10.08.2014

The Great Chocolate Chip Cookie Meltdown of 2013

I like to think I've earned my place at Ackerman McQueen as a capable, intelligent member of the team. But for a time there, I was definitely known by 95 percent of the people I worked with as "the girl who lost it over cookies."

I've been known to lash out irrationally where baked goods are involved. Not just once, but multiple times. Some of my girlfriends still talk about one incident when I lost it while trying to dye icing orange. Then there was that time my best friend and I got into an argument over whether we should use a wooden or rubber spoon to mix a batch of brownies. We chased each other through the house wielding kitchen utensils.

Happier baking times.
What can I say? I have a flair for the dramatic. But nothing will ever compare to The Great Chocolate Chip Cookie Meltdown of 2013.

The root of this meltdown isn't actually the cookies in question. It's really about a boy, of course. I don't recall exactly what leads to our argumentative state that night. I'm on the defensive because he seems to be critiquing everything I do, and he probably thinks I'm doing the same. The result: we're both in moods. You know, those moods where it doesn't take much to set you off. My tipping point? He says the batch of cookies I spent five hours baking the night before are mediocre at best. Aaaaaaand I'm crying.

I storm off to take a shower and cool off. When I surface, I hope to extend an olive branch and watch some House of Cards. Instead he informs me that he's typed out a note on his iPhone detailing everything I've been doing wrong during our 11-month relationship. Well that sounds FUN. I guess Frank and Clare Underwood will have to wait.

Sorry guys, BRB. Gonna cry it out.
He reads the painfully long tirade without even pausing to look up, and I fall apart. The only positive words I remember are "I love you." However, those words are immediately followed by the word "but," which pretty much eclipses that ounce of silver I-Love-You lining.

Full-on ugly girl cry status has been reached. Once he finally wraps it up, I mutter something like, "Ok...I'll try to stop doing those million things that I'm apparently doing wrong." I don't know what else to say, so I roll over and cry myself to sleep. Clearly our communication skills are top notch and we handle conflict really well.

The next morning, I show up late to work with four dozen cookies that are now 48 hours old, partially burned and symbolic of a still unresolved argument and my crumbling (pun intended) relationship. My puffy, crying eyes are hidden behind my glasses. My hair is lazily pulled into an I-don't-care-bun. I'm wearing a thin layer of waterproof mascara. Basically, I'm giving off that "don't screw with me" vibe. Unfortunately, Darren isn't catching on to said vibe.

Darren is the local forever bachelor in the office. He's hilarious, charming and an excellent story-teller. However, you would not pin him for a fantastic baker. If, for example, he challenged you to a bake-off, you would gladly accept and laugh him off as zero competition. You'd spend an entire month trash-talking and sending office-wide emails touting your impending victory. You wouldn't be even slightly concerned that your latest batch of cookies wasn't your best, because there's no way this guy can bake half as well as you -- even when you're at your worst. No way.

Except he can. He can bake better than you. Better than me. Better than all of us. By a lot. I walk into the conference room that morning and see Darren's perfect cookies, which were apparently just removed from the oven mere hours before. My cookies look wimpy. They have half the amount of chocolate. They're losing their fluff. They are, as I had already been told, mediocre at best. Help.

6.24.2014

Pick-up Lines That Never Work: Part 2

Re-entering the singles world after you had pretty much planned your entire life with someone is a jarring experience. On the upside, my newly single status has presented a plethora of opportunities for me to ridicule other people whose problems and dating prospects are clearly much bleaker than mine. While I am seriously concerned about the crop of men that lies before me, I am at least entertained by the words they allow to escape their mouths. I am even more entertained by the fact that they think these words will make me, or any female for that matter, go weak in the knees.

Allow me to provide some real life examples of why things are going awry as I force myself back into the dating pool. Apparently things haven't changed much since I wrote this two years ago. This is just one week in the life of a Dallas 20-something single lady. It's a scary place out there.



5.04.2014

Tinder Tutorial

Sigh. The Singles Train. We meet again.

Yes, I was completely blindsided. Yes, my heart shattered into a billion pieces. No, I don't want to talk about it. 

So anyway. I've now cycled through breakup phases one through four: 1) The-world-is-ending hysteria 2) Absolute misery and despair 3) Severe confusion 4) Rampant anger. I think I'm kind of sort of maybe almost ready for phase five: Looking at a male without wanting to gouge his eyes out. Which brings us to last week. Slightly out of boredom and slightly because I needed an ego boost, I installed Tinder on my phone. Apparently that's what the kids are doing these days.


In case you aren't familiar, Tinder is the the latest superficial and lazy way to meet someone via technological advancements. It links to your Facebook page to pull your friend list, interests and photos. You can select six photos and write a short biography that explains your entire life story. For example, my life summary reads: "All I need in life to be happy is Chipotle." Not much else you need to know about me. When you look at someone's Tinder profile you can see their photos, their bio and any friends/interests you have in common. Point being: this is all about judging a book by its cover.

I'm not expecting (nor do I want) a deep connection to come of my Tinder usage, but I figure what the heck? I'm in Dallas! There are single men galore! They're educated! They have jobs! And houses! And manners! And nice hair! They can buy me wine! Except no.

Y'all. Have you looked at the male Tinder profiles in the Dallas area? Is this how it is everywhere or has Dallas just somehow attracted every sleaze in America?! I'd like to think that all these men are much more charming and intelligent than they appear, but the way they're presenting themselves is just mind-blowing. Men of Tinder: YOU'RE DOING IT WRONG.

So gentlemen, as a favor to you and to me, I'm providing a tutorial on the Dos and Don'ts of your Tinder profile. (PS These are actual profiles that I found in my Tinder research. Some of them are probably fake robots, but SOME OF THESE PEOPLE ARE REAL. Also, you'll note I have way more pictures of Don'ts than of Dos. That's because for every 150 crazies there is one normal person on Tinder.)

2.13.2014

Valentines Schmalentines

Well. It's here. Again.

Valentine's Day.

Like many people, I've had a love/hate relationship with this holiday. The "love" phase came in elementary school when I got to decorate a shoe box and all my classmates gave me candy. Plus my mom threw me a Valentine bunko party one year that RULED.


The "hate" phase came soon after. My dating career began at age 15 with a month-long "relationship" that missed V-Day by a few weeks. This "relationship" held the record for my longest official dating situation until I was 24. During the intervening years, I pretty much dated boys for a week then was over it. People who follow a similar dating patern must come to terms with these three truths: 1) You're dating the wrong people. 2) You have commitment issues. 3) You don't have Valentines. Ever.

So went my life.

In middle school and high school I coveted the ugly, cheap teddy bears my friends received from their boyfriends and wrote angst-ridden posts on my Xanga.

In college, there was wine.