Thursday, July 25, 2013

Why staying in hotels is the WORST (but not really)

I was clicking through Yahoo the other day (because that is where I keep my junk mail account, which seems appropriate), and they always have those awful, sensationalist headlines, designed to make you click on them. Which I always do. Without fail, these headlines always disappoint. See What Article of Clothing This Celebrity Forgot to Put on Today! (His socks!) Is This Celebrity Couple Getting a Divorce? (Nope!) Yesterday I came across a headline so ridiculous that I am not even going to link to the article, but it was called, What We Hate About Staying in Hotels. Really? Oh god, staying in hotels, amiright? So awful! The worst! I was just talking about this with the girls at the country club the other day, and etc. Instead of clicking through to the article*, I started my own list. Feel free to add to it in the comments.    

               What We Hate About Staying in Hotels
  1. I don't have all my stuff around me like I do at home, help!
  2. This looks nothing like my house. What if I get lost?
  3. Tiny shampoo bottles--what is up with those? 
  4. They don't even let you make your own bed!  
Am I missing anything? 

*If you do click through to the article, it turns out, people are actually pretty happy about staying in hotels. You got me again, Yahoo!

Thursday, July 18, 2013

Why I'm beachy keen, how are you?

A weekend in pictures (aka, my mug more times in one post than in the past six years of blogging combined)...

 

Thank you soooo much, Erin and Bill!

Wednesday, July 10, 2013

Why living in DC gives me an inferiority complex

If you are a person who leads a relatively mediocre life, or who is prone to bouts of envy, might I suggest that attending a happy hour meetup of French speakers in the Washington, DC metro region may not be the best thing for you? Because everyone there is someone, and they are all doing cooler things than you. Case in point: the first conversation I had was with a twenty-something young woman who does international something and is traveling to Mali for work next week. Ok, not the best example; I missed a lot of details there.

But let's move on to conversation #2, which I had with a bubbly young industrial engineer with beginner French skills whose job sends her to France for 2-3 weeks out of every month. So, effectively, she splits her time between Paris, Nancy, and DC. Logistics aside, because I realize there are some serious downsides to that situation, which she was happy to enumerate for me, it still sounds like a pretty darn awesome opportunity for someone young enough to probably never have seen an episode of Seinfeld. "But oh, you can only work 35 hours a week there, at most, and how are you supposed to get any work done in only 35 hours? And oh, dating is so hard with this career; well, I do have a French boyfriend there, but he only speaks English to me," she lamented. I did my best to act sympathetic. I asked her if she had always wanted to do this, if foreign travel had always been part of her career plan. "Oh, no!" she enthused. "My boss just asked me if I wanted to, and...now I get paid to learn French and to travel!" Moving on.

Conversation #3 was with a leggy Rihanna lookalike who recently graduated from college, where she had played on the women's basketball team. Since graduating two months ago, she has been in DC working at the State Department. At the end of the summer she will move to Boston to attend a graduate program at Harvard. Her fellowship at Harvard will be entirely paid for by the Foreign Service, and at the end of the program, she will have a job with the Foreign Service. The very same Foreign Service, I should mention, whose entrance exam I recently failed. Yeah. That. Although, for all her apparent merits, this young prodigy did insist on informing me, multiple times, that Colgate University is located in Ithaca, New York, when in fact, I lived there, and it is not. I tried to gently correct her as to her error, telling her that actually, I lived there, and-- "No, Ithaca, New York," she interjected. "Er, yes, but," I said, "as I mentioned, I lived in Ithaca, and there are actually two colleges there: Ithaca College, and--" "Colgate," she interrupted again. "Cornell," I said, flatly. "Well," she said, waving her hand in the air, "somewhere around there." It was time for a new topic of conversation. 

"Are you married?" she asked. "Oh, no, I'm not," I said. "Oh. All my friends are getting married," she offered. "All your friends who just graduated from college?" I asked. "Yeah," she said. It was time to move on.

Conversation #4: You know things are bad when talking to a judge fails to impress you. Oh, you're a judge? Cool. What else you got?

Then I went home and thought about where exactly my life went wrong. The end.