Tag Archives: drinking

#Goals, Accountability, and Shirley Temples

I’m back in San Francisco, and, after actually cleaning my apartment for the first time since I broke my foot two months ago, I am embarking on a personal spring cleaning exercise – TO CLEAN MY SOUL. Okay, so not my soul, per se, because I think that requires you to pay an indulgence to the Catholic Church. Or can you no longer do that because of the Reformation? What about Buddhism, can I pay money to cleanse my soul in Buddhism? Any other religions I should offend in this intro? No, all religions hate me already? Okay, cool, moving on.

In all seriousness, aside from the A-Z challenge, I got behind on some of my personal goals while I was laid up, so I’m putting them down here to keep me accountable. Congratulations, you are all now my life coaches. The position is unpaid and provides no benefits, but you do get my undying gratitude and occasional pictures of my manicures on Instagram:

Goal #1: Writing 

I’ve been working on a YA project for a while, but keep getting distracted. My goal is to now write minimum 2000 words a day on that project through the month of May. I’ll maybe get a word count widget going on this blog to keep myself ULTRA accountable. Yay!

Goal #2: Fitness

Before I hurt myself, I wanted to run a 5K this year. This is still my goal. I can’t officially start trying to run until this weekend, but I am going to walk minimum 10,000 steps per day until then and then start “training” (also known as jogging for a couple minutes each day until I can then jog for, like, 5 minutes without dying, and going from there). I CAN DO THIS! (Right? Can I?)

Goal #3: Career

June 1st is the anniversary of my leaving the Goog, and by this Fall I’m probably going to look into getting a full-time gig again as I continue to work on writing, because I like money 🙂 Seriously, though, I want to take one action a week to investigate what job(s) I might like to do full time come Fall. This week, I’m talking to a recruiter at a cool company on Thursday, so we’ll see how it goes!

Goal #4: Mental Health

I didn’t feel my best mentally this past week, partially because I got REALLY drunk on Saturday and it’s affected me for the past two days because clinical depression + wine = depressive episode. I’m in my thirties now, damn it, and I need to take better care of my brain. I talked to my therapist, and I’m going to engage of minimum 5 minutes of mindfulness meditation per day and also watch my social drinking. The drinking thing is especially annoying, because I really only drink socially once or twice a week, but when I do go out with friends I lose track of what I’m drinking quickly and then I’m screwed (this, to be clear, is my own fault, not my friends’!). Also, our overall culture has a super sick relationship with alcohol, THANKS SOCIETY. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ So I’m only going to have 2 drinks max when I go out, and if that means I have to drink a shit ton of shirley temples at the fancy restaurant then THAT’S WHAT I’M GONNA DO!

Okay, I have SHARED MY GOALS AND NOW YOU BETTER MAKE ME MEET THEM, INTERNET OR I WILL SEND THE BEYHIVE AFTER YOU AND YOUR GOOD HAIR!

If anyone has any personal goals to share in the comments, please do! I would love to return the favor with some encouragement and accountability 🙂

X-treme Walking & Drinking

Soooo…remember how I was only going to have two drinks per day in New Orleans!? LOLOLOLOL OK, YEAH.

Technically, I only had three drinks yesterday, but the third was this Hurricane from Pat O’Briens (thanks to the commenter who suggested it!) which had, like, several shots of rum in it. So who knows what my count was yesterday lol.

hurricane

I was preeeety tipsy. However, that didn’t prevent me from walking nearly 10,000 steps yesterday! Before my injury, I was walking minimum 10-12,000 steps a day, but over the past two weeks I’d probably been averaging 2,000 per day, so I am VERY proud of my X-TREEEEEEEEME (yeah, I’m really reaching for the letter X here, but the only other topics I could think of were Xerox machines and Xenophobia, which are both boring and/or enraging subjects. And I am proud of my walking, god damn it! And even proud of my drinking, because I knew my body and only had water at dinner last night and had a veggie pasta dish (which was delicious). Basically, I am a FUCKING PARAGON OF VIRTUE.

But, yeah. New Orleans is pretty great, though the heat and humidity are INSANE. You know it’s hot when you drink three big cocktails and countless glasses of water and barely need to pee because you are sweating it ALL out. So in terms of my NOLA goals, I’m at least meeting the sweating one.

Today is day one of JazzFest, and we’re hoping that Lauryn Hill shows up for her set, because you never know with that girl. Happy Friday!

 

If y’all have any more NOLA suggestions, please do leave them in the comments, they are GREAT.

Jackie’s Foolproof Process for Furniture Assembly and Losing Your Soul

Occasionally, despite my college education and now 31+ years of experience living as a Human on the Planet Earth, I make a Life Errorso gargantuan that it shakes the very fiber of my being and makes me doubt whether I am worthy of success, happiness, or love.

I order self-assembly furniture online.

I know, I know, but it wasn’t my fault! I am A WRITER, DAMN IT, and writers need desks. I could write while sitting at my kitchen table, but it’s cold in the kitchen. I can also go to a coffee shop, but a coffee is two bucks MINIMUM and it’s much cheaper to just make coffee at home. The obvious solution was a small-ish desk that fits into the bay window nook in my warm-ish bedroom with the cheap homemade coffee only feet away!

So I went on Wayfair and ordered a desk. Five days later, the desk arrived. And thus began my descent to the ninth level of hell, where I joined Brutus, Judas, and…Cassius (is he the third guy? too lazy to google) in being chewed in the giant maw of Satan.

The process began auspiciously when the FedEx guy cheerfully offered to haul the giant desk-containing box up three floors to my apartment. I immediately set out to assemble the desk, whereby I rediscovered Jackie’s Foolproof Process for Furniture Assembly and Losing Your Soul:

  1. Using a knife, cut through the tape along the edges of the box.
  2. Attempt to open box, and discover that there are apparently three more layers of taped-up cardboard between you and the desk.
  3. Hack through these layers while dripping sweat everywhere. Finally remove all the cardboard to discover the furniture is encased in a sarcophagus of styrofoam, which is all stuck together with a kind of tape that is probably used to seal airlocks on the International Space Station.
  4. Hack at the styrofoam, getting bits of it all over your apartment and inhaling a good 20% of it into your lungs.
  5. After 30 minutes of chopping at styrofoam, reveal the desk. Take a water and stretch break and realize that if you can’t open a box without getting breathless that you might want to sign up for the gym.
  6. Using the included mini toolkit, attach the four legs to the desk. Easy peasy! You’re 90% done- the last step is attach the knobs to the two little drawers that are built into the desk.
  7. You go to pull out the drawer. The drawer falls apart in your hand:wp-1452825930873.jpg 
  8. Ok, you can fix it! Get out your hammer and nails to see if you can cobble the drawer back together.
  9. OH MY FUCKING GOD HOW DID I HAMMER THREE FINGERS ON MY RIGHT HAND ALL AT ONCE OH GOD OH GOD IT HURTS AGHHHHH!!
  10. Breathe through the pain, breathe through it. Ok. You’ve got this.
  11. Go down the block to the local hardware store and buy superglue. Return home, glue the drawer back together, let it set for 20 minutes per instructions. Huzzah! It looks great! YOU ARE A GODDESS!
  12. Lightly touch the drawer with one finger to test the strength of the superglue. The drawer explodes.
  13. A single tear escapes your right eye. You remove the drawer and put the desk right-side up. The desk leg lands awkwardly and stubs your right toe.
  14. You burst into tears because ARE YOU KIDDING ME I WENT TO YALE I SHOULD BE ABLE TO PUT TOGETHER A FUCKING BUCK FIFTY DESK AND MY HAND HURTS AND MY FOOT HURTS AND I’M SWEATY AND IT’S RAINING AND THERE’S STYROFOAM ALL OVER MY APARTMENT AND I’VE BREATHED FIVE POUNDS OF IT IN AND NOW I’M GOING TO DIE OF STYROFOAM LUNG CANCER WHY AM I EVEN TRYING TO BE ALIVE IF I’M TOO STUPID TO SCREW TOGETHER A FUCKING WAYFAIR DESK sob sob sob.
  15. Call your mom, who is bewildered but manages to calm you down.
  16. Ashamed at your outburst, you try to go online to request replacement drawers for your desk, only to discover that the new Comcast set-top box that Infinity made you install earlier that day has DESTROYED THE INTERNET and the only network in range is called “We Can Hear You Have Sex” but it’s fucking PASSWORD PROTECTED.
  17. Cry.
  18. Remember that your phone has internet, and use that to request the parts. Ok, they’ll be here in a few days. It’s all good.
  19. Go out to a friend’s open bar birthday party to destress and consume three of these:
    wp-1453430097079.jpg
    Yeah, that’s a shot that gets poured into it in addition to the rum.

     

  20. Go home and vomit up everything you ever ate or drank, but because you’re an IDIOT you throw up in the shower and not the toilet, and so when you wake up at 3 am and go in the bathroom you discover that you have to clean up a hell of a mess. You go back to bed and at 6 am you clean up and hydrate and go to the laundromat when it opens to wash your vomity clothes. Call Comcast, fix the internet, and wait for your replacement drawers as you recover your dignity.
  21. A few days later, the drawers arrive, in perfect condition! You replace them and the desk looks GREAT! HUZZAH! WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS OF THE WOOOOOORRRLD! wp-1453430169027.jpg
  22. Decide to take a walk to celebrate. Pull out your headphones so you can listen to some TUNEZ while you traipse through the park.
  23. FUCK
wp-1453430176319.jpg
Ain’t it always the way?

 

 

Last. Self-assembly. Desk. Ever.

The Single Millennial’s 15-Step Guide to Surviving the Holidays

THAT’S RIGHT, KIDDOS! It’s the most wonderful time of the year – if you’re rich, have excellent will power when it comes to eating and drinking, and are happily coupled.  Otherwise, as I well know, it can be a tough time, so to help you deal I present to you the Single Millennial’s 15-Step Guide to Surviving the Holidays! READ WITH CARE.

Step 1: Put up all your holiday decorations, including your organically farmed hypoallergenic spruce fir, energy efficient LED lights, and flameless menorah, all while enjoying the holiday stylings of Michael Bublé on Google Play! Check your calendar for the month to make sure you have all of your holiday parties and events scheduled. Make a detailed diet plan for those days when you’re not attending a holiday event to make sure you stay healthy and energized – and avoid putting on those extra holiday pounds! Pledge only to have 1-2 drinks per holiday event so as to remain hangover-free throughout the season!

Step 2: Mug of soy cocoa in hand, sit down to make your holiday gift list, including all your dear friends, coworkers, and family members. Smile as you plan fun surprises for the people you love the most in your life and imagine their faces lighting up with joy when they open your beautifully wrapped, thoughtful presents! And wow, that Michael Bublé can SING, am I right?!

Step 3: Though you have already planned out all your holiday events and shopping, you receive a last-minute invite to drinks with some friends the night before the company Christmas party. You decide to go, but you’ll just have one glass of wine – that won’t mess up your schedule!

Step 4: Wake up the next morning with a massive hangover. You’re unsure how happy hour at the wine bar turned into karaoke at 3 am, but you know you have to rally for the company party that evening so you try to hold back the vomit. You promise yourself that you will not drink at the company party – last night was a fluke, and it won’t happen again.

Step 5: Ok, so you got completely wasted at the company holiday party and dirty danced with your boss while your coworkers took videos and posted them to Instagram – so what? Everyone else was smashed, to0! Besides, the rest of your holiday events this season are with family and close friends, so you won’t be drinking a lot. What’s one night of letting loose? Also, thank the lord that they didn’t play any Michael Bublé.

Step 6: Still hungover from the company party the night before and in your pajamas, you go on Facebook at 2 pm and see a twelve-paragraph rant from your Great Uncle Ronnie about how Fox News says there’s a war on Christmas going on, led by Muslim-In-Chief NOBAMA, Planned Parenthood, and Feminazis.  Feel your stomach heave with too many mocha martinis as you thank your lucky stars you haven’t seen Great Uncle Ronnie in seven years and will likely never have to talk to him in person again.

Step 7: Around 4 pm, you receive a call from your mother informing you that Great Uncle Ronnie will be attending Christmas dinner this year and you will need to purchase a present for him. Take a long shower and cry from the DTs and then go to the bodega. Buy and immediately consume a Family Size bag of Ruffles Cheddar and Sour Cream chips. Go to bed at 7 pm full of self-loathing.

Step 8: You wake up early feeling much better the next day, so you decide to go online to attack your Christmas shopping. Let’s see…maybe a sweater for Lucy, and Eric might like that new book by Ta-Nehisi Coates…

Step 9: …Jesus Christ, when did sweaters and books get so damned expensive? You haven’t seen Eric since Halloween, so he probably won’t get you anything, either, and he can just buy that book on Kindle Unlimited if he wants it, anyways. And Lucy, well, that girl comes from money and her boyfriend’s always buying her expensive shit, so there’s nothing you could get her that she doesn’t already have. You’ll just get cards for everyone at Walgreens, that will be fine, right? You don’t need to spend money to show your love for your friends!

Step 10: Oh, shit, you have to buy something for Uncle Ronnie. According to his Facebook page, all he really wants for Christmas is an AR-15. You briefly consider buying him a copy of Bad Feminist by Roxane Gay but decide you do, in fact, want to survive until 2016. You order him the latest Michael Bublé Christmas CD instead. Take that, asshole.

Step 11: Attend your annual friend group holiday gathering. Every other fucking person there has brought gifts for you, and all you have for them are these damned Walgreens cards. Also ERIC GOT YOU A SEVENTY-FIVE DOLLAR GIFT CERTIFICATE TO TARGET ARE YOU KIDDING ME? You slink to the corner, ashamed, and drink the equivalent of two bottles of wine by yourself as you realize that not only is everyone else more generous than you are, they are all also in long term relationships and you are the only single person at the party. Are you the only single person BECAUSE you’re not generous? Is that why? Also, why is the host playing Michael Bublé music? Why are you alone? WHYYYYY AM I-

Step 12: Wake up feeling awful. Realize that after you blacked out the night before, Eric and Lucy had to pour you into an Uber during surge pricing and drag you up three flights of stairs to your apartment to put you to bed. Oops. If nothing else, you now owe them each a major apology gift. Get on the scale and decide that since you’re already fucked, weight-wise, you might as well go all-in. You order an entire large pizza and eat it alone while watching While You Were Sleeping on TV with commercials, even though you have the DVD on your shelf (you’re just too lazy get it and put it in). Fall asleep at 2 am with your head on the pizza box after watching your thirtieth commercial for the upcoming Michael Bublé Christmas special.

Step 13: Travel home for the holidays. Somehow, end up in the middle seat  on your six hour flight. Because of “high winds” your plane needs to land in Vegas for 30 minutes to refuel. Thirty minutes becomes ninety and you order three of those little bottles of wine to keep yourself sane as the two giant men on either side of you jab their elbows into your ribs and fart copiously.

Step 14: Arrive home and watch your parents bite their tongues to avoid commenting on your disheveled and bloated appearance. Go to your childhood bedroom and pass out for ten hours because, damn it, you’ve earned it, and you need to steel yourself for Christmas dinner with Uncle Ronnie, who’s told your mother via text several times that he’s really concerned that you haven’t found a man to take care of you yet and that it’s all Feminism’s fault.

Step 15: On Christmas morning, your mother lets you know that Uncle Ronnie is at home with gout and will not be attending Christmas dinner after all! Beam as you sit down with your family for the meal, and tear up as you realize that, hey, maybe there is a God, after all! Huzzah! Joy to the World, bitches!

Finally, after dinner, your mom tells you she’d like the whole family to join her in the family room to watch the Michael Bublé special, which she recorded on DVR.

WHHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYASYD;LAJS;GAKS?

In the name of Bublé, I wish you a happy holiday season.

 

 

Announcement: I Am Now a Ghost

Prior to this past weekend I was a thirty-year-old Human Woman.  Over the weekend I died and became a ghost.  Behold a picture of me as I appear today:

BOO
BOO

Basically what happened is I went to a birthday party Saturday night and had many, many drinks.  I also danced for more than three consecutive minutes (I “Got Low” and “Jumped Around,” among other life errors), and topped it all off by going to sleep after 2 a.m.

This behavior, while apparently not a problem in my twenties, was sufficient, at age thirty, to kill me and transform me into a ghost.  A ghost with an aching right foot, perpetual exhaustion, a scratchy throat, and a neck with a severely reduced turning radius that is somehow exacerbated by sleep.  My new identity as a ghost was confirmed earlier today when a man almost walked into me on the sidewalk even though he clearly should have been able to see me coming.  Also, a few minutes afterwards a small child looked RIGHT AT ME with frightened eyes and gave me a wide berth.  Everyone knows that children are the only ones who can see ghosts, so I took this as final confirmation of my new plasma-tastic state.  I tried to reassure the child that I was a friendly ghost, like Casper, by giving her a huge grin, but this only seemed to frighten her more as she wailed and ran to catch up with her mother.  So I guess this means I’m not a friendly ghost and should start haunting the crap out of everyone who ever pissed me off before this weekend.  I’m compiling a list and am open to suggestions on this now (haunted) blog.  The first person on the list is currently Donald Trump.  TRY KEEPING THAT COMBOVER STRAIGHT WHILE YOU’RE SCREAMING IN TERROR AT MY GHOSTLY VISAGE, JACKASS!

Soooo…I guess my main message here is to avoid ghost-hood by just staying in and never drinking alcohol once you hit thirty, and also that if people could just all agree to haunt horrible politicians once they become ghosts our country would be a lot better off, policy-wise.

Boo, mofos.

The Ten Worst Things about Europe: Eurotrip 2015, Part Deux/Due

As promised earlier this week, I’m back with my list of the Ten Worst Things about Europe.  BE WARNED: THIS LIST CONTAINS PICTURES OF MY LEG AND ANKLE!  (This warning is mostly relevant to any of my readers who have traveled in time from the nineteenth century.  If you are reading this, sorry for lewd images, and also can I borrow your Tardis?).

10. Getting this bruise:

It has been nine days
It has been nine days

So I guess it’s kind of hard to see in that picture, but my first afternoon in Paris I was walking along the Rue Montorgueil (or as my non-French-speaking friends called it, the “Rue Mononmont…ugh, whatever”) and it was raining, like, SUPER hard, and I slipped in front of a bunch of skinny, smoking French people, and fell on my knee hard and it hurt like a motha, and the bruise is still there and going strong.  MERDE!

9.  Rain: This is a continuation of number 10, I guess, but it rained hard three days when I was in Europe and THIS WAS BULLSHIT.  Didn’t Europe know that it was me, Jackie, who was coming to visit it?  It couldn’t have held off on the rain for, like, one more week out of courtesy?  THANKS A LOT, EUROPE.  This would never have happened in California.* (On the plus side, I guess Europe does look pretty cool in the rain, see below).

Siena in the rain.  Pretty awesome, actually.
Siena in the rain. Pretty awesome, actually.

8. Air France:  Ok, this one isn’t funny and I don’t have a pic, but basically those assholes stole 216 bucks from me and I hate them and am never flying them again.  It’s a long story but if you really care you can check out my Twitter from this morning lol.

7.  Hangovers: When I was last in Europe, I was twenty years old and could literally club all night and drink endless wine without any repercussions.  Now that I am thirty this is most definitely not the case.  I paid dearly for this concoction, for instance (but, my God, was it delicious):

omg omg
omg omg

6. These shoes: 

So...chic?  Ugh.
They speak for themselves

So this is also a result of #9 – the evil RAIN.  My friend T and I were walking in the rain in Toms shoes to the Louvre, which was ill-advised on many levels, and we had no choice but to stop at a random shoe store and try to find waterproof shoes in our size.  Sadly, the only shoes available in my size were these (though T picked up a decent blue/black glittery pair which she threw out – bad decision, T!).  Apparently, the French have tiny feet.  The worst part was that I had to wear the above shoes with these pants:

The patterns really mesh well, don't you think?
The patterns really mesh well, don’t you think?

Not chic, guys.

5.  The number on this scale: 

LOLOLOLOLOLOLOL
LOLOLOLOLOLOLOL

Who am I kidding?  I’ve been too afraid to get back on this old horse.  No matter how much walking I did, no way it made up for this:

TIRAMISU
TIRAMISU – I know I put this in the last post but it was SO GOOD.

4.  Bugs: The bugs in Europe are surprising vicious.  I was attacked by one especially horrid one in the courtyard of the Florence Basilica, leaving me with these scars two whole weeks later:

They still kind of itch, too.
They still kind of itch, too.

What I’m really saying is, the bugs in Europe hate Jesus.  Yeah, that’s it.

3. Smoking: Look, we Americans may be fat with big feet and cover all of our meals with melted cheese, but at least we’re not constantly inhaling poisonous fumes and blowing them all over other people.  I swear, no one in Europe can go twenty seconds without lighting up.  I’m kind of allergic, so this is genuinely awful for me.

2. Hot guys: Too many of them.  There’s such a thing as an embarrassment of riches, Europe.  Though they’re all skinnier than I am, so that helped matters.

1.  Paper and Candle Stores: Ok, Europe, what the hell – do you want me to be INCREDIBLY BROKE?  YOU HAVE STORES THAT SELL JUST PAPER AND JUST CANDLES EVERYWHERE.  Just LOOK at this beautiful effing fan I bought:

It's not ok that it is this beautiful
It’s not ok that it is this beautiful

I spent, like, twenty euros on this fan.  When, you may ask, am I ever going to use this fan?  NEVER, THAT’S WHEN.  But it is so pretty and made of hand-painted paper!

Also, LOOK AT THIS CANDLE:

Welp, there's another 20 Euro down the drain
Welp, there’s another 20 Euro down the drain

It looks like it’s made of glass, AND IT’S A WAX CANDLE.  COME ON, ITALY.  IS THIS A JOKE?  I’M GOING TO LIVE IN A VAN DOWN BY THE RIVER AFTER THIS TRIP.

Don’t get me started on the soap stores.  I just didn’t go into them.  I would have had to declare bankruptcy if I had.

So, yeah, these are my top ten complaints about Europe.  As you might imagine, this was my face when I had to leave:

BUT I DIDN'T BUY ALL THE CANDLES IN EXISTENCE I CAN'T LEAVE YET!
BUT I DIDN’T BUY ALL THE CANDLES IN EXISTENCE I CAN’T LEAVE YET!

Love ya, Europe.  Never change! xoxo Jackie

*I am aware that it is actually a bad thing that it never rains in California.  I am not making light of the drought, which hopefully will be alleviated by El Niño.  Chill out, guys.  I care about the environment, GOD. 

So I drank all the wine…

And ate all the food and walked to all the piazzas and saw all the things.

Advice for going to Florence:

Eat everything
Drink everything
Wear a scarf for churches #sexism
Love life
When they only offer wine by the bottle buy it and drink it and be drunk and post on WordPress.

Ciao!!!

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