You can either sit around, complain and do nothing about your 'blah' day, or you can go for a walk, listen to that "happy song" (mine is Daybreak by Barry Manilow - the first song I ever tap danced to) or walk around your apartment in high heels. Yes, the lipstick made me feel better, but I wanted something more, so I also walked around my apartment in my favorite pair of high heels ... which I still haven't taken off.

Whatever that little thing is for you, do it. If you don't have a cure, I recommend you start at the MAC store. It works wonders for me.

The one and only Barry Manilow - Daybreak

Why Run?

"They (whoever 'they' are) say we only run from the things that really scare us." I get it, I'm guilty. So are you. We all are.

Whether it's love, success, money, etc. What it is isn't important. But, one day you are going to get tired.

I don't care if you run marathons ... if you can run one everyday ... three times. One day you will get tired. And when your knee is messed up beyond repair, you'll wonder why you kept running. Then you'll realize you kept running because it was comfortable.  You may not have been happy or satisfied, but the alternative was scary as hell, so you kept running away.

Stop running. If you're scared, good ... that means you're doing something right. Keep doing it.

Anyone can keep running, but in the end, they'll just be left with a busted knee.

A Gossip Girl Gone Ginger

We all know Blake Lively is a fan of the red-bottomed Christian Louboutins, but was she taking it too far when she recently became a red-head. Check out her new hairdo here.

Our sun-kissed, Gossip Girl, blonde bombshell has gone ginger. When the public has only known someone with a consistent hair color over the years, it's a shock when it changes overnight. It's as if we have a serious problem with celebrity change. Our society hates when celeb couples split, when they wear an ugly dress to the Oscars, and apparently, when they color their hair.

This is because we are comfortable with people in the public eye the way they are. It disrupts our world when Perez Hilton tells us that Eva Longoria is getting a divorce or that Lauren Conrad chopped her beach-waved hair (which happened a while ago people, she wore extensions). And the funny thing is, we normal folks embrace change in our own lives ... but the truth is a marriage only has a 50 percent chance of making it whether your Joe Schmo or Brad Pitt (see the dude's already been divorced once).

Could our frame of mind be because so-called "stars" are supposed to be better than us. As if they are already so perfect, why change anything? Well, they aren't. Their bank accounts may be higher and they may have five houses, but sometimes they want to change the color of their hair too. So give Blake a break. Even though she probably went to a fancy salon for her dye job instead of picking up Loreal Preference 8C at the local pharmacy.

As for Miss Lively, I'm not a fan of the ginger look on her. But, who am I to say. I wonder how long she'll have it if Karl Lagerfeld wants her blonde in the next Chanel handbag advertisement. And, I wonder what Penn Badgley thinks? I hear they are getting cozy again. If so, I hope they don't break up ... society will blame the fiery red-head.

The point is that 'famous' people are just like us. They sleep and have smelly shit. So, when they want to change their hair or wear something crazy ... it's ok. The whole world may not love it, but I'm pretty sure the entire human species isn't all about your hair, but you can still rock it.

Goodbye Car ... Hello Computer

Ever since I was 16 years old, I've had a car. My mom and dad taught me how to drive in a 1983 Chevy Celebrity. I passed my driver's test with that car, but every time you shut the the door, you'd lose a few more pieces. And the winters are cold in Wisconsin.

Within a year, the Celebrity had fallen apart, and I bought my first car with the money I saved from my retail job. It was a baby-blue Plymouth Colt. I called it my baby. I gave it a little tap on the dash every time I made it through the intersection on a yellow light. Unfortunately, the baby's mileage grew too high, and it was time to say goodbye.

Before I went off to college, my mom helped me find a new car. Well, it was a new, used car, but it was her "you're finally getting out of my house" gift to me, and I was extremely grateful (seriously, not everyone has a mom that cool). So, I drove off to college in my little dark purple Saturn. It had a CD player, and I remember the first CD I jammed to was Jennifer Lopez ... The Remix. I thought I was cool.

That eggplant-colored (if you want to get specific) Saturn got me through college, picking up drunk friends from the bars, taking road trips with my high school girls, running around on reporting assignments, and moving to and from five apartments. I was so proud of Ms. Eggplant.

Then I decided to move to New York City. With a great public transportation system, insane traffic and high insurance rates, I decided to leave my car behind. My mom kept it around for a while ... thinking I'd hate it out here and come back home. After six months, and me constantly telling her I'm never leaving NYC, she got the hint and told me she was going to sell the car for me. And, because she's so cool, she told me whatever she got for the car would be mine.

Finally, after a few months, my mom's neighbor must have gotten sick of seeing the car in the driveway, so he bought it for his 16-year-old daughter. A recently-turned 16-year-old got a car, and a recently-turned New Yorker finally got a new computer. It's been an hour and I'm already a Mac person. I think I'm going to have a lot of fun with this thing. Probably as much fun as that teenager is going to have in her new car.

And now that I can do so much more, be prepared for this blog to change ... and take off! There's more to Kitty Rae than dancing on black boxes. Get ready.

Are Thigh High Socks Sexy or Skanky?

There really isn't anything that you can't apply the 'sexy vs. skanky' question to:

- Peanut Butter ... sexy or skanky?
- A visible thong ... sexy or skanky?
- A tight top paired with tight pants ... sexy or skanky?
- Being a fast typer ... sexy or skanky?
- And now, thigh high socks ... sexy or skanky?

I began considering this debate one night after I got dressed for a gig. I went out to my living room and one of my male roommates told me he loved the outfit, especially the socks. Then my female roommate asked me if I was "trying to look like a cheap prostitute." Of course, I huffed and puffed and told her no as I went back to my room to work on some routines for the evening.

Now, after dancing to a few songs, my socks started to fall down. I realized it would annoy me too much to tug them up every 30 seconds, so I decided not to wear them. That left one roommate thinking I was crazy not to wear them, while the other one thought I was more classy than I appeared 20 minutes ago. Same socks, same legs ... and two completely different views. One view was sexy, one was skanky.

My point is every person in the world will never agree that something is 100 percent either sexy or skanky. There are men out there that want to see a g-string on the woman walking in front of them. My advice is do and wear what makes you feel sexy and good about yourself. If you feel good in a tight top and tight pants (even though I consider it a fashion no-no), then wear it. But be prepared when someone says it's sexy, and also be prepared when someone says it's skanky.

Remember what's skanky to someone is sexy to another. It's kind of like "one person's trash is another's treasure."

P.S. I did wear those thigh high socks a different night!

When You Assume ...

Assumptions aren't fair. We all make them, and we've all been victims of them. Nobody is ever right every time, so why can't people come out and ask for the information they want ... instead of assuming, and then assuming they're right.

The other weekend a guy said to me, "I'm not the type of man you take home to meet your mom." Really, do not just assume that's what I want. And why would someone think that ... because I'm from Wisconsin, so I automatically want to take you there and look at houses with fenced in backyards. No. Or maybe it's because I don't leave the bar with a different man every night, so I must want to get married right away. Again, not true. Maybe if he would have gotten to know me instead of assuming what I wanted, we actually could have had something. I'm not sure exactly what, but something.

If you're taking up time assuming things about someone, it means something's peaked your interested. If not, it wouldn't be taking up space in your head. Instead of wondering, open up your mouth and ask. It's a lot better to make an ass out of yourself by asking for information than assuming and probably being wrong ... and making a bigger ass out of yourself later.

Maybe the concept of assuming bothers me so much because of the journalist in me. As a reporter you can't just 'assume' the quotes and statistics in your article are true. You have to be sure they are. You have to research and interview people ... you have to do your homework.

All you assumers out there need to buck up and do your homework. Men, stop assuming that the woman standing next to you is already thinking about what your future children will look like. And women, stop thinking that the guy only asked for your number so he can sleep with you. That may be, but it may not be. And once you start getting to know him, the answer will become evident. So, don't assume, give someone a chance. But, if he says, "Well of course I just want to sleep with you ... I assumed that's what you wanted" ... slap him. Not to promote violence, but he shouldn't have assumed that in the first place. And please ladies, don't assume that he really is a good guy and he'll come around in a few days with an apology and a dozen roses. Once again, it may happen ... or it may not. But, I do know that a series of assumptions always leads to disappointment and 'what the hell just happened' moments.

Be Thankful for Stuff

Everyone has those days where they're all of a sudden in a really good mood ... for no reason ... at all. I'm having one of those days, and it's made me think of all the little things I'm thankful for. So, here we go:

I'm thankful for the people that know how to move into the middle of the subway car. You have to, because it's funny to see all the Williamsburg kids get their backpacks stuck in the sliding doors.

I'm thankful that I take a downtown train to work. I like going downtown, kind of like Petula Clark.

I'm thankful for the Keurig machine at my office. And all the flavors of coffee they provide for us ... and the cream ... and the milk. Even the Diet Coke is free.

I'm thankful for a spring day, allowing me to run outside in shorts and without a hat. And, I'm thankful for my good shoes, rock music and the invention of the air drums to get me through that run. I'm even a little thankful for the dog shit on the ground ... it gave me something to dodge (but in all seriousness, people need to start carrying those little blue poop bags with them).

I'm thankful that I live in the best neighborhood in Brooklyn (in my opinion). People talk to other people here, even people they don't know. You don't see that on the Upper East Side.

I'm thankful for Elvis ... and how he made hips very important ... even for men.

I'm thankful for Budweiser and Jack Daniels ... and my favorite little dive that never leaves me disappointed.

And, of course I'm thankful for family and friends, my health and my cat ... you know, all the important stuff. But, little things in life are just as important. And when you realize how much you have to be thankful for, you realize that all you really need is yourself. So, pick a day and notice all the little things that make you happy and thankful that you are you. Be thankful for yourself, and remember that you're on the "thankful lists" of others. When you don't feel like you are, you can always count on your mother's list.

FYI -- I really do enjoy Williamsburg. And I'm pretty sure that no Williamsburgers are really hurt by the sliding doors of the subway.

Go On ... It's OK ... Move On

I'm just going to dive right in. There is a big difference between giving up because you are lazy, and letting go and moving on. If you failed your college calculus class because you were "too tired" to attend Monday night tutoring sessions, then you gave up on that class. Now, if you prepared for a job interview and had a rocking resume and the manager decided you weren't right for the job, you move on and let it go. You find other interviews, and the perfect job will come your way. And, who knows, maybe that company you really had your mind set on will have an opening in the future that will be right for you. ... But maybe that won't happen, and guess what, that job you do find will be meant for you.

When the decisions and feelings of another person (or persons) are involved, some things are out of your control. You can't force someone to hire you. All you can do is show them how amazing you are and how much you want the job. Then, it's up to them.

Obviously you can apply this wise information to relationships. Even when you feel the world for someone, they may just want to be friends. It doesn't mean they don't think you're fabulous and that they don't care ... maybe it's just not right.

Think of it this way. Everyday, on my way to work, I try to get a seat on the L train. I always go way to the left of the platform, and 95 percent of the time, I end up standing. One day I realized this approach just wasn't working. Yes, maybe I got what I wanted 5 percent of the time, but there had to be a better way. So, one day I went to the right end of the platform, and as the train approached I realized I was going to get a seat. And guess what, it made me smile.

See, sometimes letting go of old ways leads to trying something new. And that something new just might work. Moving on is never negative. It can be hard and frustrating, but when you're ready to try something new, it can be exhilarating and can actually make you smile again ... and not just 5 percent of the time.

You're Talking on the Phone ... Here ... About That?

This afternoon I was in the bathroom at work, and I heard a cell phone ring. At first I thought, 'OK, it's in her purse and the ringer is on ... no biggie.' Then, the woman answered the phone. And, if that's not bad enough, the conversation consisted of girl talk ... nothing urgent enough to talk about while peeing.

Before I go on, let me say that I love my phone. That little Blackberry can do amazing things. But, I'm not going to chat about boys and make up while I'm in the office bathroom. Nobody wants to hear about your new lipstick or the woman who's trying to sleep with your boyfriend.

In this "cell phone is my pacemaker" world, private conversations are on the way to becoming extinct. For those people who do have everyday cell convos constantly in front of others, I'm glad you don't care what people think ... but you should understand that those around you aren't interested in your every word. People may even roll their eyes at you ... take the hint. If you don't respect your private conversation, at least respect that other people are in the world too. And maybe they like to pee, wait for the bus and shop for underwear in peace.

It's alright to turn off your phone every now and then and wait until your home to make calls. And, if your best friend needs to know that color of your lipstick, text her. Why do you think texting was invented? It's not only there for you to send drunken messages at 2 a.m.

Here's a helpful list of acceptable reasons to have, and use, your cell phone in the bathroom, at the bus stop or in the underwear section:


- To call for help if you fall when getting up from the toilet.
- To check the weather to see if you should run home and get your umbrella after all.
- To send a picture message to your guy of the sexy lingerie you just bought.
- To answer the phone when you friend, who you're meeting for drinks, calls because your late. Tell him/her your bus is late and to order a drink and relax.
- To text your best friend when the sales associate at Victoria's Secret tells you you're actually an A cup, and you thought you were a B.
- To update your Facebook status when you're stuck in a long line for the bathroom. It happens a lot, right ladies and people who go to dive bars with one working bathroom.
- To write yourself a memo with some of the lyrics to a song played in the store. You must find it on iTunes.

... Remember ... no amount of girl talk is worth the risk of dropping your phone in your own pee. Then again, maybe sticking your hand in there to retrieve it might make you think twice about your bathroom phone chats.

Take A Chance ... No Regrets

I like to think that the New York Times knows what they're talking about. As one of the most respected newspapers in the nation, when they report on something, you can trust that the journalists have done their homework. So, when my sister sent me the link to a recent study published in the NY Times about regret, I believe that they are right on.

Last week, NY Times reporter Tara Parker-Pope reported that "the most common regret among American adults involves a lost romantic opportunity." When the adults in the study were asked to describe a memorable regret, the most common answer involved that person who got away .. the one they didn't give a chance. And now, years later, they regret it.

I find this really sad. I'm happy this is not a regret of mine ... not at all, actually. Maybe because I've been blessed (or cursed) with an extreme outgoing personality that allows me to express everything I'm feeling. Or maybe it's the fact that I know all to well how life can end at any time. Whatever the reason, I'm glad I always tell someone how I feel. There is absolutely nothing wrong with taking chances. Yeah, you could get hurt, but it's better to be hurt, get over it and know that you took a risk, then to still be thinking about "what ifs" ten years down the road. And who knows, maybe it'll work out and you'll be happy ... what a concept.

There are very few people in your lifetime that are going to get under your skin, challenge and inspire you ... and make you truly happy. When you care, let it be known. Don't walk away from someone who makes you smile for no reason. If you care enough to grin like a fool in public, then you shouldn't have any problem saying, "Hey, I want you."

So, women ... don't grow old with your three cats because you never took a chance on someone (one cat is alright though, as long as that animal knows he/she has to share you). And men, don't be that guy in his 50's who no one wants to sit next to at the bar because all you talk about is the woman who got away.

Y'all got it? Good.

The Beginning of "Real" Make Up Ads?

Yesterday afternoon I was sitting up on my rooftop, catching up on some magazine reading, when an ad caught my eye.

I noticed this ad because it was for the foundation I use ... Make Up For Ever. Then I read that it's the first make up ad with no retouching. Of course I did the "ha" laugh until I read the fine print on the right stating, "certified by a notary public." Once I realized it was actually legit, I couldn't get over how much the girl looks like Blake Lively ... oh the genetically blessed.

Anyways, I have to say, I like this marketing idea. Us women want to look beautiful, yet natural. Blue eyeshadow up to our eyebrows was cute when we were six years old and experiencing with mom's make up ... not so cute in adulthood. Not only does the girl in the ad not have caked-on make up, the make up she is wearing is subtle, yet gorgeous. And, her eyebrows aren't perfect, she has slight dark circles under her eyes and you can tell that she does have a pore or two. These imperfections, even though they are small, make this ad! It's because this girl still looks great without Photoshop.  Smart move Make Up For Ever marketers.

That marketing team knows we all want to look great and the real world doesn't allow us to walk around with a computer, constantly snap photos of ourselves, fix them up, and have people look at the screen instead of us. Neither are we going to tie a Photoshopped picture around our head. So, a make up ad that looks good without being touched up might just increase the number of ladies holding a Make Up For Ever foundation while standing in line at Sephora.

It's about time we see a "real" make up ad ... even if the girl looks like she belongs on Gossip Girl. The women in the other 57 ads in that magazine don't really look that way on a day-to-day basis. Who do they think they are fooling? They have pores, a stray eyebrow hair or two and maybe they even have split ends. So, I'll put my thumbs up for Make Up For Ever and their non retouched ad. Maybe they're onto something.

There is one thing about this ad that drives me crazy. She's acting like a sorority girl taking a picture of herself ... just herself ... and in public. I know we all take solo pics, but do it at home ladies.