WELCOME BACK! Did everyone have a lovely week?! As your top awards season fashion commentator, I spent the week popping off color coordinated lewks that belong in a museum but were only viewed by my dog and perhaps a few Ring cams that captured me dropping fast food on their stoop whilst Door Dashing. Since I stunted my Barbie track suit on y’all last week, it only makes sense to continue to show you what makes me qualified to barf all over A-list celebrity red carpetwear.
I mean come ONNN, the alternating fur and maroon?! Chef’s Kiss MWAH. My dog truly doesn’t understand what a top fashion runway model her mom is.
WORST
Ok that is ENOUGH. We are two for two with a well endowed woman wearing a strapless gown during awards season and I am NOT HERE FOR IT. Strap those yabbos in tighter or I’m gonna start handing out citations from the Titty Police.
I’ve never seen a more boring look ever. Middle part, pin straight hair, high neck sleeveless black dress. YAWN. You couldn’t do ONE thing to jazz this up?! Earrings? A purse? I honestly would’ve welcomed a set of XL cans struggling to stay in a strapless top *just this once.* ANYTHING!
And the pendulum swings back in the other direction because Christina was like I’ll give you some razzle dazzle and I hate this. I hate the deep V but even more so, I hate the tacky green bedazzled chonky necklace.ย
I understand he was trying to be trendy but what fresh hell is this?! Plopping a button under your shoulder just makes it look like your jacket is putting a CLINIC on trying to stay closed over your WIDE midsection. No sudden movements, my dude, or that thing’ll go soaring!ย
Too much mixed media here for me to get on board. Florals, bright colors, sparkles, AND black mesh? Gotta pick a lane.
Get this out of my face immeds. It’s giving needle pinning a post-it note over her hooters. I couldn’t scroll Twitter last night without seeing this image from multiple sources:
To the point where I had to fact check if she was indeed wearing Berger’s break-up post-it on her dress. She was not, folks, but if you have to seriously wonder that, I think we can all agree this dress is trash, much like Jack Berger was. (The real SATC fans know.)
Imagine wearing a dress that makes everyone immediately think “does she not own a steamer?” Honestly even hanging it near the shower would’ve helped. Why is wrinkled a fashion choice. It’s bottom of the laundry basket, I think I can get one more wear out of this…not awards show formalwear.
Sometimes the champ one week becomes bottom of the barrel the next and that my friends is the CIIIIIIIIRCLE of LIFE! Hate this corset clasp-heavy top and feel like she’s about to board a pirate ship in this getup.ย
I would be down with this angelic lady tux if it had ANY OTHER bottom other than the stuuuuuuupid mermaid monstrosity.
Guy who played Nate can pander all he wants with a football jersey, but I’m still never going to forgive him for shitting all over that sweet, sweet Ted Lasso. (Spoiler alert: he came back around and apologized but I don’t accept.)
He looks so uncomfortable and it’s making me uncomfortable. Imagine the SOUNDS this outfit makes every time he moves a limb. Fart city, population: this leather suit.
WowWOWwowWow. It’s still too soon for me to see her and not become untethered with rage. Kewl woven basket chairs over your nips, NAHT.
The top of this dress is giving birth to the bottom of this dress. I can’t unsee it and now you must all suffer with me.
Blow it out your peplum blowhole.
It shouldn’t come as a shock because Alex treats awards shows like her own personal zany dress-up sesh but barf all over me with this sexy lil tamale of a circus ringleader lookin bullshit.
Oh HELLOOOOOOOOOO.
MOOve over, this jacket is udderly repulsive.
Oh we just going shirts off now? Shirts optional at a formal awards ceremony! Pop them TOPs!
Cool cool cool cool.ย
Bleh. A matron of honor dress.ย
I was immediately irked by this look and I couldn’t put my finger on why until it hit me. It’s loud. It’s shiny and tacky and just too loud. Katherine is trying to show everyone this year that she’s not the difficult bitch she was painted to be after she left Grey’s and this look…isn’t convincing me.
OoOoh pregnancy is beautiful and women are amazing and the way our bodies change and our skin glow and BLAH BLAH BLAH save it, sister. I DO NOT NEED TO SEE YOUR ENTIRE BABY UNLESS I AM YOUR GYNECOLOGIST. Sukz is doing ENTIRELY too much with this look and I’m NOT A FAN. The cooch bow, REALLY?! On top it’s like she put an apron on during some frisky role playing and then attached a table skirt to it via vadge bow. Congrats on the sex and everything but keep the full belly and birth canal side peeps for your baby daddy.
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BEST
The forehead curls. SWOON. What a goshdarn whole snack.ย
I waffled back and forth on this one and eventually was won over probably because I have a soft spot for Free Willy. For reals though, the optical illusion of the circle skirt is pretty eye catching.
Mmmk Tony with the oat milk blazer!!!
Kaitlin’s dress is a stunner. She’s clearly SAP (skinny as possible) but the lined corset accentuates it even more in a classy hawt way. Rob’s whatever. It’s all about his lady.
#GenderEquality, now I’m going to say Emily’s whatever, LOOK AT KUMAIL in that steel grey suit!
Cute lil bob on Amy and an if it ain’t broke don’t fix it glitzy Miss America number.
I LOVE that an old guy like Brian is rolling through with something fresh like this. Could’ve gone classic black tux but he was like OH FUCK OFF I’M GOING DUSTY GREY WITH A POCKET SQUARE AND A BROOCH.
Trent Krimm, Independent lookin snatched as hell in a rainbow tweed-ish looking suit. The untied bow tie is a cherry on top. Total cool guy move.
I support anyone looking to have their Carrie Bradshaw tutu moment.ย
I did a literal double take to make sure we weren’t looking at the goodies on full-frontal display and because of this neckline literally tricking my eyes, I’m tipping my cap to it.
LOVE this silhouette for her bod, could probably take or leave the retro ice pack material. No seriously, did your mom ever fill up one of these bad boys with some cubes from the freezer? It had a certain smell to it and looking at this dress, I feel like I can smell it. But even thought I definitely ruined that for you…still supes cute!ย
A moment of silence for girlies who start dating a guy and then completely change their entire sense of style to match his. There has never been a more drastic example of this than when Kourtney and Travis started dating and she went full punk rocker chic. Taking it to an extreme here by just full-on having a twinsie moment. Can’t wait til she shaves her head and covers it in tatters.ย
I saw lots of reds and maroons and blacks, but not a lot of jewel tones and I’m loving this shade on her.
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A fuzzy duckling that stands out among the rest. I wanna see this frock in action. Take it for a spin on the dance floor, let those feathers fly!ย
A stunning rose. No notes.ย
I appreciate the remaining Presley’s showing out as a unified front even if they are dressed as cryptkeepers. Digging the funky pattern and gauzey look of Riley’s skirt.
What a fun sparkle-tini! One of my fave looks of the night and perfectly coordinated with the silver carpet and as you can see from my maroon ‘fit…I get a real boner for color coordz.
Again, just me getting excited for someone switching things up! A neon splash looks great with her complexion and another dress that I want to see on the move. Wish we got twirl gifs in addition to still shots.
Jennifer’s pretty top-heavy and look how nicely she styled these bazookas! There’s a way to not dump your knockers right on the red carpet and I applaud that. She also may be the only one to pull off the pieces of hair in the front that I normally hate so much. She can pretty much do no wrong.
Dapper looking host in a floral suit.ย
This dress is huuuugggin her curves, yo.ย
Another top look, Selena’s been bringing it this awards season so far. I’m mostly just a sucker for the dark lip, a trend that I wholeheartedly embraced back in 2016 when reputation-era Taylor Swift made baddies with a deep plum pout on trend. I tried to revive it in 2019 and my niece who was 2 at the time immediately put me in my place and pointed at my face asking what was wrong. SOME PEOPLE JUST DON’T GET FASHION. Might go for round 3 now that Selena’s rockin it so hard. I’ll report back on if my dog approves.
A seafoam feather train as I LIVE AND BREATHE!ย
A classic siren ball gown.ย
A close second for best look of the night, head to toe perfection. This dress is cool AF and adds an air of whimsy to her Wednesday Addams mean muggin face.
BEST LOOK OF THE NIGHT:
Ellen Pompeo’s been out of the game for a minute. She basically bought out Grey’s Anatomy and moonwalked out of Hollywood, so this is the first time I’ve seen her on a red carpet for a bit and I’m very into this little ascot party that’s happening. I’d be down to try the sparkle sheer top with a high-waisted skirt to cover up my belly full of Christmas cookies. Maybe when my self-imposed shopping ban is lifted, I’ll dabble with this AND the dark lip TOGETHA. You know, for all the high profile events I get invited to. On second thought, I’ll probably keep kickin it in matching sweatsuits sans makeup.
As luck would have it, exactly two weeks before I moved to a more expensive apartment, I got shitcanned by my freelance social media job that I had for 3 years, a supplemental income that I very much needed. But bad things don’t happen in isolated incidents, they happen in three’s, everyone knows that! At the same time I got swindled out of that, I was also told by my therapist of 6 years that my insurance dropped her and I owed her $700 for appointments that they didn’t cover and we’d have to break up. And THEN I made a compelling stats-heavy presentation at my full-time job asking for a raise and was given a pat on the head and told keep up the good work. YAY! Suffice to say, fulfilling my goal of moving to the beach came with an inner voice in my head that sounded a LOT like that little shit Stilwell sneering “you’re gonna lose” and “you stink” over and over again. And since I’m doing life by myself, it’s up to me to pull a Jimmy Dugan and whip a glove at that voice.
The cool thing about my generation is that when we’re forced to work a minimum of two jobs to survive because inflation and the housing market/rent prices have soared to astronomical levels and an average salary for a job requiring a college degree (that most people are still paying off) is $40,000, is that there’s a plethora of apps capitalizing on the need for fast cash. And instead of calling it like it is, pure desperation to pay our bills on time and not go into further debt, we call it a side hustle to sound sexy and mysterious. And some of these apps ARE sexy and mysterious! OnlyFans and Feetfinder just to name a couple…but the rest: Rover, GrubHub, Uber, DoorDash, Lyft, Care, Wag, Instacart, Shipt…not so much. After serious consideration of the aforementioned apps (cause nudes and toes are where the money’s at) I realized that I’ve seen far too many true crime docs to trust that one of these pervs wouldn’t somehow track me down and wear me as a skin suit. And so I opted for the safer route of snuggling pups via the Rover app.
I paid the overpriced $30 for a background check, uploaded a bunch of delfies, and tried not to sound like the kind of gal that used to sneak-pet dogs in Italy when their owners weren’t looking. I succeeded because suddenly I had a hot weekend with 5 drop-in visits booked. It was during this weekend that I had to take a hard look at myself in the mirror as I was yelling at my own dog to HURRY UP AND GO POTTY so I could walk other people’s dogs. Only to come home cloaked in the scent of a cheater. The air was thick with betrayal as Charlee came to the realization that not only was she forced to squeak out a dump under extreme duress but I was rushing her so I could step out with not one but two strange dogs in the same day. Chuck, if you’re reading this, please forgive me, Mommy’s sorry! You’ll always be my favorite dog to smother.
Not worth the wasted travel time or neglecting my own pooch, I dropped my Rover distance down to less than 5 miles continuing to hope that someone down the street with a full-time job that pays them enough to live off of would scoop me up as their regular lunchtime dog walker. I had already collected three 5-star reviews from my knack for writing a super cheesy report card and snapping an array of portrait-mode doggie pics that belong in an art gallery. Eat your heart out, Annie Leibovitz.
Unfortunately, I wasn’t getting any hits so it was time to move onto a new venture. After a very nerve-wracking night where my mom convinced me a dog owner I was doing a meet and greet with was going to be an axe murderer rapist, I was extra vigilant about doing apps where my probability of getting snatched was on the lower end. After sharing my concern with a friend of the program, he quickly pointed out that anyone who snatches me would give me right back after 10 mins of me yappin. So I’ve got that goin for me, which is nice. I decided on DoorDash. I figured I could bring people their food and drop it on their doorstep (minimal human contact=slight chance of being adult-napped) Easy, peasy, lemon squeezy. DD hazed me by giving me a half hour shift 8 towns over to kick things off, which I took like a frat bro champ, desperate to pledge Delta Delta. In a half hour I delivered two Wendy’s orders to people who lived next door to each other and made $15. Needless to say, after this short stint, I had a real false sense of confidence that I could crush it as a dasher and make millions.
Which brings me to the real reason for this blog: my terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day of panhandling on the apps. Still active on Rover, I happened to get pinged for a drop-in visit with 3 dogs, all above 80 lbs. I certainly don’t think I’m Cesar Milan but I figured it wouldn’t be difficult to let these dogs out into their own backyard. The night before my scheduled meet and greet, the dog owner reached out to me and asked if instead of dropping in at their house, I could actually just take their 2 year old husky to my house for the day. Exsqueeze me? I’m not on the app to bring strange dogs into my home, I’m on the app to see how the top 1% (homeowners and people who can afford a dog walker) live. AND obviously to overwhelm their dog with affection for a nominal fee. After a phone conversation where she explained this dog was fresh from the shelter and still “in a destructive phase,” I told her that I also have a dog and happen to like the things in my home, including my overpriced Christmas tree that I (my mom) had just worked really hard to put up. Charlee was destructive for one month when I rescued her and after she ruined this piece of rare art curated by Christmas Tree Shop before I even had the chance to hang it up, I nearly sent her packing right back to Mississippi. So no, I’m not willing to bring another chomper riddled with separation anxiety into my new apartment.
We agreed that I would bring my dog to her house to meet the others and we’d go from there AKA I’d tell her I would be more comfortable watching her dog in its own home where it belongs. So I brought Chuckles to meet some new pup pals knowing that she’d never see them again but just trying to repent for the weekend I cheated on her so hard. This did not put me back in her good graces, in fact, I think at one point she gave me a look that very clearly read, “what the fuck, mom?!” It looked kinda like this:
As it turned out, these dogs were A LOT. They were big and loud and immediately ganged up on my little Chooch. She hated every second of this playdate and snapped her teeth like a croc to get them to back off, to which they said NOPE! In this high-stress and very barky few minutes, I learned that the husky has escaped their backyard several times now by attempting an Olympic trial-level high jump over the fence and also tunneling under the fence. This dog was giving Andy Dufresne a run for his money. Legend says that before she dove below sea level to resurface on the other side of the picket fence she turned to her doggie sibs and said, “Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies.“
As I was processing these deets amidst the chaos of howling, snarling, and my dog trying to crawl up inside my womb, I was simultaneously being asked to commit my whole Sunday to watching these giant furry a*holes rather than the previously requested hour, for a paltry sum of money. As many loyal readers of The Salty Ju know, I hate confrontation and awkward stranger interactions. I’d rather deteriorate into a skeleton than politely remove myself from an uncomfy sitch and saying no has never been an option for me. So when faced with this ultimately terrible dog watching set-up, I was ready to be like, “sure, babes, whatever you need!” instead of, “I’d rather die.”
So I nodded along like an idiot and when my dog was literally about to be eaten alive, I suggested putting her in the car before it got ugly. I went to bring her to safety and who trotted right out behind me but the escape artist herself in her easiest disappearing act to date. I was in shock. I hadn’t even been responsible for this dog yet and I already set her free into the wild. Knowing she had about 10 seconds before her mom realized what happened, she said SAYONARA, SUCKERS and took off down the road. What ensued next was straight out of a movie. The dog owner and her toddler son were not yelling the dogs name but speaking it at a normal volume and walking toward it at a casual ‘I just recently learned how to use my feet’ pace. There was no air of panic coming from them, meanwhile I was THE MOST frantic. I hysterically asked the owner if the dog would chase me if I ran in the opposite direction, seeking any sort of resolution, even one that might show what an uncoordinated blob of mashed potatoes I am. It was so far away at this point it wouldn’t have even seen my chicken legs take off to chase.
Not knowing what else to do to be helpful in this scenario and also riddled with guilt from being the gate-opening monster, I joined the search and rescue team that had more of a ‘hopefully this dog just runs back toward us’ energy about it. Several friendly neighbors stopped as they drove by and made things even more awks as they asked me about tendencies of a dog I’d met 5 minutes ago and told me to hop in with them to get it. Uh no sir, I was taught to never get in vans with strangers. Feeling rather useless, I took over toddler duty as I realized losing a dog and also having your 2 year old clipped by a car as he weaved all over the road shouting, “DOGGIE FREE!” might actually ruin this woman’s life. I held his little hand and vowed to not also set him free into traffic. After what felt like hours but was probably 10 mins, one of the neighbors got the dog into her car and happened to have a leash in there as well to prevent ole Seabiscuit from gunning for the Triple Crown again. As we walked back to the house the owner asked me if I babysit as well since I was so good with her son (read: I didn’t lose him) and I had to break it to her that I only babysit for families who I’ve vetted bring their A-game with a fully-loaded snack pantry. I’m kidding, I told her I actually hate kids. No but seriously, there’s a reason I didn’t join the Care app and it’s exclusively because it would be inapprops to say in my profile that I would only be willing to watch sleeping children so I can get paid to binge Netflix and my non-negotiable rate is $35/hr.
After that whirlwind, I thought FOR SURE she was going to state the obvious: that I was not cut out for this dog-sitting gig. But unfortunately for us all, she was ready to give me a tour of the house when we got back and I had to put my big girl panties on and do a lil practicing of the word no. I shared that I did not have the experience required for a 90 lb dog who would rather roam free like a Quileute shapeshifter than be constricted to a home. And then I beat it out of there as fast as I possibly could but not before I could think to myself, why would anyone with two kids under two add a third large breed dog to their wolfpack, a SIBERIAN HUSKY nonetheless, which was literally BRED to run?! This MF’er is pulling jailbreaks just so she can stretch her damn legs and stay in shape should she ever be called upon to sub in for the Iditarod.
Anywho, although it may be easy to dwell on the fact that I went along with this FAR longer than I should have, it’s important to celebrate my ginormous win here. Sure, I traumatized my dog with a 3 on 1 gang bang and showed that I’m inept at latching a gate BUT rather than saying sounds good, super excited to get underpaid to wrangle your poorly-behaved mutts who may or may not also wreck your house or run away and then texting her a cop-out once I was safely in my home…I said NO THANK YOU MA’AM right at her face. Round of applause for me.
Ok, now hold your applause because later this very same day, I tackled my first (and last) dinner shift for DoorDash. Scheduled for 5-7, I took my cocky delivery driver ‘tude out to the mean streets of Brick and was IMMEDIATELY humbled. I think it’s important to lay out my disadvantages for you right off the bat: I’m not from this area or this state in general, so not only do I have no clue where I’m going and have to rely on the GPS, but also I’m still on a learning curve with all of New Jersey’s stupid traffic patterns. The jughandle being the biggest culprit of my frustration. Sometimes you can take a left turn, sometimes you can’t. There’s no rhyme or reason to if it’s allowed or not, I just know that I’ll forever assume incorrectly and have to do an emergency three-lane sweep. Also, NJ loves to make an additional lane for .45 seconds and then taketh away. I’ll move over thinking I have to be in that lane for said jughandle and then BAM, lane is gone. I mean seriously, look at this ole ballsac lookin’ route just to hang a GD Louie. Not to mention the handful of times I’ve gone to the wrong location and realized I passed the right spot on the same side of the road, starting the whole crazy eights over again. It’s a miracle I haven’t yakked while driving here. Get your shit together, Jersey.
Secondly, I don’t eat at restaurants. When you live paycheck to paycheck, the easiest thing to save money on is takeout and if I’m gonna splurge on a night out I’d like to drink my hard-earned cash in the form of an espresso martini. So that means I don’t even have a general idea where restaurants in my area are because I don’t frequent them. Thirdly, and this is one I genuinely underestimated, I’m night blind. In my teen years I went to the eye doctor and got a pair of placebo glasses. They had no prescription but “glare resistant” lenses that were supposed to help with headlights at night. Mmk. Obviously I stopped wearing them almost immediately because they were basically what we now know as blue light glasses and they didn’t do shit. I also just figured no one can see at night?! I mean, is anyone really crushing it vision-wise in the pitch black cloak of night that starts at 4:30pm for half of the year?! You can get back to me on that.
Now that you understand my disabilities, let me now point out that basically nothing is in my control on DoorDash. They send me orders, I accept them all so I keep a 100% acceptance rate and I can’t see where they’re going to be delivered to until I pick the food up. Could be 5 mins away, could be 45 mins away. I have no real control over the timing of anything as restaurants could be busy, traffic could be bad, etc. I have no clue where I am so I just have to listen to the GPS even when it stinks and tries to send me on the Parkway.โI refuse to give the state of NJ any more money on my own day to day travel so over my dead body am I paying a toll so you can get your burrito 2 minutes faster. All that to say, I’m at the mercy of all of these external factors just because I’m hard up for cashola.
Ok, enough exposition, here’s where the night went off the rails. I was dinged for an order at a diner, promptly got lost on the way because it was on the left hand side of a divided highway and GOD FORBID we be able to get across the street in this state. When I got there the order hadn’t even been started yet. Being the good lil dasher that I am, I messaged the recipient to tell them it wasn’t my fault. In the time I spent waiting, DoorDash was like hey how about you pick up another order on top of this one that’s clearly not on time, making it even more late! OK, SURE! Eventually I scooped both foods then followed Google Maps 30 mins away to a gated community where I had to give the address to even be allowed in.
Naturally my cool confidence was still oozing out of me as I nervously blabbed to the security guard that I’m new to the Dash game and didn’t know what I was doing…did he need my ID or a crisp C-note to open the gate for me? He took pity on me and opened the gate probably sensing that I was about shout FIRE IN THE HOLE and toss the food out the window to get the hell out of there. As I’m winding through this elite village, I finally stop when the GPS announces in her holier than thou voice “you have arrived.” Oh, have I, bitch? I was in a cul-de-sac and most certainly had not arrived. I circled once in my car then said fuck it and started pounding the pavement to get my blind peepers closer to the numbers. None of which were the address listed. I can only imagine how much the NextDoor app was popping off with olds raising alerts for the chick in a full sweatsuit circling with wild eyes. (JK there probs wasn’t any commentary because I’m a white female.) I was stressed and knew I had someone else’s chicky parm sub still sitting in my car getting cold. And if there’s one thing I vowed to never be again, it’s stressed out by a job that doesn’t even give me health insurance. It ain’t worth it, BB. So I dropped the food, snapped a pic and hoped this person’s actual house was close enough that they could just walk two doors down and snag their food. As I’m whipping out of there to get to my next delivery, I receive the following text:
CRUSHING IT. What’s comforting to know is that at least we live in a world where everyone is super rational and very kind and forgiving to those in the service industry. SIKE! I woke up in a cold sweat later that night remembering that she could make my career as a dasher very short-lived with just one shitty review because I couldn’t find her dumb gate-kept house. And not for nothing but who orders disco fries for delivery? I did her a favor by delivering it to the wrong house and saving her from a styrofoam container of cold wet socks. After that peak dashing faux-pa, I closed out the night by paying a toll to deliver Chic-Fil-A and missing the road because I couldn’t see the street sign, again trolling very far on foot to circle back (because of course it was a one-way road.) Struggling to find house numbers, I finally stumbled upon the right one only to be plunged into blindness once again as a security flood light flashed my eyeballs right out of their damn sockets. As my corneas burned through my skull, I managed to snap a picture of their sogz waff fries and drink that I almost spilled on my little apartment 5K that I didn’t even get a medal for and ended my dash. At the close of this banner day, I was awarded $30 for a whole lot of sweatin’ and squintin’ and the harsh realization that I can’t hack it on the apps. UNLESS…anyone out there wants to pay to see what I’m workin with down below. ๐
There’s no post-Christmas blues here! My very real Christmas tree is still atwinklin (smelling pine fresh and not dropping needles at all so definitely super worth it, MOM AND DAD) and it is *oprah voice*AWAAAARRRRDDDSSS SEASON! Due to the strike, Emmy’s have been pushed to this month and we’re going to get a wham, bam, three in a row to start and I’m foaming at the mouth for reasons to shout my fashion opinions into the void. As always, I like to include my credentials as top bitch Fashion Police. Look no further than the Barbie sweatsuit I acquired recently that makes me look like the offspring of Tony Soprano and Barbie herself. Life in plastic, it’s fantastic, FUGGETABOUTIT.
WORST
I can’t quite tell what the material is that created these weird skeleton lines but it’s creepy and weird. Update: it just photographs horribly, on TV it looked shiny Gold. But the deed is done so sorry bout it.
Is O wearing cRuShEd VELVET?! Barf all over me.
WHOA this is unflattering. The black and white orca combo deal falling right at her hips and then adding on a full skirt?! Makes her look like a real wide load and I know she probably isn’t .
The hardest of hard no’s to this Catholic school girl, Fat Albert style.
One word: Peplum.
This woman won and as she was walking up to the stage and accepting her award using dramatic arm gestures, I figured it was only a matter of time until one of those big ole titties dumped right out on camera. WHAT A GAMBLE. You don’t have a set of knockers like that and then not strap them up for your safety and honestly everyone else’s as well. I will never understand top-heavy women going strapless.ย
This is such a damn snoozefest. Sure she looks beautiful, I can’t imagine a scenario where she wouldn’t but COME ON with this shapeless black frock and basic blowout. Also she’s up for No Hard Feelings? Are we for serious? That movie was horrific.
This rubbed me the wrong way and I’m not even really sure why. Sure, I don’t owe anyone an explanation because I wear the high fashion Barbie tracksuit and therefore I make the rules and youse don’t. But I will say I think it’s the butt bow/train situation.
Honesty is the best policy and seeing Natasha on this red carpet sent a COLD shiver down my spine because I endured what seemed like 6 whole months (really probably 6 weeks) of Old Navy commercials where they gave her the Lindsay Lohan Parent Trap special and her and another version of her both decked out in Old Navy duds screamed WOW over and over again until I wanted to literally rip my ears out of my skull and throw them into the ocean. So not only is this horned fringe frock a total monstrosity but if 30 years passed before I saw her again it would still be too soon.ย
I had the HIGHEST of expectations for Margot. She killed as Barbie. A stunning queen that is so flawless it didn’t for a second cross my mind that she wasn’t the actual idealized Barbie come to life. Each look in the movie was iconic and everyone in America agreed as she literally took over Halloween. My 6 year old niece wore her gingham number to trick or treat and I was legitimately jealous of her. But a glitter v-neck and a loofah as an accent? No ma’am, this ain’t it. She could’ve gone WILD, she could’ve been SO extra and over the top and everyone would’ve been like yes absolutely she’s just a Barbie girl in a Barbie world. And she went with this. What a disappointment. Even my sweat set blows this outta the water. (Y’all were thinkin it, I’m just sayin.)
Welp, at least Barbie and Ken go down together. This suit with a white outline is dumb and so are Ryan’s piecey bangs. YOU’RE RYAN GOSLING. You’re so stinking hot that people made memes of you for YEARS that just said Hey Girl and you can’t show up in your all-time best after you just depicted the fantasy boy toy?! Not to beat a dead horse but play into the Ken bit and show up in a ridiculously campy outfit. When else can you do that?! UGH guys, I mean do you need me to dress you too?! PS I realize this is the first awards show of the season and hopefully me coming down with the hammer now will result in amahzing Oscars getups for both Ken & Barbie.ย
This is fine but hits on one of my greatest style pet peeves of doing slicked back wet hair like you just hopped out of the shower. Ick city, population: me.
Say it with me now, POOOP SUIIITTTTTT. ๐ฉ
Love this lavender but if only she had lost this God-awful jacket. Or even ditched the puff sleeves on it because NOT EVERYTHING NEEDS TO BE PUFFY. Between flares coming back, we don’t need bell bottoms AND bell sleeves in our culture again. It’s too damn much.
I wanted so much more from him. This is dad at a wedding kind of lame.
This chick is just wearing pink saran wrap and you cannot convince me otherwise.
Lotta boob for me. I would’ve been cool with this if there was just a scooooch more coverage.
In the words of the late great Logan Roy, “Oh, fuck off.”
We get it, you have perky breasts. Congrats, booboo.
GIANT BOW DOES NOT A FASHION MOMENT MAKE.
ย
BEST
I could honestly be swayed either way on this. At first I was like nah to the black gloves and put it on the worst dressed but now I’m re-examining and I think I’m kinda down with this 1950’s sexy vibe. Plus she went onstage to present right at the same time and I saw the open back with a cute tiny bow and that really sealed the deal.
I never knew I needed to see Emma Stone with a Sweet Home Alabama era Reese hair flip until right this second. How stinkin adorable. The sparkles on this gown have managed to make the embroidered flowers less granny and more chic. Top to bottom win.
Ok with these lil bobsie sleek hairstyles! Back to back and I’m here for it. Beautiful, shimmery and flattering gown for America, love the square neckline.
And this is a fabulous example of how to make a tulle bottom skirt work! Fantasia’s stylist should take notes.ย
My homegirl who often texts me just never misses on a red carpet. Old Hollywood soft curls and a baby pink princess gown. Chef’s kiss. Also I may have ranted and raved about bell sleeves but let’s make full flower bouquet sleeves happen.
Stunning sequin work. Looks like it belongs in a museum.
I’m not really a fan of the color green, especially a shade as boogery as this one, but Taylor is nothing if not calculated in each color that she wears in public. So if I know my Swifties, we’ll have a theory by the time the clock strikes twelve. All I took away from this is that her rack looks phenomenal.ย
A big proponent of male cleavage, we’ve gotta give credit to the trailblazer and godfather of splashy looks, Lenny.
I’m obsessed with a matching set and I’m obsessed with glitz so of course I’m gonna get down with a sequin lady-suit.
Thanks to Calvin Klein we all are picturing what’s underneath here, amirite?! WINK.
Credit where credit’s due, sparkle jacket. Also that necklace is like one step away from being puka shells and that’s a line I’m not willing to let anyone straddle. Get your shit together, Tim.
I want this dress.ย
His luscious locks are still the envy of most women and he even manages to pull off leather gloves without looking like a total serial killer.
Kate threw me for a loop here! I’d expect to see Lady Gaga wearing this onstage and I’m pleasantly surprised to see it on a red carpet. Those platforms alone are a risk, mostly for a body cast if she takes a tumble but also fashionwise.
Perf fash choice for the cool girl 70’s musician role that she played.ย
A stellar red moment and another bob! Bobs are back, BB. Should I get one? LMK.
I can’t tell if she’s wearing bedazzled glasses or if it’s just the reflection of the camera flashes but I like them. As someone who used to wear fake glasses all the time as a kid because I thought they were cute, I love when someone rocks a pair of frames. The dress is kinda hotel bedsheet supreme so let’s just focus on the specs.
Timeless! (Guys, my best dressed list is HEAVY for this one and you KNOW how hard it is to think of something original to say for each and every outfit so please accept that I’ve crushed it thus far and I’m starting to fade.)
Honestly a little conflicted here because it’s John Krasinski and it would hurt my soul to put both John AND the Gos on the worst dressed but also anyone who wears a suit jacket of this color looks just like a waiter/bellhop/valet. The goal should be to not look like someone in the service industry when you’re a rich person dressing for an exclusive invite-only awards show. But we’ll let it slide, just this time.
Kristen has been getting edgier and edgier in her fashion choices and usually I puke in my hands at the sight of them but this one works! Props to this dark sexy angel lewk.
This works. That’s all I’ve got.
OH OK HANNAH, I SEE YOU. She knows how to WeRk that hourglass figure and I love the contrast of this little Morticia numba against the purest of beige flower walls.
Almost blends right into the background. Sure I mock bows a lot but this one seems to be an appropriate size for the dress. Honestly it’s size and placement that get my knickers in a twist when it comes to bows. Don’t put it on the butt and don’t have it be comically large in a weird spot and I won’t roast the smithereens out of it.
Initially I was like KEVIN COSTNER IS BACK, YO! Those shades? Ultimate cool guy move. But then…he did one of the cringiest bits with America Ferrera while presentingย and my sister and I exchanged a flurry of texts wondering if he was indeed ok. His voice was scratchy, he seemed real out of it and even the photo he posted was awkward. So someone pls do a wellness check on Kev.
You know my rule! I cut all of the snoozertons who wear the same black tux because they don’t deserve my fashion honors. It’s the risktakers I want to see like this bloke. His lapel is perfectly coordinated with the wall behind him.
Would’ve thought I’d hate this uneven hem but it’s doing exactly what it should be doing. A quick trick of the eye making her legs look hot hot hot. Great color too.
Is Elizabeth attending her own wedding?! Obsessed with the corset bodice and lace.
This is the closest Jen has gotten to “The Rachel” in years and how fun!! She looks sassy and youthful. She keeps it basic for her dresses usually but always looks like a 10 so no need to jazz that up.
She’s the Queen for a reason, people.
I genuinely forget that these two are married in real life and then a red carpet rolls around and I’m like oh ya. Look a lil stiff but this car wash frock is keeping things spicy!
Ya I know I dumped on her costar who was basically wearing the same thing but her version is just clicking better for me. Could be the skinny arm runway attitude.ย
It’s giving Amalfi Coast in the best kind of way. What a breezy leisure suit.
s/o this guy for giving me something different to look at. BUTTONS!
Chessie going for real life Jessica Rabbit in the best kind of way.
See John Krasinski’s caption for my thoughts on this shade of suit, but I’ll give it to him for the pattern switch-up. No, I did not get bullied into watching Saltburn like the rest of the internet did and surprisingly I have no FOMO.
GORGE. No notes.
BEST LOOK OF THE NIGHT:
HOLY BOMBSHELL! Not in the original roundup that I scrolled through before drafting this blog, when the camera panned to her for her nomination I literally gasped. WHAT A MOMENT. The coordinated red, the buttons, the leg, the cleavage. ALL OF IT HELL YES. And an additional moment of silence for that ribboned ponytail. Suffice to say, Midge would approve. Would’ve killed to see her attempt to get up onstage in this but unfortunately she didn’t take home a Globe.
That’s it for me for this round, see ya next weekend. Goombah Barbie, OUT. โ๏ธ
The past few years have been so overwhelming with networks boasting MORE NEW ORIGINAL CHRISTMAS MOVIES than EVER BEFORE that I’ve set a date around Thanksgiving, preferably when I’m in the office, to curate a list. I don’t have time to watch every single piece of beloved holiday trash that Lifetime and Hallmark create, so instead I open the TV Guide lists in one tab, and Google images in another tab to gauge attractiveness of the leads. It’s a foolproof method, or so I thought, until I went to DVR two of the flicks on my list and realized they were from last year. You had ONE job, TV Guide. Get your shit together. So my apologies to all my diehards who rely on my list to narrow their focus for including a couple of gently-used movies. It won’t happen again. Next year I’ll be double checking dates while I assess if the guy is hot enough to commit to watching. Now that I’ve owned up to my mistake, here’s my official list that I was working off of this year (but of course strayed because my TV was basically showing movies everyday for a month.)
ExMas – Freevee (aka Amazon Prime)
This was hands down my favorite newbie this season and it has everything to do with the fact that I’m obsessed with Robbie Amell. He’s sarcastic and a total babe soda and if you haven’t watched beloved teen comedy The DUFF, you’re doing yourself a Robbie disservice. Anywho, exes Graham and Allie run into each other when Graham’s Christmas-obsessed fam thinks he can’t make it home for the holidays so they extend the invite to Allie who had no one to celebrate with. Obviously the result was Graham betting Allie that his family will kick her out by Christmas and them trying to sabotage each other. We all know every great movie starts with a bet. I was only ten minutes into watching this bad boy and I laughed out loud. Unironically! I think this is a Christmas movie first! It was fun to watch the war of the exes and even more fun when we get a bang, bang. bangity bang. (Spoiler alert, but also this is why more non-cable networks should be in the Christmas movie game, GIVE THE PEOPLE WHAT THEY WANT!) Will my top two movies both include sex scenes? Affirmative. Will that be the reason they’re my top two? I’ll never tell. Honorable mention to Graham’s awkward sister who quickly became my favorite character for her commentary.
A Merry Scottish Christmas – Hallmark
Brad and Lindsey are overworked sibs who donโt speak much anymore but their mom summons them to Scotland for Christmas. This is where they learn that their mom was actually supposed to be a Duchess but she ran away to America and if they want to be royals and take over the castle they can. Sick Christmas gift. Visually this movie is stunning. In fact, if I don’t spend at least one Christmas in a castle, I’ll KMS. The scenery is kinda the only saving grace to an otherwise pretty boring movie. I also hate to be the one to point this out if you didn’t notice it while watching, but I don’t buy these two as brother and sister. It was giving big-time we’re supposed to be playing siblings but we’re giving off romantic chemistry vibes. At one point Brad makes a life decision with his wife and Lindsey is like WTF I THOUGHT WE WERE IN THIS TOGETHER. So maybe she wants to marry her brother? Just sayin, it did cross my mind. Honorable mention to the mom who grew up Scottish royalty but has a British accent as an adult even though she’s lived in America since she was 20. If thereโs one thing Iโm great at, itโs pointing out bullshit accents in low-budge movies. And of course, can’t forget to mention the nod to Party of Five (where Scott and Lacey played siblings who didn’t want to bang each other) by naming the bar they went to “Salinger Pub.”
Christmas Plus One – Lifetime(last year)
Speaking of weird sibling relationships. I wanted to relate to these sisters who are besties but then they showed their tradition of making Christmas wishes in matching jammies as adults and both of them wished to meet their soulmate and God, that’s insufferable. Amy meets her “soulmate” and is planning a Christmas wedding, and en route to that wedding, Cara thinks she meets her “soulmate” (please note that I’m putting this in quotes to reiterate the fact that soulmates do not exist IRL, just in RomComLand.) But oopsie, Cara loses his number and then spends the rest of the movie trying to find this guy again but enlists the help of another guy and yup, you guessed it, she found ANOTHER “soulmate”! This movie wasn’t awful but I will note that they leaned WAY too hard into the almost kiss AND just missing each other as she searched for the stranger she decided she should marry based on their love for Christmas. Lifetime LOVES an interrupted kiss but putting both almost kisses and almost run-ins together was incredibly annoying I basically spent the whole movie screaming JUST GET IT OVER WITH ALREADY.
Planes, Trains, and Christmas Trees – Lifetime(last year)
This bitch is so high strung with a stick up her ass that I truly couldnโt watch more than 5 mins of her squawking about making it home in a snowstorm for work. A rare instance, but sometimes theyโre just so unwatchable that you canโt commit to the bit, especially when you donโt have anyone with you to turn it into a drinking game. #SorryNotSorry
Christmas Island– Hallmark
Andrew Walker is a fan favorite, so I was glad my sister had DVR’ed this pre-Thanksgiving movie so we could dive in together with a garlic asiago dip. I was even more glad when we turned this abomination off. The kids were more a part of the storyline than we originally anticipated and as you might remember, we don’t do kid-heavy Hallies. If you’re wondering what this movie was about look no further than my sister’s observation five minutes in: โThe premise of this movie is fucking weird, theyโre going to hold these people hostage on Christmas Island?โ They sure are!
Never Been Chrisโd – Hallmark
After cutting Christmas Island short, we landed on this gem about high school besties who fight over their crush as grown women and folks, this is our sweet spot. Especially because the almighty Chris Silver that these two bozos have been obsessed with since they were teens seems like he’s a little slow. There’s something not clicking upstairs for Chris and yet that doesn’t stop him from having women slobber all over him. Guess that’s what it’s like to be a man! (My sister did eventually confirm that this is just how this specific actor talks, and he’s not playing someone struggling with a brain injury.) As this entire high school gathers in their hometown at the holidays we’re treated with a CRINGEWORTHY scene where a group of former “popular” kids play Never Have I Ever-Christmas Cookie Edition where they all just relive how cool they were in high school, which obviously makes them giant losers as grown-ups. I don’t think this movie was trying to give off a peaked in high school vibe, but it reeeaallyyyy did. After a few too many group dates, one including a kiss (apparently Chris Silver is The Bachelor), Liz and Naomi play rock, paper, scissors for who will marry Chris Silver. Just kidding, Liz bows out gracefully and Naomi declares he’s the one after a tongue-less smooch. Merry CHRISmas!
Catch Me If You Claus – Hallmark
Avery Quinn is trying to be promoted to a news anchor and Santa is apparently in his thirties now. In the spirit of transparency, this movie took such a weird left turn that I also ditched it before the end. It started out normal then had like a crime storyline and suddenly it became a holiday heist movie and that’s really not what I’m signing up for when I pour myself a tall glass of wine to watch people fall in love at Christmas. Also Santa shouldn’t be my age. BYE BYE.
Christmas in Notting Hill– Hallmark
Georgia is a teacher in the US visiting her sister who lives in London and also happens to date the brother of a famous footballer, Graham. But before they find out their sibs are together, the romance between G-squared sparks with a classic slamming into each other at a Christmas market and heโs like come to mine and sheโs like yeah why not go to a strange manโs house in a foreign country like the movie Taken never happened! Obviously it didn’t end in abduction, it ended like every girlie who grew up wanting David Beckham to be their boyfriend wished for, which is why I have a soft spot for this incredibly cheese-tastic movie. Somethin about dating an athlete (I guess Taylor Swift is rubbing off on us all) and London at Christmas made me put up with a whole lot of garbage. For example, when the sisters do a choreographed dance to a DAVID ARCHULETA version of “Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays” like that isn’t the biggest diss to THE YEAR OF THE N*SYNC COMEBACK. Or when their dad shouts every piece of dialogue because he thinks that’s what acting is. Or when homegirl wears a beret for practically the entire movie. There were LENGTHY pop culture references from Gilmore Girls to Ted Lasso and none of them made any sense. If you wanted to spice up your viewing of this movie, you could play a drinking game where you drink every time the girl who only brought one suitcase to London wears a different fancy coat (pssst, you might die.) But the cherry on top is when production went for the ole “full sheets of computer paper” blizzard. And YET I still loved it!
Laughing All The Way – Lifetime
My initial interest in this movie was 1000% based on needing to see how the most painfully unfunny network on TV tackles a movie centered around stand-up comedy. My expectations were rock bottom and Lifetime still managed to do EVEN worse than I imagined. Stick to serial killers and holiday romance, guys. Aubrey is a jokewriter for an insufferable old bat who is supposed to be a club owner and comedian but isn’t funny at all (you’ll notice a theme here.) It’s almost like someone watched Hacks and was like let’s take this idea, make it the opposite of funny and add Christmas into the mix! Mike Baxter is supposedly a big comedian who is coming back to his hometown to get in touch with his comedy roots again because he’s gotten too mainstream and Hollywood wants him for action movies and not stand-up specials. I think that’s what makes this movie steaming hot garbage, is that this supposed famous comedian comes back to coach this chick and somehow start doing a comedy duo when NEITHER OF THEM ARE FUNNY. I’ve gotten more laughs from an off-handed comment at the dog park and these two are performing material they’ve been writing for the entire length of the movie. The BIG finale set from Aubrey is just one run-on joke about asking for health insurance for Christmas. BLOW MY BRAINS OUT! If I sound enraged, please know that I am. Even my mom had one eye shut halfway to snoozeytown and goes โthis movie blowsโ and she was not wrong. Check it out if you want to hear a bunch of people tell each other they’re the funniest person ever without anyone actually being fUnNnY. Or… if you want to see a guy try 90’s Adam Sandler jokey songs in the Year of our Lord 2023. I wish I could scrub this scene and the whole entire movie from my memory immediately. But mostly this scene.
Haul out the Holly: Lit Up– Hallmark
In a rare and special occurence, a subpar holiday movie from last year got a sequel! Leave it up to Hallmark’s reigning queen (since CCB trotted on over to Great American Family) to lead two movies this year, one being a sequel. If you’ll recall from last year Emily moves back to her wacky family’s neighborhood where they take Christmas so seriously, citations are given out for not having the correct sized nutcracker and her childhood friend Jared is the king of giving out citations. They fall in love despite the fact that this guy turned out to be a real loser, and now they BOTH foam at the mouth over Christmas. A little too much if you ask me. It started off a little culty with one telling the other, โI donโt feel like youโre prioritizing Christmas enough.” Then an annoying YouTube family the Jolly Johnson’s move to town and give me a headache within seconds. A war begins between the neighborhood vets and the newcomers about how Christmas should be celebrated, and the she-Johnson has such a punchable face and a shrill voice that I almost ripped my TV off of the stand and boomeranged it into the floor several times. I think the only reason I kept watching (and didn’t destroy my television) was because Wes can GET IT in those glasses.
A Cowboy Christmas Romance – Lifetime
We’re making history here as this marks the first cable TV Christmas movie to have an actual sex scene!!! What did we do to deserve this?! Oh yeah, suffered through THOUSANDS of shitty movies where the leads have an almost kiss 900 times and then close out with a dry peck as the fireworks finish. I’ve been Christmas cockblocked for too long and I’m thrilled to usher in this change. Next year all the movies better include penetration or WE RIOT! Anyway, this flick kicks off with Lexi spewing some real estate jargon about millennials which is a scooch triggering for me right now as Iโll never be able to afford a home and will rent until Iโm six feet under. THANKS A LOT, BIDEN. I didn’t stay bitter for long because at the 12 minute mark we got a full blown makeout and Lexi didn’t even know his name yet. SCANDAL. For some context, Lexi traveled back to her hometown to get Coby Mason (such a hot cowboy name) to sell his family ranch. But the twist is that Lexi’s family owns every other ranch and she hasn’t spoken to them in a decade. There’s just as much family drama as there is romance but the romance in this movie is SEX-AY. The cowboy lays it on THICK talking about horses like foreplay then the “lets get it on” scene is everything I could’ve hoped and dreamed. These were the exact notes I took in the moment: “THE LIFT ON THE TABLE FOR A MAKEOUT HELL YEA! SEX IN A BARN. HOT COWBOY ABS.” Honestly this was a heartwarming family tale but all I will remember is the barn sex. 10/10 recommend.
Holiday in the Vineyards – Netflix
Carterโs a rich spoiled asshole with vineyard money and Valentina is a widowed real estate agent selling a shitty vineyard in a town where everyone makes wine in their garage. It was a real change of pace to see someone other than this man’s wife playing his love interest on Netflix but I gotta be honest that was just about the only thing that made this movie different from A California Christmas (1 & 2.) But if it ain’t broke don’t fix it, we love a countryside wine soaked Christmas with a side of gratuitous abs.
I normally hate a side couple storyline but Moe the hardware store owner/sommelier and Cindy the LaToya Jackson lookin’ white friend were fun and I was here for it. Even when she said “I did not always put the sin in Cindy,” I wrote it down in case my mom needs a Real Housewives tagline should Andy Cohen ever expand to Syracuse. My favorite part of this movie that I devoured the same night it was released to Netflix was the delicious Latin dance scene that had me feeling all sorts of nostalgia for an early 2000’s dance chick flick. It was like Step Up: Garage Vineyard and I was HERE FOR IT.
Sealed with a List – Hallmark
Carley is a NERD bomber who lives with a 70 year old woman whoโs cooler than her. She’s made a list of things to accomplish before the new year and waits until Thanksgiving to enlist her entitled douche of a boss, Wyatt, to help her be cool/check everything off the list. Good fucking luck with making this chick cool, homeslice. In return, she’s supposed to help him be less of a rich douche. I started out hating this movie REAL strong but it actually grew on me and by the end I was rooting for this wannabe fashion designer who dressed and spoke like a little boy to get through her list and get her mans by the time her balls, I mean the ball, dropped. Probably helps that I L-O-V-E a list and seeing items get a satisfying checkmark makes me cream my jeans. Honorable mention to Carley’s BFF who moves to Italy for a year and comes back doing a SHITTY Italian accent and saying Bongiorno like the a*hole who studies abroad and makes it their entire personality.
The Holiday Proposal Plan (Lifetime)
What a DOOOOOOZY this one was. I am, of course, referring exclusively to the male lead’s most unfortunate hairstyle. I haven’t seen lettuce this bad since that demon from Supercuts hacked mine with a rusty machete in 2019, #NeverForget. I genuinely gasped when he entered stage left and then spent the next 10 mins photographing it from all angles so you really understand just how tragic this deep side part and floppy bang is.
BAD. This hurts my soul. In fact, I almost shut this movie off JUST because I was so triggered by this rooster coif. Then there was a moment of hope when he put on a winter hat and his attractiveness soared just by covering the male Snooki poof. I got all hot and bothered only to be immediately dosed in cold water when he plucked the hat off of his head and put it on his lady’s as a flirting technique. PUT IT BACK ON, GOOD SIR.
Anyway, if you must know, this movie is about BFF’s, one a travel writer and the other a broadcaster who have combined their “talents” to create a travel show. They’re mega annoying together, and blondie Brie is one of the worst actresses I’ve ever seen on this network and that’s saying a lot. Her boyfriend wants to put her and her over-emphasizing words on ice but they’ve both bought rings for each other. So best friend Sunny decides to force a proposal for a couple that are taking a break for the holiday and also write about it for personal gain at work. Her ex boyfriend Kip with the hardest side part in history who dumped her last Christmas because she chose work over visiting his family is along for the ride to help scheme this proposal. We hit a real low when the gang starts singing, if that’s what we can call it. WHY MUST WE WEDGE CAROLING INTO EVERY G-D MOVIE?! Not even Sunny and her Christina Aguilera riffs could save this group singalong. Honorable mention goes to Traveling Tweedle Dee & Tweedle Dum workshopping a new show name and landing on “Gals Gone Global: The Wild Wild West Coast Edition.” Really rolls off the tongue.
Flipping For Christmas (Hallmark)
Ending on a high note so you don’t have nightmares about the previous hairline. Abby visits her family for Christmas and her sister tricks her into flipping a house that was left by dead grandpa Frank with his contractor Bo. ObViOuSLy Abby’s motive is to sell the house for profit and Bo wants to turn it into a B&B for the town. It’s a classic tightwad corporate woman vs. townie salt of the earth guy. That doesn’t stop these two from living out an HGTV wet dream, complete with a flirty paint fight where Bo is wearing the shit out of a set of pink coveralls. Barbie who?! He is KENough.
While we’re on the topic of Bo being a total dimpled beefcake, he also casj donned a cable-knit sweater that made me swoon my face off.
Alright, now that I’ve cleaned my slobber up, I promise that in addition to a male lead that’s gunning for sexiest Christmas movie cream sweater (reigning champ is Dylan McDermott in Miracle on 34th Street and that seems pretty obvious) this movie has an actual storyline. There’s something for everyone! Lots of deep meaningful talks about loss and letting life happen instead of being psycho control freaks, AND sexually frustrated flirty banter between two hot people. Plus, an adorbs town full of Christmas traditions…a Hally staple. The only downside to this movie (or upside if you drink every time it happens) is Abby’s sister who delivers each and every line with a side of bugging her eyes completely out of her skull. It is jarring to say the least.
Merry Christmas fellow trashy movie lovers! See you here next year–same time, same place to dissect the high brow (attractive ppl only) made-for-TV holiday cinema.
I find myself once again cable-less. At this point, y’all should have bets or a drinking game associated with if I have cable at the moment or not. I don’t get why cable doesn’t just sponsor this blog, we’re 9 years in and TV has been my life for all 9 of those years (and more). Throw a girl a bone, I CAN’T AFFORD STREAMING AND CABLE IN THIS SINGLE INCOME HOUSEHOLD. So anyway, here I am peering through the window of a nice family sitting down for dinner while I sit out in the cold, hungry. AKA trolling People.com for red carpet photos of an awards show I’ll never see. A slave to the fashion, if you will.
WORST
A lot of ladies went with a bold red matching the carpet to the drapes and honestly didn’t love it overall. This also is a personal bias of mine (how dare I let those slip into my blog that almost no one reads) but no gown will ever make a giant winged chest tattoo elegant, try as she might by covering it up with that criss cross style. SARRY BOUT IT.
My homegirl Mickey is one of the bigger names to show up to this shindig and this dress looks like a cheap Forever 21 number. Ya gotta be better than a bedazzled club dress in an Easter pastel yellow.
When I tell you I GASPED at Nicole. Even though this is what I imagine my body would look like if I were to ever quit cheese fries and chicken tenders cold turkey, is she ok? I’m starting to get a little worried about AMC movie theatres’ number one fan. Not as worried as I am about Keith still wearing lifts in a chunky 90’s loafer so he can reach Nicole’s lips for a smooch.
I hate to do this because I like the Stapleton’s but this is such an iconic Taylor Swift look that people literally went batshit for recreating…I mean I just saw this dress on FB marketplace advertised as “the perfect Taylor Swift costume” and it feels wrong to copy it so boldly on another red carpet. I’m sure Morgane is a Swiftie just like the rest of America and wanted to pay her homage, but it feels like cheating to approve. Plus it’s kinda a cheap knock-off too I mean LOOK at the flower variety below circa the Grammys and tell me you still like the pre-school arts and crafts version above.ย
WHEN WILL STYLISTS DO AWAY WITH GIANT BUTT BOWS?! Stop trying to make it happen, it’s NEVER going to happen.
I remain largely unconvinced that this photo isn’t an AI creation. Not knocking Maddie and Tae because they’re both beauties but this photo looks like one of those perfect makeup Bratz cartoon Snapchat facial filters. Gonna need a video of these two speaking to prove they were actually there and this picture isn’t a couple of robots.
This pattern made me break out in a cold sweat. It was a trend I had long forgotten and I didn’t even realize how horrifying it was until I was triggered by this dress. Remember the Y2K era of sheer shirts and distressed tattoo-like designs? Let me remind you.
DO NOT BRING THIS BACK. (She says as if the result of this search wasn’t where you can easily buy these exact shirts today.)
Well that’s certainly one way to make a statement. It’s not a statement I’m ready to accept but maybe some other fashion critic is tickled horny by this Xtina Dirrty music video getup.
Change it up my dudes. I’m convinced that these two wear the same exact thing at every awards show and I don’t have any facts to back that up. Of course you could always just look back on the archives of red carpets here to prove me right or wrong but ain’t nobody got time for that. This sparkly little jacket is giving off big time Vegas vibes and the awards show is happening in Nashville so STRIKE 3.
This dress is tacky as hell right down to the stripper heels as is having matching purple hair.
What we’re supposed to believe Post Malone is country now? Get the hell outta here, bro. Hand in your bolero at the door.
I’m SORRY WHAT?!
Are we just treating red carpets like a Halloween party now? This is literally just a Pretty Woman costume. That would be like me attending the Grammys in the iconic Andie Anderson golden gown wearing the Isadora diamond. I mean come on is anyone original anymore?!
These bell bottoms are OUT OF CONTROL.
Sick brown plaid suit, Luke. NAAAAHHHHHHT.
What the actual fuck are we looking at here? I mean furrealz Halloween was weeks ago and everyone has their Christmas trees up by now so WHAT IS WITH THE COSTUMES?! Is this a bit? Am I missing something? Cause imagine a cute girl like this was like I’ll only walk the red carpet if I can dress like a sexy construction worker and drag around a giant orange cone. She should be banned from all future awards shows for this stunt. Mostly because of the neon camel toe we were all just subjected to without warning.
BEST
This is just a good ole country boy happy to be here, shirt tassels blowing in the breeze.
As much as I wish that Luke Bryan stayed young forever shaking his hips onstage in a white tee, jeans, and a backwards hat, I understand that everyone must mature and he does cool dad leather jacket black tie just as well. His wife has always looked like a Golden Globe.
What a sassy little piรฑata jumpsuit!
Obsessed with everything about this dress.
Oh ok, Paula Abdul, I see you.
The only red gown I approved of because she flawlessly matched her lip and also didn’t completely rip off a fictional hooker from the 90’s.
Sara Evans serving a tasteful amount of leg and just the right amount of razzle dazzle.
Really into this coordinated hunter green situation. How very fall of them.
I like that Chris went classic Prince Charming black tux and let his lady shine as Cinderella.ย
I legit had to mop up a little drool after seeing this pic. Sure, Riley is Babetown USA regardless of what he’s wearing but he went RIGHT for my weak spot with this oatmeal suit. Every piece of clothing I have purchased in the last 8-10 months has been EXCLUSIVELY oatmeal. I’m going through an earth tones nude phase that I may never find my way out of and Riley absolutely understood the assignment. A classic choice.
This has got to be one of the goofiest poses that a red carpet photographer has ever captured which leads me to believe that this guy ONLY poses with his head cocked to the side like he’s confused and yet also intrigued. This gent is the first ever Golden Bachelor and we needn’t learn his name because he will fade into oblivion as soon as this season wraps up. Gotta give credit where credit is due, this blue suit is a GREAT choice which was his only saving grace from not getting absolutely roasted on my worst dressed.
Morgan Wallen chopped that God-awful mullet (take a hint, Kyle Cooke) and he’s clearly feeling fancy free and funky fresh with this burnt sienna jacket. It’d be even cuter if the mustache got deleted next.
Very into this half and half sparkle. Super flattering and fun without being tacky.
No clue what warranted a HubbHouse appearance at the CMA’s other than the fact that she’s on a full press tour bashing Carl. But I love a girl who is shamelessly doing post-breakup revenge looks. Hubbs spent all of BravoCon last weekend accentuating her assets and this jazzy gown full of cutouts and slits its no different. Eat your heart out, Carl. Less stress. More Life.
BEST LOOK OF THE NIGHT:
These two are having a real moment in the spotlight right now. Instead of being the bitter bitch that I usually am, I’mma let them have it. WE LOVE LOVE! LET THEM BE IN THEIR LOVE BUBBLE! Kelsea is shoveling dirt over the grave that was her marriage by singing songs with snarky insults to her ex all while she’s gallivanting all over with her new hot piece BF that she got by sliding into his DM’s, John B Chase. She looks amazing, she just crushed her first headlining show in her hometown while he watched in the crowd crying at how beautiful and talented she is, and truthfully every song she’s released in the past year has been catchy as hell. And now that I’m done slobbering over two hot famous people banging, this pink gown and soft old Hollywood glam curls are Chef’s Kiss.
Sometimes I go on a real hot streak of consuming every piece of content that hits Netflix. Ever the charitable blogger, I’m happy to share with anyone who actually has a life, what you absolutely don’t need to waste your time binging. It also feels vital to point out that even though I may SEEM like a giant smelly loser who watches TV all the time, I happen to work from home 3 days a week and I do my best work from the couch, duh. It’s called MULTITASKING, ever heard of it?
*Even though I’m mouthy as hell, I will not include any spoilers so you can decide just based on my strong opinions if you should watch, as my opinions are definitely more important than your own.
The Lincoln Lawyer
Season 1: 10 episodes | Season 2: 10 episodes (50 mins)
Kicking off this list by including a show I actually watched over the summer. Sue me. For anyone who ever texts me for reccies (or asks me what she should watch every weekend, lookin at you mom) sometimes I forget about a show if it’s not currently new. So that’s why I wanted to shove this one in your faces. It came out last year and there are 2 seasons available and a third on the way. Based on the book/movie/true life story(?) genuinely don’t know if this is based on a true story but that feels right. Hot shot lawyer Mickey Haller is known for always driving around/working out of his Lincoln and this series follows his high profile cases and his juicy love life. This show has got it AWL. Everyone in it is hot, ESPECIALLY Neve Campbell who legit hasn’t aged a day lookin like a damn snack, it has crime, mystery, family storylines, cliffhangers, drama, comedy, and of course romance. Whatcha waiting for?! Check it out, yo!
Whitney Houston: I Wanna Dance with Somebody
Another kind of “old” one, this came out a while back and I added it to my list because I knew I had too many different cities of housewives on my plate to be able to give it my undivided attention. I finally watched it last weekend and thoroughly enjoyed this tour of Whitney’s greatest hits. Honestly, I never knew much about Whitney’s background/personal life other than her being a super sweaty crack addict with Bobby Brown because that’s what was happening in my formative years. I missed her glory days in the early 90’s because I was an infant and not yet consuming pop culture. So color me surprised when this movie starts with Whitney and her bestie Robyn gettin HoT & HeAvY. I knew they were rumored to have dated at one point but I didn’t know they lived together and then when Whitney got her record deal she was like let’s just be BFF’s, no scissoring now. And that was it. Robyn just stepped down as her girlfriend and worked for her for like 20 years. WHAT A HERO. That is the true definition of a bigger person. Gets dumped so Whitney can look like a hetero to the press and have kids one day and homegirl still stands by her. Anyway, that’s not really a spoiler because the movie spends like 10 minutes on this but clearly that was the biggest takeaway for me, Robyn is a ride or die. I guess that phrase is a scooch insensitive seeing as we all know how this movie ends. But you get the point. The movie also clued me in to what a BFD the below performance was and how basically no other singer would be able to vocally accomplish the range in this medley.
Love Again
One of my favorite traditions in life is to watch something horrifically bad and then pretend it was good to get someone else to watch it and suffer alongside me. This tradish goes hand in hand with my hard and fast rule that if I have to see or hear something terrible, everyone else does too. My sister is well-versed in this as she’s usually the unsuspecting victim who will get a random picture of an ugly baby on a Wednesday. IF I HAD TO SEE IT SO DO YOU, BOO. And with that precursor, I think we can conclude how this movie was. I’m always hard up for a new romantic flick and I was rabid to consume this, I think I caught it on opening night (Yikes, Julia, get a social life.) I wish I could’ve unseen it. Celine Dion plays herself in this movie and for whatever reason doles out love advice while the male lead listens to her music on repeat and quotes her lyrics back to her. I love the SHIT out of Celine Dion. She’s a hitmaker and a legend and her French Canadian accent will forever make me giggle. And yet, I don’t need a romantic drama centered around her giving dating tips. Also the premise of this movie was CREEEEEEPY. Mira loses her boyfriend in the first 5 mins and we watch her go through the stages of grief and then start texting her dead boyfriend’s number as if he can read it in Heaven. And Rob accidentally receives these texts. Whoopsie, guess phone numbers don’t die with people, they just get transferred. Classic mixup except that this stranger READS ALL OF HER MESSAGES and uses them to find her in real life and pretend they just bumped into each other and start dating. EW TIMES A MILLION. Even my homeslice Celine couldn’t fix this atrocity of a movie with a power ballad.
Love At First Sight
Bringing things back up with this one, I swear you can always count on movies meant for teens to clean up the mess that romances about thirty-somethings made. Hadley and Oliver have the meet-cute of the century when they end up on the same flight to London just falling in love in the air. Every time I’m on an airplane I wonder if I’ll meet the love of my life and then within 4 seconds of taking off when I immediately go lights out I remember that if anyone ever talked to me for the entirety of a flight, I’d be one of those people who opens the emergency exit just to see what happens. Being stuck on a stinky recycled air tin can with your knees to chest is already punishment enough, no need to add chitchats. Luckily for these two cuties, they were flying business class and got all of the perks of the rich so it was like a 7 hour first date and not mid-air get to know each other torture. Classic rom-com trope: not getting each other’s number and having to find each other in a big city. Supes realistic, but this movie had weddings and funerals and young love and it was a fine little Friday night flick. I ugly cried but that’s not saying much because I do that a lot. I just have a lot of feelings. PS I thought FOR SURE the dad in this movie (Rob Delaney) was a gay guy trying to play a straight and not really succeeding so I raced to IMDB to look him up and it turns out he is very much married to a woman and let me tell you…overtly flamboyant is a CHOICE for playing a straight dad. Totally threw me off.
Beckham
4 Episodes (1 hr 15 mins ea)
I was SO excited to see a doc about Becks and even more so when they teased a clip of Victoria sharing that they both came from humble beginnings and Becks pokes his head in the room and goes let’s be honest, Victoria, what car did your dad drive you to school in? And when she answered a Rolls Royce after he forced it out of her, he ducked back out of the room. You mean Becks and Posh were British pop culture royalty of the 90’s AND they’ve got witty banter?! Sign me up. Well that clip was mostly false advertising as this was really a doc about David’s soccer career. Not really a soccer fan considering I’m a trash American who calls it soccer, so a lot of this was snoozeworthy. It did, however, give glimpses into their romance, which I ate right up. I didn’t know David was such a diva who demanded perfect hair at all times, nor did I know that the world literally shit bricks every time he dared to change his hairstyle. Guess we all feel invested in this perfect male specimen. True to a doc about famous figures, produced by said famous figures (ahem, the MJ doc) it was a real puff piece all around. We didn’t get any intel on the affair that Becks definitely had while he was in Spain, just a real gloss-over job of “that was a difficult time in our relationship.” Obviously I wanted the dirt, but they’re not about to air their cheating scandal out 20 years later. It’s a great watch for anyone who has followed Becks or his career through the years or likes sports, or for someone like me who is just nosy and looking for juicy tidbits. If I could watch a weekly reality show on David Beckham grilling mushrooms in his private kitchen and then kicking it with his wife and kids listening to Islands in the Stream, I’d be happy as a clam.
This movie came out and I kept seeing tweets about it so when my mom asked me what she should watch, I told her this title and said I hadn’t had a chance to see it yet but it’s been buzzed about. Wouldn’t you know that sneaky lil B mom of mine watched it and goes, “it was interesting” and so I watched it a couple nights later and it was APPALLING. Did my mom just beat me at my own game?! Did I inherit this game from her?! It’s all coming together. WHAT A TRAP that I watched this. The opening scene is Emily and Luke sneaking off to a bathroom at a public party and when Luke goes downtown on Emily, he comes back up lookin like a crime scene and her silk gown is covered in her own blood. YUM! And THEN he proposes. WHAT A FAIRYTALE. My first thought was EW my mom watched this immediately followed by DOUBLE EW my mom watched this and then was like you should watch too! The rest of this movie was downhill FAST. Emily and Luke are both sellin stocks and she gets a promotion and he doesn’t and he turns into a real dick about it because his precious man ego can’t handle her being better than him. Tale as old as time. It was two hours of Phoebe Dynevor struggling to mask her British accent because she was supposed to be from Long Island and it ended in one of the weirdest standoffs I’ve ever witnessed between a couple. A real shitshow start to finish proving that just because there’s buzz on Twitter, doesn’t mean something is worth watching.
No Hard Feelings
I’m aware of the fact that this was actually a blockbuster release in theaters before it made its way onto Netflix. Other than pulling a big name like JLaw, I’m wondering why this movie got funding to be a theater release. In a rather washed up comedy trope, Jennifer’s character Maddie is a broke a$$ bitch looking to do anything to save her childhood home from being snatched back by the town, and Percy’s weirdo parents are willing to hand over a car to anyone who will boink their introverted 18 year old son. Maddie is supposedly 32 in this movie and goes hard in the paint tossing her hot pocket at an 18 year old who looks like he’s about 15 and that’s where I’m out. It was giving off big-time statch rape vibes and I cringed so hard that my face hurt when this movie concluded. Not to be sexist but when older men pursue younger women, the women at least LOOK like they’ve hit puberty…guys these days look like they’re 12 until they’re 30. I don’t make the rules, I just know I don’t want to watch a romcom that is eerily similar to a Lifetime movie about Mary Kay Letourneau. Why do you think they cast 30 year old dudes in high school shows? So we don’t feel like a bunch of pervs lusting after a senior with a six pack DUH. Anywho, this movie made me WANT to cover my eyes many times and *ACTUALLY* cover my eyes during one particular fully nude fight scene. PS Matthew Broderick’s look in this movie is also pretty jarring. A far cry from the leopard vest wearin’ babe soda he once was as Ferris Bueller.
Super Pumped: The Battle for Uber
Showtime & Netflix, 7 episodes (60 mins)
Quick rundown of this series and every other series that focuses on someone from Silicon Valley: they are a selfish and greedy asshole. That pretty much sums it up. The Zuckerbergs, Jobs, Musks, Gates, and Bezos of the world are all the same. They’re smart but they’re also not above stealing ideas or breaking laws to get what they want. And Travis Kalanick of Uber is no different. Do I love and regularly use every single product that all of these white men have “created”? Sure do. But that doesn’t mean I need to see Hollywood make another biopic or series about a self-centered butthole who tries to justify being a terrible person by calling himself a “disruptor?” NOPE. Do yourself a favor and skip this one because it’s the same as all the others. Also, FWIW, super boring and drawn out. Not even my Lord and Savior Coach Taylor could make this palatable.
Old Dads
This is the EXACT movie you’d guess it is once you see that Bill Burr wrote, directed & starred in it. So if you want to be angry at the world in all of its wokeness, saddle up partner. There were a few moments where I laughed out loud but mostly it was just the same old jokes with heavy handed old school conservative vs new age libby undertones. As you might infer from the title, this movie is about three old dads. They work together and are navigating parenthood for the first time as a bunch of old crusties and basically fighting with every youth they cross paths with. It serves its purpose in making fun of the current state of the world and I didn’t mind it but if Bill Burr’s rageaholic style of comedy isn’t your preferred brand, I’d say don’t tune into this flick. Also, I may have gotten more than a little triggered when their new boss who is in his twenties calls himself a “disruptor” because I had just finished binging the aforementioned series about Uber-douche who used the term disruptor 8 zillion times and if I ever hear that dumbass buzzword again it’ll be too soon.
Pain Hustlers
When Netflix is on a whirl with something, they don’t stop until every angle of every story has been told and that’s certainly the case with the opioid crisis. I feel like I’ve seen about 5 options just in the past year of big Pharma related content. Spoiler alert: the doctors and drug sales reps of this industry are JUST AS TERRIBLE as the silicon valley turds. Three cheers for the richest people in our country also being the worst! And probably getting richer the more we write books and create movies about them!!! Despite the world going to hell in a handbasket and me sitting on my couch shoving a cookiewich into my cookiewich hole consuming it all for entertainment, this was a decent movie. I mean, I don’t know how it couldn’t be with Chris Evans and Emily Blunt at the helm. Based loosely on true events not an actual person, Liza Drake’s a poor single mom who can’t seem to make enough money to take care of her kid until she finds herself working as a pharmaceutical rep and skyrockets into richie rich-land unfortunately at the cost of basically anyone who uses this drug. The company gets the Feds on their tail because apparently when you prescribe fentanyl spray to people who have addictive tendencies for a migraine and not for cancer side effects, you’re probably going to get those people hooked and/or overdosing like nobody’s biz. I may have never dabbled in recreational drugs but every idiot on the planet knows fentanyl is the big bad wolf so suuuure let’s just spritz it on our tongue whenever we have an ache or pain! PS Phoebe can take an acting class or two from Emily who flawlessly gave us a Florida accent in this movie with no detection of her Brit roots.
Get Gotti
3 episodes (50-60 mins ea)
With Italian blood flowing deep, it would be sacrelidge of me not to love a good mafia joint. I’m all over any new peek behind the curtain of Cosa Nostra like Sunday sauce on a meatball. In fact, when I studied abroad in Italy, I took a whole class on the mafia. Gotta pay respect to my ancestors where it’s due and obviously the only way to do that is to watch a series about how BALLER it was to be a mafia boss and thank my lucky stars I was never alive during the height of this madness because I would truly poop my pants. Gotti made the mafia a little *too* mainstream in the 80’s acting more like a celebrity and less like a guy who kills people for a living and unfortunately, it didn’t end so well for him. But this series showed me what a disaster it was for THREE law enforcement branches to take him down and I know I’m not supposed to laugh at the incompetency of cops and cheer for a stone cold killer but it is a little bit funny that between local, state, and federal investigators, they were ousted by a bad guy this many times. This series wasn’t too drawn out like many can be and I’d definitely recommend to anyone like me who is a crime/mafia junkie.
Heather McMahan: Son I Never Had
Every once in a while I dabble in the latest stand-up special that drops. I’ve seen Heather before via her podcast or TikToks that she does and I think she’s pretty funny. Unfortunately, that didn’t translate to stand-up comic level of funny for me. Comedy is super subjective and different brands are not everyone’s cup of tea. So I guess I can’t really tell you whether this is worth watching or not but I can reveal that I didn’t laugh at one joke, and I’m gonna go ahead and declare it a bust for me, personally. She talks a lot about her childhood, her weight, and the death of her dad, if you’re into that sort of thing.
Big Vape: The Rise and Fall of Juul
4 episodes (45 mins)
I don’t even know why I smashed play on this. To be honest I only just started it as I wrote this blog and immediately in epi 1, my trigger term disruptor was used and I wanted to Hulk Smash the TV. This series follows the rise of those little thumb drive lookin ciggies that have become all the rage with the youths. I was clearly looking to get pissed by watching this because I famously make fun of Gen Z on this blog and Juuls and vaping is EXCLUSIVE to that generation. Dressing like the Olsen Twins circa 1993 and pluming it up on a flash drive. That’s what they do best. One kid featured in this doc had a collapsed lung from how much he was vaping and he RECORDED them inflating his lung again for the Tok. Ope, hang on a second, Doc, gotta make sure I set up my tripod/ring light and catch this for all of my followers! OUR FUTURE IS IN THEIR HANDS. Ok now I’m just getting mad about it again and basically transforming into Old Dad, which honestly is my personality anyway. The best/worst part about this series is that they created Juul to be HEALTHIER than cigarettes. LOLOLOLOL, yeh, sure, ok, babes.
Love is Blind, Season 5
11 episodes (1 hr 15 mins ea)
Obviously this show is not new and I’m not recommending it as it’s been around for quite a few years now. I’m here to cancel it. That’s right, The Salty Ju cancels Love is Blind. This last season which ended mid October SUCKED. It sucked so bad that I think the entire premise has jumped the shark. Love is no longer *TRULY* blind. They couldn’t even drum up enough couples to follow this season. They’re casting people that have already dated, they’re erasing couples from the edit with no explanation, past cast members have publicly declared they were starved and emotionally abused in the process, half of the couples break up or get divorced after their final reunion or “catch-up” episode airs. It’s just all shady shit. It’s not even fun to laugh at these clowns anymore. (With the exception of the photo above, the only time I truly laughed out loud this season when they did Izzy the DIRTIEST and had him sitting like a toddler with his legs dangling as he tries to impress his future bride’s dad who thinks he’s a poor schmuck.) We will never be able to recreate the magic of Shane looked tweaked out as shit on his wedding day, try as he might to keep doing so on the interweb. Even host Vanessa Lachey pissed people off so much during the Season 4 reunion that I thought for SURE she’d get bounced and yet she was back this season after a stern meeting with HR I’m sure, as she was notably more subdued and not foaming at the mouth asking if each woman was ovulating and when they would present the first LIB child to sacrifice at the altar. At this point I can’t stand Vanessa so much that I hope the show gets cancelled just so she’s out of a job because she 100% should’ve been shit-canned after S4. So you heard it here first, LOVE IS BLIND IS DEAD.
Might I suggest an alternative? Hop on over to the Bravo universe where there are 14,000 reality shows full of dummies to immerse yourself in. Not to brag but I decided at the beginning of September that I was sick of being left out of the Summer House dramz and watched all six seasons and the two seasons of chilly spin-off Winter House in less than a month. When I put my mind to something, I really get after it. Instead of enjoying the last warm weekends of a beach summer, I was Mrs. Send It with Kyle, Amanda, Carl, and Lindsay right in my living room. Who needs real friends when you can just rip and tear it up with a gang who can afford to live in the Hamptons every summer and wreck the mansion they rent by filling the pool with tea for their 4th of July party?! If this doesn’t show you how qualified I am to deliver hot takes on the latest streaming content, I don’t know what does. Strap in for winter folks, cause it’s gonna be a long one.
Today marks two years since I relocated to the glorious Garden State in what will forever be remembered as the most traumatic moving experience of my life. As you might recall, I made ambitious bucket lists (yes, that’s right, plural) when I first moved here to really adventure it up and explore my new home state. After recapping what I accomplished in my first year, I decided to keep up the tradish. Mostly because I’ve done more in this state than half the people who’ve lived here their whole lives and also because I want to Jersey salute the haters who thought I’d never last here. I’m still standing, baby! And guess what? I don’t think I’m going to die every time I drive on the parkway anymore. In fact, I get pissy with out of staters who think it’s acceptable to go under 80 in the left lane. MAMA, I’VE MADE IT! Here’s what I accomplished this past year as I settled in and started to put down roots in the ole dirrty jerze. (I was told by a native New Jerseyan that no one from here uses that phrase and it’s embarrassing but then this individual got that exact phrase permanently inked on their body so I’m guessing they’re not a reliable source for what is and is not cool to say therefore I’m gonna keep saying it, so HA.)
Bar A (Lake Como) If you’ll recall I had my big J.Shore night out planned upon publish date of last year’s blog. I picked a Thursday night in late August, recruited my college gal pal, and went ahead and took a sick day in advance off for Friday anticipating a Gnarls Barkley hangover. After much polling of my dog park crew and co-workers, I decided that I was far too old to try to Beat the Clock at Bar A, but a little Thirsty Thursday seemed more approps. Well as it turns out, it was approps…for a nursing home. After surveying the crowd upon entry and seeing 4 olds dancing to a live band who didn’t play one cover that I recognized, I assured myself and my friend that we were just early. We sure weren’t! By 10pm the place was still crickets and it was officially embarrassing to be there. I asked the tween employees on the way out why their bar sucks so hard and they replied, “you come on a Tuesday for Beat the Clock, or you come on a Saturday, and that’s it.” Ope, ok! We then asked for a recommendation of a bar that might cater to the elder millennial crowd who didn’t want to hit up a theme night and fist pump our faces off at D’Jais and were redirected to Joe’s, which was indeed our target demo. Unfortunately I did not get to shout CABS ARE HEA and I certainly didn’t need a day to recover like I so boldly anticipated. But even more mortifying than that, I was so excited to break free for my first night on the town in a whole year that I bought a new top from where the youths shop and went all out thinking I might snatch myself a huz at Bar A. YOIKES. If I had recalled the sound advice from the great philosopher Ronald Ortiz-Magro when he so astutely said, “Never fall in love at the Jersey Shore. Never, ever, ever.” I probably wouldn’t have gone so hard in the paint.
Citizens Bank Park (Philadelphia) I kicked things off in my first year by finally checking Citi Field off the ballpark list and then that’s when I really popped off with my need to tour all the ballparks in America. I realized Philly was the next closest one I hadn’t been to yet and then from there it spiraled to spring training in Florida and a trip to Chicago for Wrigley. The ballpark journey continues with my dad and has been a great source of fun these past couple of years, but I’ll tell you what wasn’t fun… waiting a solid 25 mins in line to finally order a game day dawg at the home of the Phillies and paying $17.25 for this charred monstrosity:
CBP was nice (they had a whole ass rock climbing wall for kids) but I’ll never get the taste of that trash ass wiener out of my mouth for as long as I live.
Whale Watching (Belmar) If you’re a friend of the program you know how excited I was for this excursion and what a giant letdown it was. If you didn’t already hear me tell this story 6,000 times, read it here. I’d rather die than go whale watching again and in fact I saw a crew of whales casj flopping in the surf one random October morning and that experience was a zillion times better and it was F-R-E-E.
Jersey Shore House Tour (Seaside Heights) I’m trying not to be super repetitive because I’ve been known to blab about my many adventures on here a lot, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention my viz to the iconic shore store and house. It’s important to reveal that I did visit the shore store in its heyday (2010) when I fully believed I’d walk in and The Sitch would be hand-pressing my tee. What happened instead was a hungover kid sold me a “Come At Me Bro” pinny, asked me if I wanted to customize it with my name and conveniently forgot to mention they charge per letter. Guess how much “Giantomasi” cost? So much that I still have that pinny in my dresser and refuse to throw it out because of how much I overpaid for it. I figure it’ll come in handy when douche-wear becomes trendy again. Unfortunately, back in that time, tours weren’t given of the house because they were living there. History was still in the making. I had wanted to reserve the tour for someone who would appreciate it as much as I do, and then I remembered I barely have any friends. So I waited until the off season and I booked it down to Seaside on a Friday to buy a onesie for a little meatball who was yet to be born and I got so overwhelmed in the store that an employee took pity on me and then talked me into a solo tour. No spoilers but his version of the tour included pointing out where Snooki peed her pants whilst drunk and asking me if I wanted to pose in Pauly and Vinny’s beds. I declined. I did accept every other photo opp and my biggest takeaway was that I couldn’t believe they lived in this rundown house with tiny bedrooms and bathrooms for as long as they did, but they sure are cashing in now. Also not to brag but Danny said “sup homie” to me while I lurked for far too long circling the store so I’m pretty much in.
Smush Room
See a Comedian at The Stress Factory (New Brunswick) I knew The Stress Factory was legit enough to get big names so I was quick to add this to my list, and even quicker to jump on the first comedian that I wanted to see (John Crist…not so much a big name.) I dragged a friend and her boyfriend who weren’t that into comedy, which always makes for a good time and definitely isn’t stressful at all. The good news is, I liked the comedian and it was a fun area and a club I’d definitely go back to if I had more friends who liked stand up comedy. Bonus: I got to fondle this weird Einstein statue in NB after perhaps being over-served.
Sandy Hook Lighthouse (Sandy Hook) Moving towards the sea has transformed me into a real lighthouse freak. Love a good phallic tower with a light at the top and will probably continue to visit as many as I can. Last fall I celebrated that old rapey white guy Christopher Columbus with a day trip to selfie it up with the oldest operating lighthouse in America. Felt right to peep something from the 1700’s on a day that glorified a man getting lost and then violently taking over the land he stumbled upon anyway. Classic Columbus. Anyway, there was nothing really to report about this lighthouse other than it was old AF. Forever trying to include my BFF Charlee girl in my adventures, I thought it would be swell to drive her an hour to Sandy Hook and that was a huge mistake on my part. I couldn’t figure out where the beach was, then tried to take her for a walk through the woods, locked eyes with a big ass deer and bootscooted right back outta there. When we finally found the beach, Charlee didn’t want to sit still and wrapped herself around my chair trying to strangle me with her leash. We left shortly thereafter but not before she took a steaming dump and I found out that Sandy Hook is a trash-can free beach and I had to drive home with her bagged shit stinking up the car. Can’t say I would recommend. (PS if a beach overlooks the NYC skyline, I’m immediately grossed out. I don’t care if that’s bougie but you can’t tell me water that close to a giant polluted city isn’t disgusting.)
Not a fan of Sandy Hook
Sea Bright Fall was aflush with paid holidays for ya girl and I made a point to bop somewhere new each time I had a day off. Election day brought me back to Sandy Hook for a bike ride (one that was much windier and colder than I had ever anticipated) and so I rewarded myself with a fancy lunch for 1 at the Rum Runner and traipsing through Sea Bright. The food was an absolute delight and the view of the water was perfect but I still haven’t gotten past the “everyone is watching you eat by yourself like a loser” insecurity and reading a book didn’t seem to help. Also this one lunch set me back a cool $50 so I decided it probably wasn’t worth it to go bankrupt for a bowl of soup and a glass of wine ever again. Sea Bright is cute as heck tho.
Yappy Hour at The Wonder Bar (Asbury Park) The minute I got a dog, I started hearing about the infamous yappy hour where humans get boozy while their dogs run around. Nervous to let Chuckletini loose in a bar patio, I decided to wait until late October to take her for the first time so it wouldn’t be crowded. I went solo imagining this would be the perfect environment for a single dog parents meet-cute. As I scooched my chair closer to a cute guy under the guise that I wanted to sit in the sun, he scooted away and our love story was over before it even began.
Charlee was timid at first and then seemed to have a good time so the next warm day I suggested a friend from the dog park join us. Well it seems Charlee got a little too comfy for her second rodeo, shouted bye mom and left me in a cloud of dust as soon as we walked in. What a teenager. If you know, teenagers were to run full speed in circles and hop up on picnic tables where people have drinks after splashing in the pool. To say she was cutting loose would be an understatement. Unfortunately, the dog bouncers were not appreciative of her giving drunk in the club at 4am vibez. She got a couple of warnings and then they told me to leash her up, to which I said do not punish me for my child’s actions. We left. And the very next day Wonder Bar posted this:
It’s a good thing Charlee’s not on IG cause she would not stand for being subtweeted like this. Here’s an idea, if you’re going to have a place designated for dogs to play in, maybe put a sign out front that only old and fat dogs are allowed. Because RUNNING IS WHAT DOGS DO WHEN THEY’RE OFF LEASH PLAYING. I could bring Charlee to a beach for 5 hours of running and then bring her to this bar and she’d see all the new dogs and a pool to dunk in and she’d be recharged and ready to go for round two. Cause she’s A DOG. If I wanted to be Tom Petty I could’ve commented that my dog got humped every 5 minutes while she was there but no one was stepping in to stop that. #VictimBlaming. Needless to say, we have not been back. The dog beach is less judgey.
Barnegat Lighthouse + Chicken or the Egg + Ship Bottom Brewery (LBI) What do you do when it’s 75 degrees in November? You go to an island that is typically a mob scene of bennies in the summer and live it up for the day with 0 crowds in complete denial that it’s about to be winter. My original calling for LBI was to climb Barnegat Lighthouse, but as soon as I moved here it closed for renovations and didn’t open up until Spring. Itching to fill the last beautiful day before my seasonal depresh turned all the way up, I decided it was worth the visit anyway and I’d circle back for the climb (which I did, recapped further down the list.) I recruited my ex-boyf to join me on this trip and that was the last time I saw him. He sleeps with the fish in Surf City now. Juuuust kidding, we had a bomb.com day of eating, drinking, and beeboppin around all different parts of LBI and tale as old as time, he decided a few days later that he never wanted to see my mug or talk to me ever again. Guess some guys just can’t handle a chick who can wear a plaid skirt that just barely zips and still manage to put away chicken wings and poutine at an alarming speed.
Chegg was as legit as everyone says it is and the ONLY wangz I’ve enjoyed in Jersey. I’ve sampled many a chicken wang since I moved here and they’ve all been saucy, soggy garbage, except for Chegg. Exxtra crispy just like mama likes ’em. I also fawned over a row of pastel townhouses in Beach Haven and manifested living there one day, got buzz lightyear at Ship Bottom Brewery and like always, made a merch purchase whilst under the influence. But I’d have to say the highlight of my day was driving past this little boutique covered in mosaics (Firefly Gallery in Surf City) and whipping the car over so I could photograph every inch of it. I went in and bought a cute seashell trinket and learned that the shop owner commissioned artist Isaiah Zagar from Philly to conduct a workshop in mosaics and what resulted was this beaut of a building that so many people had a hand in creating. I could’ve looked at it all day it was so cool and there was so much to see. Hopefully I’ll be able to do a day trip to Philly sometime this year and check out all of the mosaic art there, obviously with a cheesesteak in each meaty paw.
Life Changing Steak in Red Bank Look, it could’ve been the fact that this was my first meal post-colonoscopy and everything hits different when your intestines have just been wrung out like a sopping wet towel but I suspect Buona Sera lives up to the hype. It even earned a revisit for my birthday dinner with my godparents who are steakhouse connoisseurs. More importantly, after hearing all about how Red Bank is like the Saratoga Springs of NJ (or the closest to it) I’m happy to report I’ve made more than a few trips there now. It’s a cute downtown area with shopping, restaurants and bars but as my TogaTown peeps know, nothing will ever compare. (Also very cutely decorated for Christmas, shoutout to my dad for not only driving 10 hours for my butthole procedure but putting up with me making him pose in front of Christmas lights too.)
Christmas in NY & AC I make it my life’s mission to squeeze all of the Christmas joy out of the VERY short window that we’re allotted between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Last year I spent over $100 on a Christmas tree (the tree farms of Colt’s Neck bent me RIGHT over) but it was worth every penny to stare at that twinkly number in my living room and sniff its pine needles all month long. So if there’s a tree to be seen, or decorations to be appreciated you know I’ll be there. This Christmas I FINALLY got to Rockefeller and spazzed my face off with holiday sensory overload but before that I was in AC for a work trip and posed in front of every tree I could feast my eyes on. I also tried to dabble in a pop-up Christmas themed bar but apparently no one was working there the one night I was in town. Go figure. Didn’t stop me from sitting in Santa’s sleigh for the gram.
Playa Bowls I can’t go anywhere near the ocean without stumbling upon a Playa Bowls so I knew I’d have to try one at least once. And folks, once was enough. For a whopping $14 I got the Nutella Acai Bowl (recommended as the most popular for a n00b like me to try.) It truly felt like a chore to eat. In fact, as much as it pains me to throw away money, I didn’t even finish it because my mouth was so tired from crunching granola with the consistency of lug nuts while getting brain freeze. Also, I was still hungry after all that.
Power Bottom Comedy Show (Asbury Park) I’m constantly trolling social looking for a new fun activity to do and I stumbled upon Asbury Park’s own comedy scene via IG. On the last Thursday of every month, there’s a comedy show featuring local talent, a more well-known “headliner,” and cash prizes. I happen to love cash and laughing, so I dragged my mom who was in town to a show. We had no clue what to expect but showing up stupid early because they threatened seats would run out and being placed DIRECTLY in front of the stage was a hot start. What then commenced was so much amateur comedy that my mom turned to me at one point with eyes wide and whispered, “Is this it? Is this the whole show?” I assured her that there was a main act and he had been on the Tonight Show, then I snuck to the bathroom and double checked. Not only do I not recommend you bring your mom to a show where the emcee’s line of jokes circled graphic abortion, sex, and sex for drugs all while she makes eye contact with you but it’s also a terrible idea to sit the two people who hate attention the most in touching distance of the stage. When the guy who gets paid to tell jokes finally made it up there what felt like 6 hours later, he decided to do some light crowd work and he started with us. After asking us basic getting to know you questions and getting stuttered one word answers with wides eyes of terror, I think he realized it was best if he didn’t make two grown women piss their pants and pick on someone else instead. Thx for the memories, Power Bottom, it was a bonding mother/daughter experience but we will not be back. Also thank you mom, for never asking what a power bottom is.
Is this not the most dive bar bathroom you’ve ever seen?
Broad Street Diner (Keyport) Jersey’s chock full of diners and this one was highlighted in an NJ.com article of top spots so I took their word for it and drove out of the way for my first diner experience since moving here. I was underwhelmed at best. Food was nothing crazy, atmosphere was somewhat chaotic and I got the sense from the waitress that if I lingered for one more second past finishing my meal, she’d dropkick me right out of there. It was also the type of diner that is the width of a sidecar and I felt like a bull in a china shop. I’m not a particularly wide woman, I’m draggin a wagon but it’s mostly tucked behind me, and I had to turn sideways to walk toward my table so I didn’t inadvertently knock someone’s coffee into their omelette with my asshole. Not pleasant. I did want to take a selfie with the Elvis statue out front (because of course) but it was only my third time hanging out with the person I was with and it felt too soon for my annoying over-documentation side to come out and play. Open to suggestions on what diner I should hit next…only ones that can accommodate my Big Bertha width, pls.
Liquor Store Bar I will explain this New Jersey phenomenon as simply as I can to all of my fellow NY’ers. There’s many liquor stores in shopping plazas that are also bars. You walk into the liquor store and it looks like your average small corner liquor store with jacked up wine prices and then you keep walking and BAM, dive bar. Having one in the plaza across from my apartment and seeing the type of clientele that frequent said boozy combo, I never intended to make it my regular hang. But then, after joining a friend at a brewery and her cousin swearing that there was a dece liquor store bar around the corner, I was down to clown. As it turns out, she wasn’t wrong. It was a very normal bar and even had live music. And everyone there appeared to have all of their teeth intact, so I’d say it was a great success.
Cherry Blossoms at Branch Brook Park (Newark) This was recommended to me by several people who saw how much I salivate for bloomz. Many comparisons were made between this park and the blossoms in D.C. I figured it would be a mob scene, but as mother nature goes, you get a real limited window for peak bloom szn. Not having plans for Easter this year, I figured it would be the perfect place of worship for Chucks and I. So did everyone else in New Jersey. First of all, I really didn’t know what I was getting myself into travel-wise. I checked the website 100 times and followed the official instagram account and they very much made it seem like there was ample public parking lots. LIARS. Not only is this park dropped in the middle of downtown sketchtastic Newark, but it has absolutely no parking. It took me over an hour to get there (with Charlee panting in the backseat wondering what the hell I signed her up for) and then I sat in standstill traffic for another 30-45 inching around the park looking for any morsel of parking. Finally on the second rotation I was able to slide into a spot, get Charlee out and see that there were HORDES of people here.
This was truly my nightmare. It was comparable to the crowds at Rockefeller for the tree except there was no Christmas magic. People hogged entire trees for photoshoots, plucking flowers and playing with the branches, there were tripods and selfies sticks and girlies dressed in their Easter best and anytime I tried to roll up on a tree and take a photo, I had unwanted strangers in the background or someone hovering to push me out of the way. I walked for about 10 mins then found a clearing for Charlee and I to sit on a blanket so she could have water and not be dragged through crowds with no room to take a beat. So naturally our little moment of peace had to be ruined by a guy dressed as a clown with white mullet hair, who stood directly on top of us and blew up balloons. After the third balloon that popped causing Charlee to launch into my lap, I gave this creepmaster a look that told him I would tie his limbs up like the balloon animals he sucked at making if he didn’t get the hell away from me. And thankfully he picked up what I was putting down and got to steppin.
I snapped as many bloom glam shots of my child as I could and then when I thought I might actually murder someone, I decided to call it and drive back through the hellscape that is Newark (the amount of times someone either stopped in the middle of the road and got out of their car or backed out of a driveway onto me were enough to make me never drive there again.) Word to the wise, unless you have the sharpest of elbows and a real ‘fuck around and find out’ ‘tude, don’t go to Branch Brook Park in the spring. Also, def don’t bring your dog. (Sorry, Charlee.)
Freehold AKA “Little NYC” I’d meant to make it on over to downtown Freehold in my first year, mostly because it’s so close and also because one of the top espresso martinis on my list was there. But as you’ll recall in last year’s blog, most restaurant or bar items remained unchecked because one must have compadres to do that with and I’m somewhat lacking in that department. But this year, I made my way out to Moore’s Tavern on a Friday night for my fave 90’s cover band aptly called Nine Deeze Nite and I truly questioned what kind of crowd lived in Freehold. In one night I saw the whole spectrum. From hood girls rocking Jordans to a woman wearing a plaid overall skirt and yellow crocs to bucket hats to a gentleman the height of a jockey wearing a wife beater, tight jeans, boots and the LARGEST belt buckle I’ve ever seen. It wast truly comical. I could’ve stood there all night and open-mouth stared at the creatures that surrounded me but they took that as an invite to speak to me and obviously that wasn’t going to fly.
A couple months later, I went to get my annual blonding, also in Freehold, and my stylist was telling me the different restaurants or bars I could check out that are more worthy than Moore’s and her young twenties associate added that downtown Freehold was like a little New York. And I was off to the races. This one off-handed comment has created an ongoing bit for me and I don’t think this girl even knows how much joy she brought to my life. To be fair, she quickly admitted that she hadn’t been to NY and my stylist told me how wildly inaccurate this comparison was. But I knew I needed to get my peepers on Downtown Freehold, STAT.
As I drove in to meet my friend for some birthday cocktails, she texted me asking if I could see the skyline yet. Then she grabbed a seat at the bar and told me she was sitting with a view of the Freedom Tower. On my walk down an alley to meet her, I found this mural and nearly peed my pants from laughing so hard. Please enjoy what I think was meant to be an ode to famous singers (perhaps that’s a Kurt Cobain on the mic?) but all I can see is that weirdly large baby with an adult face being held by a mom that looks like she would topple over with the disproportionate size of this monster. The culture! The arts! The fine dining! Some people call it the concrete jungle where dreams are made of, but us locals just call it Freehold, baby.
Fox Hollow Winery (Holmdel) I haven’t made it to as many wineries as I initially hoped I would, but I treated my mom to a day at Fox Hollow on Mother’s Day and boy, what a delight that place is. They had several rosรฉ options, a spacious patio, and live music. The only downer was that there were only portapotties available so obviously I held it because I’d rather give myself a UTI than go in one of those hot plastic stinkboxes. My mom and I channeled Joan and Melissa Rivers and situated ourselves right near the walkway to the main building so we had a prime view of everyone’s fashion choices. We should’ve had our own podcast with the color commentary that was flying. To be fair, if you wear a sleeveless khaki dress with trench coat style buttons and a collar, paired with over the knee black winter boots on an 80 degree day, you deserve to be serenaded with the Inspector Gadget theme song. But anyway, solid winery, would definitely go back, might suggest they never hire that singer again as his voice was terrible and he told people to submit requests then promptly said he didn’t know every single request he was given.
Proof that we looked cute, cause obv you can’t judge others outfits unless yours are on point.
“Two States at Once” in (Lambertville, NJ & New Hope, PA) + Peddlers Village If you’re noticing a theme this year it is: “not worth the hype.” When I was looking for a nice day trip to do on my birthday, several people mentioned Lambertville & New Hope. It’s a town in New Jersey, and a town in Pennsylvania and there’s a bridge you can walk over connecting the two and pointing out where the state line is so you can do the classic “two places at once” photo opp that A Walk To Remember romanticized for bucket lists everywhere. My parents and I headed down in the morning (another hour plus drive) and guess what?! Nothing was open. Ghostown, USA. We walked over the bridge, took a zillion photos, heard a couple store owners say that this town doesn’t wake up until around noon, and left. To be fair, even if the stores were open, both of these towns were Suckville, USA. Even Little NY aka Freehold had more to offer than a couple of antique shops mixed in with old lady fashion stores and a very weird sex shop next to an even weirder shop called The Creeper Gallery. That’s it. I just summed up that day trip way better than anyone else did for me. If you want to stand in PA and NJ at the same time, do it up. Otherwise, don’t fall for it. Since we had already made the trip, we scooted over to Peddler’s Village for more old lady/jerky/popcorn shops and lunch. I am glad we went there because I bought an overpriced duster that a bunch of old women convinced me I looked like Cindy Crawford in and I’m eternally grateful because I’m obsessed with that article of clothing and have worn it no less than 100 times this summer. It also annoys my sister beyond belief which makes it even better. S/O Sunflowers at Peddlers Village for my main character energy duster that floats in the breeze and my sunflower necklace.
Continued Quest for Best Espresso Martini in NJ As always, the grind never stops (literally) to find New Jersey’s best espresso martini. My highest score this year was an 8.6 for the aforementioned Buona Sera in Red Bank. I continued to order a spressy at every establishment that will make one and as you can see by my list, there’s still notable spots to hit, and more being added regularly. For those who are new to my rating system, I’ll remind you that much like Whose Line Is it Anyway, it’s a game where everything is made up and the points don’t matter. If I get a nice bartender, score goes up, if there are an incorrect number of beans, score takes a dive, if I’m already drunk, well it could really go either way. One thing I can say for sure is that you should NEVER and I mean NEVER get the espresso martini flight at Asbury Ale House. I can quite literally still taste the crusty old strawberry creamsaver they dropped in the chocolate milk Bailey’s shooter they tried to pass off as a martini. BARF ALL OVER ME.
Ria MarWatermarkThe Iron WhaleHarrah’sHard RockAsbury Ale House
Continued Quest for Cool Coffee Shop to write in like a main character in a movie This year I was really seeking that kewl girl writer who is inspired by the crowd in an aesthetically pleasing coffee shop and writes a best-selling novel while sipping an overpriced cold brew vibe. I checked out Offshore Coffee Co in Long Branch where I spent 90% of my time there trying to snag an artsy shot of the cool neon sign behind me without getting caught and looking like a loser. Coffee Surf Co in Belmar, which I didn’t realize was just a Playa Bowls with a coffee tap in it. And Shore Pour in Sea Girt, which was my favorite based on friendly staff who tossed me compliments and a super comfy coastal blue armchair that faced out to the street for prime people watching. Unfortunately, I knocked my cold brew over on said armchair and had to skeedaddle before anyone noticed. Even though my trashy Dunks-lovin ass was clearly not meant for a bougie coffee shop, this will not stop me from trying to be a trendy hipster.
Yellowcard at the Stone Pony Summer Stage(Asbury Park) Thirteen year old Ju was OBSESSED with Yellowcard. I knew their album Ocean Avenue front to back and watched their concert DVD on repeat. When it went missing (probably because my parents hid it) I was BESIDE myself. I’ll never forget trying to plead a case for me to see them live and my dad asking if he could watch a little of the concert DVD to see what the show was like. Welp, there was a section where they parted the crowd down the middle and told each side to run at the other side as fast as they could. Den was understandably out on having his youngest child trampled to death just because she loved the sound of a violinist in a punk rock band. Natch, I jumped at the chance to catch their Ocean Avenue revival tour this summer, very comfortably from a rooftop overlooking the show. Good news: they still slap, I didn’t have to be moshed around to enjoy it, and hearing Ocean Avenue on Ocean Avenue was THE stuff.
Free Pizza at Johnny Mac’s (Asbury Park) Johnny Mac’s is a dive bar I went to in my first year when I did the trials and tribs of online new friend meetups and at the time they were doing a speed dating night, which was equally as mortifying as my reason for being there. JMac’s claim to fame is that you get a free personal pizza with purchase of a drink. I stumbled back into this bar in March of this year as the second to last stop on my very first marathon of drinking night out in Jersey and it was packed with youths and I got a water and left scream-singing Taylor Swift. Probably could’ve used that pizza but it completely slipped my booze-soaked brain. HOW-EV-ER, I ran it back with my second impromptu AP bar crawl when my sister was here this summer and I DID remember the free ‘za and ooh baby did that come in clutch. Why you ask? Because the state of New Jersey doesn’t want to feed you while you’re drunk. Bars close early AF and there isn’t a pizza joint in sight and honestly that should be illegal, especially for a state that prides themselves on their pies. So shout out to JMac’s for doing it right. Nothing soaks up a night of spressy marts and cukes vodka like a hot and cheesy treat that you don’t have to share. I was so invested in shoving it in my pie-hole that a girl 1 billion times drunker than me locked eyes with me and goes “are you ok?” What a humbling moment.
Brunch and gallivanting in Hoboken I had heard of Hoboken all throughout my college years as the mecca of post-grad living. Full of bars and adjacent to the city, but less expensive, it was a rite of passage for my fellow Marist grads to bunk up in Hoboken and try on adulting for size. Obviously, I’m a little late to the party to pretend I have a carefree city lifestyle, but I was more than happy to spend a day there trolling around and pretending. The cherry on top is that I got to do it with my college TV production girlies as we reminisced on the good ole days when we would film each other fighting with lightsabers for an actual grade. We started with brunch at City Bistro which had a flower walkway and wall that seemed to be put there just for me to fawn over, then busted into an open house where I criticized every aspect of this million dollar gem as if I have any business doing so, and then hit up the pier for an overpriced cocktail and a billion tourist trap photo opps that I happily fell right into. Great first impression of a city. It’s a much smaller and more appealing version of NYC with greenery and adorbs brownstones and almost every storefront had some sort of floral decor, which I could barely contain my boner for. In another lifetime I definitely would’ve kicked it there in my youth but I’ll settle for exploring it on day trips.
Climb Ole Barney(LBI) I separated this out because my type A ass wanted to list my events in chronological order, and also this was a completely different viz so no sense in grouping the two togets. I’ve never been a hiker but for whatever reason I’m down to climb a bunch of stairs for a scenic view. Seems pretty stupid but it’s the life that I’ve chosen. On my last week before the 2 year anni, I kicked it into high gear going to LBI on a Tuesday and Margate on a Thursday to climb some shit. And whoa buddy, these 217 steps were a harsh reminder of how out of shape I truly am. Also, not to be critical but for a place that was just closed for renovations for almost a year, one would think they’d find a way to make the narrow spiral stairs into a friendlier two-way traffic sitch. Ain’t nothin worse than huffin and puffin your way up, watching your feet the whole time so your jelly legs don’t send you stumblin backwards only to feel a presence on top of you and realize it’s a whole human trying to come down at the same time. Lots of “ope, sorry’s” and flattening against a curved railing whilst wheezing and having a strangers arm hair tickle my bare skin. But other than that? What a rewarding view! Wish I could’ve popped open a chair and read my book up there to really make that calf grind worth it.
After stomping my shaky legs down and out I thought I’d check out Viking Village known for shops and seafood and when the GPS dropped me at what looked like a private boating slip, I kept on driving. Ain’t nobody got time for that. I did, however, have time to treat my stems to a relaxing day at the beach followed by a bike ride into town checking out all of the cute little boutiques (where store owners talked in not-so-hushed tones about how Kevin Jonas was just there) and ended the day with a twist on a cone like our dear Lord intended. Despite the fact that I didn’t find a public bathroom all day long and almost wet my seat on the drive back, cruising around LBI reaffirmed my lifelong belief that I belong in a beach town. (And coincidentally was a perfect way to celebrate the first day of “salt air & the rust on your door” month.)
Lucy the Elephant(Margate City) I don’t think anything on my bucket list has been as polarizing as Lucy. She was added as soon as I moved here and realized I was merely an hour away from a national historical landmark. But I quickly realized whenever I brought her up with New Jerseyans the reaction was either what the hell is that or I’ve heard of it, sounds dumb. YOU UNCULTURED SWINE. So after many months of floating a Lucy viz out to innocent bystanders and not getting any bites, I figured I’d force my niece to do it when she came to visit. Well she’s visited three times and we’ve managed to push Lucy off the list of activities all three times. So finally I said ENOUGH IS ENOUGH I BETTER GET INSIDE THIS ELEPHANT’S BELLY IMMEDIATELY and I called out sick with a severe case of elephant fever and got that shit done myself. If I’ve learned one thing about wanting to explore and do all of these things it’s that I can’t rely on anyone else to be interested or actually make a plan to join me, so solo is usually how I operate. Although may I add that 100% of the time I’d enjoy each of these activities more with a partner in crime, and I’d certainly appreciate not having to rely on strangers to take my photos. Lookin at you family who declined my offer to take your photo which was OBVIOUSLY code for “take mine too” and also at you, old lady who I then circled back to after a respectable amount of time and the grand finale was a picture that cut out half of Lucy. Obviously asking people to be my personal paparazzi is embarrassing as hell. I might have to start traveling with a tripod.
Anyway, back to my bae Lucy. I once again did ample research and nowhere in my readings did it say that I’d be charged a separate toll to get in and out of Margate City that could only be paid by cash (not EZPass.) That $2.25 entry fee set the tone for this day trip of gettin the treatment. There were about 4 parking spots at Lucy’s feet, kinda slim pickins for a self-proclaimed “roadside attraction”, so I had to do laps searching for a spot and when I found one it had a two hour time limit. Then taking the tour of Lucy cost $9 (round up to donate of course!) then I bought a stupid $6 magnet (round up again) because I’m a sucker for a souv. Then I bought a $16 belgian waffle sundae because I was hungry and deserved a lil treat. TAKE ALL MY MONEY, MARGATE! But cheapskate rant aside, Lucy is cool as hell. The tour, not so much. They jammed way too many people (mostly kids, probably should’ve rented one for the day to look less like a creep as I was the only adult not accompanied by a child) up a narrow spiral set of stairs into Lucy’s belly, where they flipped on a 7 minute video circa 1998, substitute style. Kinda a racket to make people think they’re getting a special tour when really you’re just paying for the money shot–atop Lucy’s “howdah” overlooking the ocean. That’s the word for her basket, that’s 9 bucks worth of education there, BB’s. I also learned that Lucy is older than both the Eiffel Tower and the Statue of Liberty, and she was a speakeasy during prohibition #Rebel. She is truly the world’s greatest elephant and all y’all who laughed at me wanting to go MISSED OUT on her magic so I hope Lucy’s creepy eyes that watch the ocean haunt your dreams at night.
Sometimes you just gotta drive an hour and climb inside an elephant. NJBucketList LucytheElephant NationalLandmark JerseyShore beatouristinyourownstate
I may never get over that there are pizza chains calls Tony Boloney’s and Johnny Pepperoni here. Way to lean into the stereotype, youse guys.
Staten Island FerryHawks Game Can’t say I ever had catching a Staten Island FerryHawks game on the list but I AM in my baseball era and checking out what is commonly referred to as the Staten Island dump seemed like promising people watching at the very least. What I didn’t realize is that I’d get a free tee, a front row seat to a game that overlooked the city skyline next to a dugout full of baseball babes, AND be entertained by half of the group I was with taking part in a balloon-popping game on the field between innings. What a solid first time as a Ferryhawks fangirl! If there’s one thing you can count on from me (other than googling every player that I think is a babe soda and finding out their age and height) it’s taking way too serious artsy photos when not one person asked me to do so. Pls enjoy me moonlighting as Ansel Adams in between selfies with a wiener hanging out of my mouth. Next time I grace SI with my presence, you bet your bottom dollar I’m taking a ride on that ferry!
That’s all she wrote (she says as if she didn’t just write 100 pages worth of words.) I still have many hot spots waiting to be checked off my NJ Bucket List (and more than a few lukewarm spots that I can’t seem to recruit a buddy for), but the good news is, I’m not leaving anytime soon because switching states is a real bitch oh and also, I finally got my beach condo so I’m gonna hold onto that sucker for dear life. I’m ready to embark on year 3 of touristing my face off every chance I get so follow along for more adventures of The Jersey Ju! Last year I asked if I had earned the right to call myself a Jersey Girl yet (how Upstate of me to ask permission), but now I don’t really care if I’ve earned it or not, which ironically makes me fit in here most of all. I’m a Jersey Girl, bitch.
*Unless of course one of those scary North Jersey girliecats tries to throw hands with me, then I’m obviously just visiting from humble little cowpoke Upstate NY and I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it. Love you, bye.
If you feel like you just read a published piece with this same title, you’re not wrong. If you didn’t read it, WHY AREN’T YOU SUPPORTING MY ART?!Here’s the version that got published in Greener Pastures Magazine. I wrote the first draft of this piece in November of 2022 full of rage after yet another stressful mid-week shopping experience. As I circled the parking lot for a spot and got cornered in aisles by people who didn’t learn that 6 ft of space should be the norm, I thought to myself, WHY IS NO ONE AT WORK RIGHT NOW?! This being my first hybrid job, I quickly discovered how much more peaceful it is to shop in the middle of a Monday. Unfortunately, once everyone else also had this revelation, going out any day, at any time, turned into my worst nightmare. Anyway, fueled by my hate-fire for fellow WFH shoppers, I blasted out a draft, rant-style. Not really knowing a ton of comedy writers willing to edit, I tossed it over to my dad who made some suggestions. I submitted that version to the three publications I typically submit to and they all rejected it. I simmered on it for 6-8 months, took a humor writing class that made me drown in imposter syndrome thinking I have no business calling myself a writer, and finally resurfaced this number in a feedback group that came out of the aforementioned class that made me spiral. The general consensus was that I needed to pick an angle to make it funnier rather than just bitching about crowded stores. I get it, airing grievances isn’t really a refined form of writing.
But guess what? I LOVE complaining and I have a sneaky suspicion that my followers will get a kick out of the original piece and maybe find it more relatable. So here it is! This is what happens when you get super attached to a piece and everyone rejects it…you publish it yourself because you have a website and there are no rules when you pay WordPress an annual fee for a public platform, so HA. Also, this is a fun way to show y’all that these cute lil published pieces that I spam all over my socials sometimes go through 1 zillion versions and I toil over them for months. What a fun hobby I’ve chosen! In fact, I’ve been sitting on a piece for almost 2 full years now that I’m dragging my feet to get up to snuff. Maybe one day you’ll get to read that! (PS If you notice some jokes are repeated in both the published Scooter Braun version and the self-published Taylor’s Version, no you didn’t.)
Hey There,
I know that you have the best intentions. Youโre probably just telling everyone that youโre strengthening our ever-crumbling economy by scooping up all the Rae Dunn kitchen utensils the second they hit the floor in this suburban T.J. Maxx on a Wednesday. However, youโre really cramping my style. Iโm not about to point out the fact that your boss has noticed your Microsoft Teams icon has been idle for the past three hours, because mine has mysteriously been the same. We can play it off like some worldwide glitch if you want. But Iโll only agree to play along if you immediately stop running errands on workdays and go home.
Oh, I get it, the horrifying pandemic that shut down the world and plagued everyone with terror and illness for two years also ushered in one of the greatest revelations of the modern era: nobody actually *wants* to work. Everyone realized that there was no use in slogging in a daily commute to sit in a corporate jail cell for 8 hours doing busy work and having weekly check-ins on the progress of that busy work all while smelling the leftover scallops Janice microwaved for lunch. Those days were a real hellscape. But I gotta tell you, nothing compares to the fiery bowels of showing up to Wegmans at 10AM on a Tuesday and battling Sunday-before-Thanksgiving like crowds. If I pull my cart over to collect myself and get bumped into one more time because Iโm blocking the romaine lettuce, I might just WANT to be stuck in the office doing nothing. And thatโs a very slippery slope, my friend.
Iโm not suggesting that you go back to a traditional workday. (At least Iโm not suggesting that for me.) Letโs not be ridiculous. I just think there must be a better solution here where I donโt feel a strangerโs breath on my neck while Iโm buying myself a new mug for my home โofficeโ that reads โBoss Babeโ. Perhaps a new plan that doesnโt subject my ears to your personal phone call on speakerphone about your recent bikini wax while Iโm testing out squeak-toys for my dog. Now hear me out, what if there were a few designated hours at my top five stores each day of the week where Iโm allowed to shop by myself, uninterrupted! I mean, we did it for the olds during Covid, why canโt we do it for the sensible Millennial woman who knows how to juggle a Zoom call and her deepest desire to spend money on things she doesnโt need. A true Modern American Icon.
Sure, I can see how this could be coming off a scooch hypocritical and selfish, but my therapist (another Modern American Icon) IS always telling me I need to learn how to advocate for myself. So you know what? I deserve to shop during the week! It is my given right to collect a full salary with pension and benefits as I sip a Starbs refresher and lazily browse Bullseyeโs playground for the latest seasonal deals. Because thatโs what this country was built on, right? Life, liberty, and the pursuit of buying myself a lil treat with Kohlโs Cash while I โkeep an eye on my email.โ NONE of these blissful workday moments include someone like YOU starting on the opposite side of the clothes rack rabidly flicking hangers, inching closer and closer to me hoping Iโm chicken enough to flee the aisle. Or reaching around me to grab the last pair of wine-themed pajamas in the Aldi bonus aisle. I mean, I canโt even find a parking spot at the Dollar General these days. What has the world come to? DOES ANYONE HAVE A JOB ANYMORE?! The drive-thru line at my local Dunkinโ would suggest โNO.โ
Anyway, I gotta run, my boss just called and overheard the Costco register beeps and I canโt pass it off as my downstairs neighbors role playing as cashier and customer again. So, itโs settled. Iโll take Monday through Friday for stress-free store sauntering, and you all can take Saturdays and Sundays with the rest of those people who actually work. Hope you have sharp elbows, youโll need them, I heard those weekend crowds are ROUGH!
Warm Regards,
A Boundary-Pushing Employee Who Enjoys (and Demands) A Quiet Shopping Atmosphere
I have a real obsession with matching. Some may call it unhealthy. I love to accessorize and all accessories MUST be color coordinated. My hat has to match my sweatshirt which of course matches my sunglasses and sneakers and oftentimes fanny pack. So that’s how I found myself going to the beach a couple weekends ago with a red and grey Marist College sweatshirt and a matching red Marist hat. Because obviously the only red hat I own is my collegiate color and none other than the color of Shooter that wily Red Fox of a mascot. #PutYourShootersUp. What I didn’t realize is that this outfit choice made me look like an overzealous 18 year old who just decided where she was going to spend the next four years and went crazy at the bookstore to stunt that new school pride all over the joint. And that’s how I found myself in a predicament with an actual child (graduating high school senior) asking me if I go to Marist because that’s where he’s going in the fall and I had to reply I did go there…10 years ago.
So after struggling to answer far too many interview-style questions being lobbed at me about my what dorms I lived in and my favorite thing about campus, I wanted to reflect on this ten year anniversary. It feels like a big thing…it’s been a decade since I finished schooling and although they tell you you’re a grown-up in the real world when you leave college, I’ve come to learn that couldn’t be further from the truth. When I look back on baby 22-year-old Ju, I want to pull a Scar and tell her to run. RUN AWAY AND NEVER RETURN! Just kidding, sort of. I just want to do that fun thing you can only do when you have more years of life experience under your belt…look backward and share some perspective with the girl who was so clueless she didn’t even know how her college was paid for until her exit interview a week before graduation when she was handed a packet of info from Sallie Mae on paying off 4 years of loans. What a sweet, sweet idiot.
Disclaimer for all who haven’t heard or experienced it for themselves, May 25, 2013 will not only forever be remembered as my college graduation, but more importantly, as the day that there was such horrifically bad stormy weather from top to bottom, and yet the geniuses that planned my commencement decided to FORGE AHEAD with an outdoor ceremony. To say it was a miserable shitshow would be the understatement of the G-D century and yes obviously I’m still bitter about it and I was even more bitter when the following year it was 75 and sunny. To sit facing the Hudson River while you get pelted by rain, soaked completely through, can’t hold an umbrella because it will blow inside out and also have to hold your graduation cap in your lap with a death grip because if you don’t it’ll take flight in the hurricane winds whipping is not a milestone moment I wish on anyone. Shout out to the do-do brains who decided everyone should suffer through that for hours instead of just putting everyone in the dry and warm gym. Hope that gametime decision doesn’t keep you up at night.
For anyone who wants to visualize the soggy crapfest that I was still shivering from a week later:
Perfect day for graduation!Scenic view of umbrellas!Beautiful face for a beautiful day.Was this a strong gust or the tossing of the cap portion of the day? We may never know.Please note my green rain jacket which I paired with rolled up yoga pants under my gown as my originally planned white lace dress was no longer appropsThe crew that got waterboarded for this occasion, plus my elderly grandmother. THANKS MARIST.My hat blew off as I shook hands with the President. F-U-N!The only pair of shoe I still had unpacked to wear at the last minute. Even though they’re called boat shoes, they cannot handle a rough sea. My feet were v moist.
10. Stop looking backward so much. I realize the utter irony of kicking off a blog that is completely centered on looking backward and telling myself to stop looking backward. It’s something I definitely struggle with, and I’m always hard on myself with my struggles. But I have noticed throughout the years that I’m always looking into the past and romanticizing how I was happier then or had XYZ then that I don’t have now. And then I do it over and over again as the years go on. And if you think about it, if I’m always looking back and saying wow look how great that time in my life was, then my life is probably great pretty often and I should maybe cherish those moments as they’re happening instead of reminiscing or comparing the past to the present so much. So this is a solid reminder for Lil Ju AND Big Ju (big refers to my age and not my size because obviously as you can see, I’m basically the spitting image of 22 year old me. Haven’t gotten chunkier due to a slower metabolism AT AWL.)
9. Take more road trips. I absolutely love to travel and have always kept a running list of places to visit and trips that I want to take. However, it’s been a rare occurrence that I’ve had the budget for traveling. In college, I was able to make the most of studying abroad, checking out different spots in Europe while I was in Italy, boarding Ryan Air with a prayer that the wing wouldn’t just dislodge itself mid-flight because with the prices they were charging for that airline and the state of disarray the planes were in, it’s honestly a miracle that so many broke students have survived to tell the tale. But once I was stateside again, I couldn’t really afford flights (US doesn’t give you the poverty option to fly barley legal aircrafts for cheap) and I wish that I got craftier in planning trips. There’s so many states to explore and I should’ve just gotten some friends together, hopped in the car and made it happen. Road trips can be just as fun and splitting gas costs and stopping at cheap motels with a gang of buds could’ve been cost effective and some great travel memories. Now that I’m old, most people don’t have flexibility with their jobs or time off from work or even day to day family responsibilities to be able to just take a frivolous trip just because. My go-to travel buddy is my retired dad right now. And while that’s pretty great, I also wish just once I could’ve done a coming of age style cross-country road trip with buddies fueled by junk food and mix CD’s, stopping at all the stupid roadside attractions documented by my Nikon Coolpix dusty pink digital cam.
8. Don’t think about building a career at 22. HEY YOU, YEAH YOU! You’re not going to graduate with a degree in Radio/TV/Film and start working on a TV show or film set within the first year of graduation. The unrealistic expectations I had with this were bonkers mad. I spent my first summer post-graduation sending my resume NON-STOP to any production assistant opening that came through on Media Bistro or whatever dumb job search engine was hot in the streets then. I had two resumes, one with a fake NYC address on it, and one with a fake LA address on it. I had worked connections on both coasts and asked to use their address to get my foot in the door because I didn’t think I was going to land a TV gig in Upstate NY. Which turned out to be very correct. Also, don’t really recommend lying about your address because all it got me was an interview for the Steve Wilkos Show in Stamford, CT and I had to pretend I just breezed on over from my apt in NYC when in reality, my dad chauffeured me 3 hours each way to make this interview that was a real bust. I was so laser-focused on my “dream” and how bad it would look to have lots of jobs and to work at places that I knew weren’t connected to my goal of being a TV producer that I didn’t think about the big picture, which was that I was 22 years old and no one gives a shit.
Every experience that you say yes to, you’re going to take something away from it. And maybe that leads to a career, but you’re never going to have a career right out of college. Some people never have a career at all. Sure, you just graduated with $27,000 in debt that’s about to accrue a buttload of interest for the next ten years, and the entry level entertainment positions pay $10-$12 an hour, and you just want to be a big TV exec rolling in it…but that’s not the journey you’re on, kemosabe. You’re on the get laid off 3 times by the time you’re 30, work in 10 different industries, string together some restaurant and temp jobs, barely scrape by in a small town journey. And you know what? That journey will lead you to a little thing called covid with a lump sum of pandemic unemployment assistance to pay off that student debt you didn’t know you’d have until you graduated because you never thought to ask your dad who was footing the bill for college. Most of my friends were still working at restaurants in their mid-twenties trying to figure out what was next. Career Schmareer. It all works itself out so take the ride, kid, and maybe try harder to get free drinks at the bar. Cut costs where you can, yanno?
7. Do social things other than going to bars. I was fortunate to spend my prime drinking years in a party town. Caroline St. was in its heyday in my twenties (I can say this for sure now because I just galloped down it once again for a throwback night and learned that it’s gone all the way downhill since then even changing closing time from 4am to 2am because the riffraff that’s drinking there these days are exploring knife and gunplay while blasted. FUN!) So obviously I had my fair share of debauchery. I knew most of the bartenders and bouncers and was no stranger to the happy hour that turns into going home at 4am with a doughboy. (Even those are trash now, called OBoy’s and tasting worse than a frozen burrito.) HOW-EV-ER, once I hit 25 I got sick of exclusively going to the bars every single weekend and was looking to expand my portfolio of fun adventures. I dabbled in a kickball league (if you spit out your coffee while reading this trying to picture me existing in an athletic environment pls know that I did this exclusively for my boyfriend and we broke up mid-season and I was so relieved to not have to go anymore…but an effort WAS made), local hockey games, comedy shows, plays, game nights, and tubing–river in the summer, snow in the winters. And I can’t recommend it enough. It’s easy to get stuck going to the same bars you’re comfortable with and getting fuzzy on the deets, but there comes a time (or at least with me specifically) where it started to get a little embarrassing to be getting older and still drinking like it was college. Sure, these are the years to get after it like a bunch of boozehounds, but also know when it’s time to start suggesting new things for the friend group and also potentially mix it up and meet new friends! And not for nothing, I believe booze was incorporated in every single one of those other activities. But as long as it’s breaking up the “let’s black out and dance at the bar and see what guys try to smooch us” monotony, then it still counts.
6. Explore Solo Dolo. Don’t feel embarrassed or weird about doing things that you want to do on your own. As you can tell by the fact that I do the majority of my activities alone these days, I’ve gotten much more comfy with it. I wish I was as into it back then. I remember the first Boston Marathon that I was living in Boston for, I had no one to go check it out with. So I just went. I took the train in and walked around Copley Square and took pictures and felt the palpable energy of the crowd. I definitely cried a little because I was lonely and couldn’t drum up a friend to join me, but it’s a memory I still often think about. It was one of the first few marathons post-bombing and it was a little scary to just rock out on my own after knowing what happened in 2013, but the atmosphere was so positive and uplifting and then I met up with my sister and her co-workers and got trashed on a Monday, making true Bostonians proud. I think I stopped myself a lot in my twenties when it came to doing something on my own because I felt like everyone was judging me for being a loser. I’ve seen itty bitty teens stop in a grocery store, prop up their phone on the shelf and do a TikTok dance. No one is judging you for being solo, and as a matter of fact, we should all be redirecting our judgment to the TikTok generation cause that shit is embarrassing. Grow up and do your weird TikTok dances in the privacy of your own home like I’ve learned to do.
5. Don’t be a jelly belly. This is something I’m DEFINITELY still actively working on, but I can always recognize when I’ve fudged up with it pretty quickly after the fact, so self awareness is key. Everyone is in different seasons of their life and that starts to become more and more apparent in your mid to late twenties. You’ll have friends who are single, friends who can’t find their footing with jobs, friends who are living at home (yes the last three are referring to yours truly), friends who are getting married, friends who are having kids, the whole damn spectrum. Don’t be jealous of other people’s milestones. Support them, be happy for them, and hope that eventually your time will come. This is a little bit of a twofer for me personally because not only was I a little bit envious of everyone’s happy celebrations of love or baby or buying a home, but I’ve also typically been toeing the poverty line. And these big ole celebrations cost a lot of money! Showers (baby or bridal), bachelorette weekends, weddings in a different town where travel and hotel are required, that shit definitely adds up quick when you’re going paycheck to paycheck or having to ask your parents for a handout to make rent that month. There were times when I just plain couldn’t justify spending hundreds of dollars on a bach weekend, but there were other times when I probably could’ve made it work but I was being a bitter little betch. That’s on me. There’s a couple of life stage celebrations from my early twenties that I definitely regret missing out on because I was being a brat and didn’t want to be flexible to make it happen or I felt like I couldn’t take time off from a job that I’d just started since I was perpetually job hopping for a solid decade. So the bottom line is prioritize your friends and their special occasions. Show that you’re happy for them and you care about them and that you’re not green with jealousy because when your time rolls around (God willing) you don’t want people being like thanks but no thanks, ya dirtbag.
4. Say YES to all theme parties. I’ve always been a big booty big ole lover of themes and costumes. And as someone who had to abruptly stop celebrating Halloween because she was no longer in a relashe and had aged out of the Halloweekend bar scene, I long for the dress-up days. Shouts to my group of gal pals in Saratoga who were always down for a group activity or a costumed extravaganza. Though I’m very much not a fan of “girl gangs”, preferring to have deeper connections with each of my friends and bonding one on one, giant squads are GREAT for doing silly things. I loved that time in my twenties when any whisper of an occasion could turn into a themed banger. One fall Mercury was coming out of retrograde and my friends organized a galaxy-themed party to celebrate. After I went to Hawaii and wouldn’t stop hanging loose in everyone’s grill piece I planned my own birthday party around a floral shirt and backwards hat I had brought back to the mainland. When I was FRESH out of college I invited friends over on a night when my parents were out of town to watch the Winter Olympics and dress up as a country. So this little tidbit isn’t necessarily a “do better at this, younger Ju” piece of wisdom but more so a “cherish these goofy ass parties because they end and then it’s depressing” note. I can no longer just gather with a bunch of chicks to paint pumpkins, decorate a gingerbread house, or hit the town in Halloween costumes. This is probably also why I cried about the lack of participation from my mom and my sister on my “wigs night out” birthday last year. (Check out my birthday blog if you missed that sob story.) I miss these moments! I don’t miss the inevitable drama that comes with having a large girl group who gets sauced every weekend and talks smack behind each other’s backs. I DO miss rolling deep in Hawaiian shirts and backwards hats and sharing lots of giggles and photoshoots. In retrospect, this is probably why I’ve never had a large circle of friends for very long because I like to stay on the outskirts of the dramz but dip in for the funz. I also can be somewhat of an instigator because I love goss more than life itself (except when it’s about me.) So sue me. Jk pls don’t. Bottom line, every young girl should have a party crew on standby in her twenties.
3. Go on actual dates (So you’re not 31 going on your very first date with a boy). UGH this one is rough because the apps pretty much ruined dating over the past ten years. I remember when Tinder came out I was a junior in college and thought it was HIGH-larious to download and ask random boys how many pushups they could do. I never actually took it seriously and I used to just get drunk and surf through, much like I would get sauced and smooch boys at the bar then tell them to have a nice life. I guess that doesn’t constitute dating. Who knew. So, after being the kind of girl no guys looked at romantically in high school, moving onto a hookup culture college, and then having the apps take over didn’t really set up a dating environment for me. I didn’t go on a proper date until I was 26 and at that point I had already been working with the guy and texting him every second of every day for about 3 months, so it wasn’t really what we would call dating because I think by the end of the night we were both already all in. And then by the time we broke up for good after years of on and off, I was already in my thirties and had never dated. I’m very set in my ways at this point and forcing myself to do small talk with strangers to find a life mate is enough to make me want to saw both of my arms off with a butter knife. So, young, fun, hard crop-top wearin, 22 year old Ju: GO ON DATES. Learn how to socialize with men in a normal way and I don’t mean by exploring their tongue with your tongue after a tequila shot and then scampering into the night keeping your virginity firmly intact well into your twenties. Maybe if I had seen what was out there in the low pressure days, I wouldn’t be so turned off by the notion of networking to find a huz in my older years.
2. Figure out what you enjoy and keep it as a hobby, apart from work. We’re getting to the end of the list and these last two are very recent realizations. As you might’ve assumed after reading #8, I was dead set on finding a job that I was passionate about and really truly loved. I always figured, you spend the majority of your life working, 40 hours a week from 20-65, you should probably enjoy that job. I spent MANY years chasing that. And then after two whole years of unemployment, a desperate thirst for ANY job happened and I decided it was time to throw in the towel on that far-fetched dream. Sure, there are people that love their job. But I could argue that they’re the minority. Most people do a job to make the money to live the life they want. All of the jobs that I had that I truly loved, paid me in actual dirt. Like if they could’ve gotten away with turning my position into an unpaid internship, they would’ve. I literally couldn’t afford an apartment on their salaries and as an extra junk punch, they were also in an industry that likes to lay off employees every few months just to keep things spicy. Now I work for the state, I’ve got job security, ample time off, and I’m not asking my parents to help me pay rent every month (yet…the way inflation is going, I’m not ruling it out.)
Moral of the story: a job is a job, and it’s probably going to suck. Learn to deal with the suck to afford the things you want and do the things you love as a hobby to stay sane. I love writing these little blogs, I love making little stupid social media videos, I love walking around cute little towns and taking pictures like an amateur iPhone photographer. A few weeks ago I stayed up past my bedtime, completely schnackered writing hot takes on what celebrities wore to the Met Ball and then woke up the next morning to edit it and finish that monster blog to meet my own deadline of posting it by 9am. Do I get paid to do that? Absolutely not. And honestly, if I did, I probably wouldn’t love it so much. It would become a job and therefore it would lose its luster and become another boring task to complete. Do you see a pattern here? Work is stupid. Figure that out MUCH quicker and find the things you love, then put your energy into that in your free time. And if you stop loving it, find something new to love. Cause that’s the only way I’ve learned how to justify spending hours of your life doing a boring job. Also, PERHAPS the hobby will open doors for new opportunities or cool people to meet! (Still waiting for that to happen as I actively join every writing Zoom class or group that I can afford. Will report back in another 10 years if there’s progress.)
1. Give a new place AT LEAST a year before moving away. You know how hard it is to stay living in a place when you have no friends and you still have to use a GPS pretty much every time you drive somewhere? Supes hard. It’s WAY easier to just skedaddle back to the place you know where you still have a few friends to grab drinks with at your regular spot and it’s comfy and feels like home. I’ve got a real flight mode tradition when something stinks and it usually kicks in around 8 months. A year really isn’t a long time if you think about it, it flies by. But when something is awful, it feels like forever. So whenever I’ve hated a job or hated being lonely and uncomfortable where I was living, I’d kick it into gear at that 8 month mark that I needed to make a change. Realistically, if a job stinks after 3 months it’s not going to get better. Living somewhere new on the other hand is quite the opposite. It takes FOR-EV-ER to put down roots in a new place. And I’ve never really had the patience for that because a year or more is a long time to feel out of place somewhere. When I lived in Boston, month 8 rolled around and I hated my job, could barely afford my apartment, and had a couple of friends living there that were mostly busy doing their own thing or in different life stages than me. So I made the decision to split and head back to my comfort of Saratoga. The *minute* I made that decision and got the ball rolling, I started to become friendlier with my co-workers, even hanging out with one outside of work. That was the first time I realized it really takes a LONG time for people to warm up and things to start happening when you’re the new girl in town. Luckily, I didn’t have to remind myself of that lesson when I moved to New Jersey, because once you march through the hellfire that is switching everything (car, license, insurance, etc.) over to a different state, you’re not as tempted to move back home so quickly. But it is important to note that I didn’t make a real new friend until well into my second year of living here. And I am proud to say that I use the GPS less and less and have really started to build a life for myself here. It just takes WAY longer than my impatient ass can handle.
BONUS: Go to therapy sooner. I’m only adding in this last little chirp to my younger self because I talked about writing this blog to my therapist this week. It was my first in-person appointment in a whole year and I could’ve kicked back on that couch and talked to my homegirl Jill all damn day. Unfortunately, she’s a professional and she told me to get the hell out at the 50 minute mark. But before my rambling was cut short, I shared with her that it’s some real rich shit that I think I’m in any place to be writing a blog that gives my younger self advice when I’m zooming with her weekly crying about how I’m so lonely and stuck looking back and romanticizing the past and never feeling happy, etc. etc. And J-Money said, “Don’t you think that seeing me every week and talking about these feelings and thoughts that you have and trying to be better and work through them is exactly WHY you’re in a position to talk to your younger self?” BOOM. And that’s why you go to therapy, folks. To feel like a superior human being. Just kidding, that’s not the *only* reason, but I cannot praise therapy enough. I think every single person should be required to go. I wouldn’t be exclaiming that we need a new plague every time I have an interaction with an insufferable human if we were all in therapy talking about our traumas, working through big feelings and learning how to stop being a*holes. So, I wish I went the second I stepped off campus. I wish I had the Jillybean with me through ALL the job hopping and moving all over the Northeast and the changing of friend groups. Because having her as my constant for the last five years has been amazing, but I would’ve loved even more years with her. EVERYONE could benefit from therapy, and staying consistent with it, especially in your twenties which is such a weird time of finding yourself and feeling lost and confused. A sentiment my therapist was able to confirm for me as she had many patients around my age at the time I started seeing her. Feeling heard and seen and having someone want to learn about all of your experiences and feelings and be there for you to work through them is a powerful thing in some pretty crucial life development years. Even if that means paying them for that service. MONEY WELL SPENT! Ok now I’ve rambled too much about therapy and this is why I need a 50 minute cutoff.
So there you have it. I started writing this 32 year old to 22 year old real talk blog around my birthday but as it turns out, it all started flowing out of me when I took a road trip back to Saratoga, which was where I lived for the majority of ages 18 to 30 (with stints in Syracuse and Boston mixed in.) While I was on my way back to one significant place from my past, I passed by another on the Marist College Class of 2023’s graduation day. And as I came up on Exit 18 for New Paltz/Poughkeepsie under overcast skies spitting rain, it felt like I could literally blink and put myself right back on that final grey drive over the Mid-Hudson bridge into adulthood. Also rain AGAIN? Really? Is it a 10 year God smites the grads thing? Hope the administration wrote a similar blog to themselves from 10 years ago and their advice was to move the ceremony inside at the first whisper of inclement weather. Anyway, back to me painting the scenery of my meta light bulb moment. As I drove past Po-Town feeling incredibly nostalgic, scream-singing Taylor Swift and tearing up a little bit, just like I was a decade ago as I peeled out after the most sopping wet and disappointing day, it hit me. I may have thoughts and words of wisdom for 10 years ago Ju, but the truth is I still don’t really have it figured out and you know what? I don’t know if anyone actually does. Hindsight’s always going to be 20/20 and all we can do is seize every experience, feel all our feels and learn from our mistakes. And of course…go to therapy and try to be the best version of ourselves.
*Editors Note: This is a disgustingly long blog and I certainly didn’t intend for it to be this lengthy but about halfway through I realized writing out my experiences (good, bad, and ugly) was more cathartic for me than anything else so I’m gonna let it rip anyway. No offense taken if not a soul reads this.I also learned in a memoir class last winter that everyone’s story is unique and worth telling, and you never know who it might reach. So, YOLO.
I’ve been going through a rough season of my life. I’m calling it a season, even though it seems to have lasted much longer than a season because I’m hoping that if I say it enough, we’ll get closer to those dead ass leaves of sadness and loneliness falling off and a new season will bloom. Metaphors, BB! As a side effect of these challenging chapters, every time my birthday rolls around, I tend to hyperfocus on the fact that I’m another year older (greyer, fatter, & wrinklier) and yet have not gotten to where I pictured myself to be at this age. As it turns out, pointing out your failures on a celebratory day, does not create a let’s pop off party atmosphere unless you count pity parties as real bangerz. For several years in a row now, I’ve ugly cried on my birthday. It has become somewhat of a new tradition. Expectations are high for the day itself (how it’s celebrated, who is willing to celebrate it with me, what makes the day special, who I hear or do not hear from, etc.) and I blame my mother exclusively for this. I was raised with a great deal of hoopla for my birthday, coming down the stairs in the morning to a custom poster that she or my sisters made, flowers, balloons, themed decorations, fanfare at school, family dinners at my favorite restaurant or fun parties with friends, gifts, and desserts. In my college and post-college years, my birthday became the unofficial kickoff to summer and was rung in with a big ole Beer-B-Q full of lawn games, wieners & sunshine. Soon after, the social media era shuffled in full blown Instagram collages from all your besties. And then once I started moving around and making different friends (losing lots of friends) and becoming a real adult, that all stops. It’s a cold, harsh day when you don’t stumble down the stairs to a fresh birthday poster complete with curling ribbon. (Peep my birthday celly’s through the years below for a little taste of the spoiled life)
7 Year Old JuFire Baby Blue ‘Fit & Cursive from Mah16 & Licensed to Drive with balloons for a 4 year oldWent through a phase where I called everyone Gina, pronunced like va-GINA.Hannah Montana & Sesame Street Themed 18th…Best of Both WorldsLittle Mermaid Themed 19thLittle Mermaid after hoursA damn sash and crown.And a custom shotskiBoozy lunch with my co-worker/sister25 and fresh off of a scavenger hunt26Shit got weird at hibachi with some giant head singalong27. Mahalo.Pro Tip: When you move back home you get decorations againMy very own rose festival mid-covid for twenty-NOINE.
Once I made it past the quarter century epic boozy scav hunt, I started to be coy about my birthday, making it seem like I’m easy breezy and don’t care that much, but really just wanting someone to plan something fun and cool for me. JUST CELEBRATE ME AND PRETEND I’M NOT INSUFFERABLE, GAWD. Welp, that pretty much only works when you have a significant other who loves you so much that they’re willing to smother you to death with birthday affection and festivities. Or in some cases, not even then because perhaps your boyfriend buckles under pressure and feels like he doesn’t really know how to plan things and pretends you’re out of pancakes so he couldn’t make you breakfast and then takes NyQuil before dinner because he has a sniffle and doesn’t even notice when you’re literally choking from a raw veggie tossed down your throat by a Hibachi Chef who should have his veggie table play certification revoked. Just you know, as a general example of how things could maybe go on a birthday as an adult, definitely not based on real events and certainly not the reason I’ll never do hibachi again for any sort of celebration.
So, I’ve got sky high expectations for the day (again, thanks a lot, MOM) but also for my life in general. I think you might have realized from reading this blog, I’m a real judgmental and snarky B. I mean, you can’t give yourself the moniker “The Salty Ju” without being saltier than movie theater popcorn. But what you might NOT realize is that as quick as I am to dole out harsh judgments for everyone else, I’m even quicker to hammer on myself. Although it may seem like I’m constantly yapping about myself and my accomplishments, that’s something I force myself to do in order to look at the positives and how far I’ve come instead of harp on the things I haven’t achieved yet. And guess what? Life is a balance of both. There will always be moments that will make you want to sob your eyes out and give up, and moments that make you feel overjoyed, grateful, and fully present. I think the goal here, is to get to a place where the joy outweighs the sads.
First order of business: I’m going to actively try NOT to cry on my birthday this year. WE BREAK THE TRADISH AT 32. (*Hopefully*) I’m also going to cut myself a break. Three birthdays ago I was unemployed and living at home with absolutely no clue what was next other than that it had to be getting out of my parents house and standing on my own two feet again. Two birthdays ago I could afford my own apartment (on unemployment, shout out to the govvy on that one) and was able to swing a trip to LA for the occasion. And on my last birthday, I could afford a two bedroom apartment (UPGRADE! Shout out to my stable state job that I got on my own merit after grinding and interviewing for 2 years) and I was able to adopt a dog to give me all the birthday smooches. So maybe I didn’t have any friends to take me out on the town, but I also picked up my life and moved to a completely new state without knowing anyone and work remotely the majority of the time. Overall I’ve pushed myself out of my comfort zone and put myself out there more in the past couple of years than ever before. And that’s certainly something worth celebrating. But, I also can’t call myself a #NoFilter blog without revealing the dirt as well. I hate that we only see highlight reels in this social media generation. So here’s an unfiltered peek at what made me a blubbering mess in my 31st year and what brought me joy. My wish for my 32nd year is more smiles, less tears, and honestly when I look at the breakdown, I’m already on the right track.
Things That Caused Waterworks:
The movie Dog with Channing Tatum – it has a happy ending and yet I was laying on the floor with Charlee SOBBING every time this dog so much as whined. Netflix series From Scratch – I was unwell from this one, literally didn’t know if I could pick myself up and go on from a fictional television series yet somehow I found the strength to stop scream crying and move on with my real life. Shockingly for how much my eye sockets leaked throughout, I still would recommend it. Hulu’s Tiny Beautiful Things…it’s one of those messy series where you don’t really want to root for the main character because she’s such a disaster, but ooh baby this one snuck up on me as a real doozy. These are the three things that stick out that I cried an abnormal amount to. Like, these meant for entertainment pieces of art produced an alarming amount of sadness and tears for me, which is why they’re being listed. There were many other shows, commercials, movies, books, etc that made me tear up a normal human amount that was appropriate for the circumstances.
Giving $20 to a Facebook crackhead scamming me for Taylor Swift tickets. Not one of my finest hours and since it was a particularly low point, I’m obligated in full transparency to share my tale so that we can laugh at it after the fact. Obviously I desperately wanted tickets to Taylor Swift’s Era’s Tour, like every other human on the planet. I’ve never seen her live in concert, I’ve been a devoted fan since I was 16, I’m probably on my last leg of super fandom with her and I loved that this tour is a highlight reel of her career, so to speak. Natch, with things that I want so desperately, it all had to go to shit when she crashed Ticketmaster and allowed all of the scalpers in the world to scoop up her tickets and put them back on sale for quadruple the price. Since I’m not willing to drop a down payment for a house to sit in nosebleeds that were initially valued at $80, I accepted the crushing of this dream. UNTIL, a Facebooker posted in the Asbury Park Neighbors group (which I had only joined for apartment hunting purposes) that they were selling a couple of tickets. I inquired via private message how much and where they were located. They were selling the tickets for $200 a piece (unheard of), sent me a screenshot of the stadium layout and the seats were good, then asked me to send my email so they could transfer them from Ticketmaster and the full amount. Obviously, I’m not stupid and I would never just send a stranger $400. I told them I’d pass because there was no way to do this in a fair way. The next day they messaged me again asking if I was still interested. It seemed weird to push someone to buy tickets and there were certainly red flags here but I’m also hopeful to a fault. And on the RARE chance that these were actually legit tickets and I passed up the opportunity to have them, I knew I couldn’t live with myself. That’s why I set a budget of $20, something I’ve blown on far worse things to find out if it was a scam or not. The back and forth leading up to the exchange of money was full of “??” and grammatical errors and was somewhat erratic. I ignored it. The Zelle username was a completely different name than the Facebook profile, different gender, and the email was a third different name. I didn’t ignore it, I laughed at it and said wow this is probably a scam. I was strongly advised by my two friends who I was with at the time of transaction, not to do it. And yet my stubborn when I set my mind to it, hopeful that there’s actually good people in the world ass hit send on that Zelle transfer anyway. And wouldn’t you know it, it was very much a scam and I IMMEDIATELY felt like an idiot. I was fully prepared to insert screenshots of the entire exchange below for extra laughs but the scammer ended the exchange with “Your Papa” (his dirtbag calling card I presume) and deleted his Facebook profile probably so I couldn’t report him, thus deleting the message thread. I cried for the rest of the day. Since then, I have entered multiple radio and social media contests, followed a Twitter account that sells LEGIT tickets and check third party sites regularly to see if the prices have come down. As of publish date, I will not be seeing Taylor Swift live this year or probably ever.
My wig party was cancelled. Last year’s birthday was a real doozy of snots and cries. I had planned to go home so I didn’t have to be alone on the big day, and have always wanted to do a Bachelorette style night out with funky wigs (it has been on the bucket list for ages.) So I recruited my sister and my mom, we all ordered Amazon’s finest wigs and planned to go to the local pub and look like idiots and share some laughs. This plan fell through probably because my sister never had any desire to put a colored wig on and go out in public but also because she has a lot on her plate right now with two little needy grubbers AKA children. And I handled it like a champ. If by handling it like a champ you mean having a tantrum fit for a 4 year old and crying so hard that my mom asked if I should be on medication. It can only go up from here, folks.
Dating. I have for the first time in my life joined a dating app, it is as grim as everyone says it is, and yet I forced myself to at least go on one date from the app to dust off the ole cobwebs. Believe it or not, ya girl has never dated. I’ve had exactly one boyfriend and I met him through work. And ya know what I realized? Ya girl does not WANT to date. Swiping through profiles of men that are doing their absolute best to market themselves and they still look like disasters? No thanks. I’ll take organically meeting, forming a crush, texting all day everyday and building the basis of a friendship THEN finding out your red flags and deciding I’m already too far in to reject you over looking at a profile and seeing all of your red flags proudly displayed ANY DAY OF THE WEEK AND TWICE ON SUNDAY. Dating apps are not for me. I also don’t want to kiss strangers. I’ve been there. I dabbled in the making out at bars after a brown-out phase of my life real hard in college. I smooched a lot of strange. And I usually regretted it the next day. I’m too old for that shit now. I do not want a strange man’s mouth near mine. And as it turns out, that’s exactly what men want after they buy you dinner. So after a first date off of Hinge where I learned the gentleman in front of me was my age and has never lived anywhere other than with his parents, I took a breather from Hinge. And then a friend of mine set me up on a blind date, and on the second date, when I realized that I absolutely did not want a smooch from this individual, I bolted to my car and sobbed the whole drive home. And that’s it for me on dating, y’all! Call me an Old Maid because I will absolutely die alone probably wearing a hat.
I canโt believe Harry and Meghan casually met on Instagram because of the Snapchat dog filter and Iโm out here fighting for my life trying to find an eligible bachelor on Hinge in a sea of bozos like this. #HarryandMeghanNetflixpic.twitter.com/bcOma0IWqT
My first ever interaction on Hinge. ‘Twas an omen.
My shower going cold every single day this winter. I pay an ungodly amount in rent to be having hot water issues. And yet, after getting 2 new hot water heaters, a third larger hot water heater, having a plumber come, changing the shower head, having the hot water heater adjusted, having an electrician come, and finally having the faucet taken off and dabbled with, the conclusion that my apartment maintenance came to was “we don’t know what the problem is” with a heavy side of “we think you’re making this up.” Nothing like being gaslit about my hot water sitch! I have hot water for exactly 10 minutes. And then it’s freezing cold. Guess who takes a 15-20 minute shower? This girl. So for an entire winter, I’ve started my day RUSHING to get the conditioner out of my hair or finish shaving in ice cold water. Many tears were shed, which actually helped as they were warmer than the water coming out of the shower head. Please pray to the apartment Gods that I find something else by July 31st because I cannot do another year of the shivers.
Not having anyone to watch Christmas movies with. Christmas is my favorite festive holiday season and I love getting in the Christmas spirit by decorating the tree, walking around looking at twinkly lights and of course, watching every trash hometown holiday movie that I can get my peepers on. This year hit extra hard that I had no one to share the joy of roasting Hallmark movies with. It’s like how can I even enjoy a spontaneous Christmas singalong at a hometown pageant if I have no one to look across the couch at and burst into laughter while simultaneously cringing out of my skin?
My ex-boyfriend coming back into my life, apologizing for blocking me, saying he’ll never do it again, telling me I’m his best friend and basically family at this point then a couple months later telling me to fuck off forever and blocking me again. I mean this one seems pretty self-explanatory (sorry but also not really that sorry for cursing.) Nothing like having a soft spot for the only guy you’ve ever loved and letting this exact scenario play out on a seasonal cycle for the past three years! Why? Feel free to scroll back to the aforementioned “hopeful to a fault” personality trait. I’m a work in progress. But also, the whiplash from being pulled in for a warm hug of comfort, ease, and best friendship when you’re in a place where you don’t really know anyone else to suddenly be dropkicked off the top of that rollercoaster? Big fat tears are pretty justified, so this was one of my more legit boohoo’s. And for those of you reading who are like damn, she really went there…
Having no one that lives nearby to take me to a colonoscopy. No one wants to have health problems, it’s always going to suck to have procedures done or not be sure what’s going on with your body. But I’ll tell you what, it definitely makes the situation a milli times worse when you have to calculate the price of taking an Uber home post-butthole examination. Realizing that in order to not Uber home while coming off of anesthesia, I’d have to as a grown adult ask one of my parents to drive 5 hours to take me to the procedure was a tough moment. Even tougher was how stubborn I was about trying to do it by myself and getting halfway through the fasting day before finally calling it knowing that even an over the counter cough medicine makes me ill-suited to operate a motor vehicle and there’s no chance I would’ve been able to get myself home afterward. I snotted all over my plain cheeseburger, chicken sammy and medium fry as I attempted to re-nourish my body and also work through the feeling of having no one to call. (Of course if you’re a loyal reader, you’ll know I had a lot of big feelings about this particular issue and ended up writing a blog about it to laugh away the tears.)
Anytime I had a whole weekend by myself with no plans. I think what’s so interesting about life is how everyone is in a completely different place. Anytime I would text my sister and say I’ve got a wide open weekend to fill with everything Netflix has ever produced, she’d quickly reply that she was jealous. To a mom with two young kids, that is the ULTIMATE dream of a weekend. To a young(ish) single gal, it’s boring and torturously long. I know, I know, you get the point, I’ve got a real case of the lonelies. You try moving to a different state as a grown up and making grown up friends who have time to hang out and also have similar interests as you…YOU WON’T. There were many a weekend (mostly in the dead of winter) where I saw those two free, uninterrupted days as something to get through. Sometimes I slept more to fill up the empty time (I realize that is basically the pure definition of depression) but shout out to our Mother Earth for going into meltdown mode lately because the mild weather this winter meant many more beach trips when there was nothing else to do.
Constructive Criticism. After two years of non-stop rejections, I thought I had grown thicker skin and could get down with any critique to be tossed my way. I learned that was not the case when I took my first ever month-long humor writing course. After introductions were made in week 1, I realized that I was way out of my league. I felt like a kindergartener who stumbled into a college course. Everyone else was more experienced, the jokes they pitched were all hilarious, their drafts were crushing it effortlessly, and when it came time to read mine it felt like everyone was like you can go shave your back now. They weren’t, but I had a bad case of imposter syndrome and rather than getting energized by this class to start kicking ass and getting published more frequently and move my way up the ladder to websites that are harder to get accepted at…I crumbled and wah wah’ed about how I have no business calling myself a humor writer. Apparently people who are *good* humor writers, go through SEVERAL drafts and iterations of a piece, getting feedback from all sorts of people before even submitting. YIKES am I amateur hour. Even the feedback that I gave, the instructor of the class would completely contradict. So I’m not even good at that part! Naturally, I’ve handled all of this really well by avoiding writing satire since then.
Giving my dog a bath and barely surviving as she clawed at me in fear. I have a small bathroom and I weigh twice as much as my dog so I was really confident I could give her anxious ass a bath on my own. I figured you gotta fake it til you make it (much like I faked being a comedy writer for the past few years) and if I was strong-willed enough to hold my dog down in the tub WWE style, we’d make it happen. After just shutting her into the bathroom caused her to have a full blown shaking-like-a-leaf panic attack, I knew I was fucked. What ensued after is a nightmare that I never want to relive again. What followed was bringing her to Petsmart every week for a month after that for “happy visits” to “let her walk around the grooming area, get treats and get comfortable with the idea” which is code for tipping a chick each time who never actually gave my dog a damn bath. I finally found a groomer who’s up to the task of working with my melodramatic little woofer who howls and shakes while being hosed down but is perfectly content to splash around in a dirty puddle like it’s her own little spa oasis. I learned my lesson here. Also that scratch hurt like a bitch.
Getting told by a Walmart tax guy that I owed $1200 and another $400 to him for telling me so. Again, when something is shocking and a real tearjerker in the moment, often I am able to take a step back and find the absurdity in it for some laughs. Having my most expensive tax return come from a blue tent across from a Subway in Walmart checks all the boxes for a highly entertaining blog. And I can laugh even harder now that I’ve actually received my tax return, it was the opposite of what this jabrone told me and a fraction of the cost for someone who’s not a complete quack to do it.
Finding out what egg freezing costs these days. My biological clock started ticking so loud I couldn’t ignore it when I hit 30. So by 31, I felt it was time to ask my Gynecologist what she thought. She handed over some pamphlets for specialists that do egg retrieval and freezing procedures and told me to call and find out more about it if I wanted to. She also reassured me that the average age that women are when they have their first child has increased over the years and she’s delivered many healthy babies to women in their forties. Isn’t it some ripe shit that women were created to dry right up, with their most fertile years and healthiest shape for child bearing occurring in their early twenties. EARLY TWENTIES. I didn’t have sex for the first time until I was 23. I literally was PASSING MY PRIME PREGNANCY YEARS the first time I even did the thing that makes a baby. And don’t get me started on how men can reproduce until they’re 6 feet under. Robert DeNiro just had his 7th child at 79. BARF ALL OVER ME. Hey, let’s make men immature and not really looking to settle down until late thirties/early forties and women dried up old cactuses unable to make a baby at that same age. MAKES PERFECT SENSE. Anyway, long story short I waited an entire year to call that specialist because I was afraid to know the truth. And the truth hurts: “The current cost for one cycle of egg freezing at our center is $7,150 plus the cost of medications at a pharmacy which can be between $4,000 – $8,000. The first year of storage for the eggs are included and after that you the fee is $750 per year.” So even if I had a kewl $15K lying around, I’d also need to cough up another $750 for every year that my eggs sit in some laboratory’s Frigidaire chest. Can’t I just toss those bad boys in my own freezer free of charge? I’ve got the perfect spot in between the Trader Joe’s hash browns and the thing I got at a craft fair that you shove into your cleavage to cool down when you’re a sweaty betty.
Things That Made Me Smile:
Watching Charlee run full speed off leash. It’s a good thing I had so many open-ended boring weekends, because I decided to unleash (pun intended) my inner Cesar Milan and train my dog to be let out into the wild otherwise known as the beach. Starting with a 20 ft leash that in hindsight was a pretty stupid purchase (I was going for a baby steps approach) because it gave me a bitchin leash burn when she took off running and I only used it one time before just switching to trial and error. Working with her on something and seeing her not only get better each time with her listening and recall but watching the happiest dog in the world let it rip full speed after a flock of seagulls was rewarding AF and gave me all of the smiles. Although we’re still working out the kinks and can’t walk the beach when it’s crowded (too many people she MUST say hello to), and after an incident jumping on a Hasidic Jewish couple and terrorizing them in what some may unfortunately categorize as a hate crime (she truly thought they were playing and she’s sorry), I promise we HAVE made major progress.
Watching Charlee learn to love the ocean. There will be many dog-related joys here because THAT’S WHY YOU GET A DOG…to smother it with unconditional love and think everything it does is adorable and perfect. When I brought Charlee to the beach for the first time a month after I adopted her, I walked her closer to the water and she immediately backed away as if the ocean was trying to swallow her whole. I get it, as someone who has recently become too scared to swim in the ocean, I wasn’t going to force her to be a sea lion. But I knew I wanted her to be comfortable at the beach because it is the place I visit the most and so each time we worked on off leash training, I got closer and closer to the water. And each time she got more and more comfortable until she was letting it touch her feet. Last weekend she graduated from a wet paw to a full head dunk and I nearly cried tears of joy. MY BABY IS ALL GROWN UP! Look at her frolick her face off in the sea. Bitch will be surfing by end of summer, mark my words. (Yet still afraid of baths…makes total sense.)
Forming a VIP dog park circle. All it took was about 8 months of small talk with my neighbors in the dog park every night after work and one power outage in January to form a VIP dog park circle. If I’m going to be involved in anything, obviously it’s going to get a stupid nickname. The power went out, I was too scared to sit in the dark in my apartment, so my neighbor started a group text asking if I wanted to meet at the dog park and the rest as they say, is history. I made two besties that I don’t have a whole lot in common with other than dogs and I wouldn’t have it any other way. They’ve been more willing to hang out, talk, or listen than any of the other casual acquaintances I’ve made since I moved here. They even witnessed my vacation from sanity when I wire transferred money to an obvious scammer while we were all taking a nice long mental health walk at the beach and then broke down in tears afterward. And guess what? They’re still my friends! (For now.) We’ve laughed, we’ve I’ve cried, we’ve talked shit about the weirdos at the dog park, cause nothing bonds humans like hot goss. I’ve been envious of Charlee’s ability to make friends wherever she goes, but in this case, homegirl helped me out and it made a huge difference this winter to have pals to lean on and get me out of the apartment to socialize.
Spring Training Redemption in Florida. When I was 23 at my very first full-time job working side by side with my dear ole sis, we came up with the grand idea to take a long weekend in St. Jetersberg to watch that toight ass play in a Spring Training game. Realistically, my dad wanted to go and we invited ourselves and made it about Jeets. I hadn’t even earned vacation time yet, so I asked my boss if I could use sick time instead and he approved. Then I went to Parade Day, did Irish Car Bombs from what I can only assume was a dirty glass and got Mono. (I know, I didn’t even get it from a solid Irish tongue sesh.) Unfortunately for all, I didn’t know I had mono, I just knew I felt and looked like death, so off to Florida we went. I thought it was a little sus that I got off of a 3 hour flight and then felt so drained and exhausted from sleeping on said flight that I put myself down for another 4 hour nap and barely had the energy to get dinner. Yet we soldiered on. On day 2 we sent photos of the gang grabbin mad sting rays at the Clearwater Aquarium to my mom and her reply was “Julia looks rough.” Understatement of the century. Shoutout to my dream team for pulling a Weekend at Bernie’s to get me through the weekend. This year, I finally got to run it back without a contagious disease ravaging my body and making me look like I went a few rounds with Mike Tyson. Although I missed my twin dearly, it was banger of a redo as I attended 3 games, nearly sizzled the skin off of my upper knee to mid thigh region, and got clocked with a softly lobbed ball by Yanks player DJ LeMahieu. Don’t call it a comeback, call it a glowup. (Also used real vacay time, cause I got plenty of that to go around now.)
The Year of Ballparks. This is somewhat piggybacking off of the last one, but still counts as it brought me joy this year. My dad always tried to take us to a ball game whenever we visited a new city. Since I’ve been to most of the parks in the Northeast, I suggested to my dad that we start mixing it up and visiting new ones to add to the list. Of course I was quickly humbled when we sat next to a woman at a Yanks spring training game and she told me she was on her way to Miami for opening day because it’ll be the grand opening of their “new park” and therefore it was one she hasn’t visited yet. Naturally she has been to the rest. But now we’ve got a father/daughter goal and boy do I love a damn checklist. This year I added Citi Field, Citizens Bank Park, Baycare Ballpark & Cool Today BallPark to the list of parks I’ve seen a game at and in a month I’ll tack Wrigley onto that. I also annoyed every single IG follower I have by never letting a “baseball hot dog selfie” bit die and for that I am truly grateful. But seriously though, there’s absolutely nothing better than a beautiful day, the crack of a baseball bat (preferably when the ball isn’t heading toward my body), an ice cold beer, and a juicy wiener. I’ve gone to games with different friends and family each time and it has been one of my new favorite fun activities now that I live within train distance to the city and decided to become a Mets fan because who doesn’t love an underdog story and also because I spent 3+ years getting Mets superfan facts spit at me all hours of the day and night and it would be a shame for all of that to go to waste much like my prime child-birthing years did.
Sunrise at the beach. Simply put, I am a #1 fan of the sun waking up at the beach. Whether I’m taking a walk with the dog or biking the boardwalk, there’s no other feeling that matches watching the sun rise over the water and seeing all of the different variations of colors. It’s the same every damn day and yet it’s a unique view every time. Now all I gotta do is get that beach apt and I can watch that big fiery tamale ascend into the sky until my eyes fall out of my head.
Being the cool aunt. This year my niece has been all about declaring that she wants to come live with me in my “compartment” when she gets older. And I take that as the highest compliment. I’m cool Auntie Juj who lives on her own near fun things at the beach. Watching her live it up on her first shore vacation here was fun as hell and I love that through a 5 year old’s eyes I’m giving off cool roomie vibes. Of course I told her Auntie Juj doesn’t do roommates, but we’ll cross that bridge when she runs away from her parents house for the first time and I take her to Bar A for Beat the Clock.
Climbing a donut wall meant for toddlers. My second favorite thing about being an Aunt, other than having street cred and being able to tell the kids to get away from me when they’re being annoying, is doing things that are completely geared toward small children and pretending it’s all about them. I can assure you that as the below video was being taken, my niece was whining the entire time that I was ruining her day and she was over rock climbing and just wanted to go home and I HAD to climb the donut wall. Tough shit, kid. I went from not knowing how to clip my harness and getting one step up on a bumblebee before crapping myself and giving up when I first got there to scaling this entire wall of do-do’s. GROWTH. Also it was super fun and if anyone wants to lend me their child for a Saturday so I can work on getting up a level 3 without looking like a real creep, I’d appreciate that.
Entering my Shania Twain era. On a real whim, I happened upon a pair of acid wash, high waisted, mom style jorts (the tag said mom, I SWEAR.) They fit like a glove and were on clearance for $11 and without a doubt were the item of clothing I treasured most this year. Everything tucks in nice and tight, my bits are very conservatively covered, and most importantly, my sister HATED them and roasted me the hardest for buying them. Which only made me want to wear them around her even more. Get me a Dodge Caravan and a box of Hamburger Helper because I’m a 90’s mom in these shorts and I’m not afraid to admit it. If the waistline on a pair of jorts doesn’t hit the bottom of my bra from now on, I don’t want it. Say it with me now, LET’S GO GIRLS.
Christmas in NY. There’s a reason so many songs, movies, and books are written about Christmas in NY. It’s MAGIC. I’d never been able to make it to the city during holiday season, mostly because the season lasts about 5 seconds and I’m busy spending all of my money on getting gifts for other people. Also, I was never conveniently adjacent to the big Apple. This year I finally got to see the Rockefeller tree which hailed from good ole Queensbury, I watched light shows and looked and window displays and literally gasped at every block when there was a new tree or decoration to take pictures of. I may not have had anyone to watch Hallmark movies with, but Christmas in NY made up for that in a big way.
Finishing a puzzle. Again a real depends on how you look at the glass moment. Was I sad about not having people to socialize with on the weekends? For sure. But was it also satisfying as hell putting the last piece of the puzzle in as I ripped through a new 500 piecer every weekend? Hell yea.
Hearing Grayson finally learn how to say Jujy. How can you not love a tiny little voice taking attendance of everyone at the dinner table once he’s finally learned how to say all of their names? Since his yappy older sister did all of his negotiating for him, he really didn’t need to learn how to talk as early as she did. So we’ve had a slow simmer waiting for him to learn words and it was music to my dang dong ears when he finally nailed “Jujy.”
Getting buzz lightyear with my sister and taking 100 Snapchat’s with stupid filters. Don’t know how it started or why, but every time my sister and I are tossing back adult bevvies, we’ll open up Snapchat and see what’s cooking in the weird filter department then sit there and fire off 16,000 photos to take them all for a test drive. Slays every time.
Touring the Jersey Shore house solo dolo. Driving down to Seaside I was on a mission to buy a future guido his first Shore Store onesie. I didn’t anticipate being completely overwhelmed in the store and lurking for far too long. Luckily this gave plenty of time to be talked into a private tour of the house from Shore Store Danny’s childhood BFF, who assured me it wasn’t weird to do it by myself and understood the assignment to snap 100 pics of me doing so. $10 well spent. It wasn’t a coincidence that I was wearing my mom jorts, or leopard.
When the children accepted my child (the dog) and stopped being terrified of her. Banner day for me when the sight of my dog didn’t illicit shouts of terror from Mackenzie. Took a solid 5-8 months but we made it to the other side and all of the children get along now (mostly) so looks like we’re going to keep them all.
Seeing whales frolicking in the water off the beach. If you missed it, I paid $90 for the shittiest whale watching experience of my life and I’ll never let anyone forget about it. What I should’ve done was walk the beach every single morning because guess what hangs out at the beach? FREAKING WHALES. Got my peepers on a pack of blubbers just having a grand ole time one October morning in Belmar and what a way to start the day! I turned around to say DID YOU SEE THAT?! And realized no one was near me and I was talking to my dog.
Wall Murals. That’s it. That’s the tweet. I love the shit out of a painted wall and I’ll never stop getting wide-eyed and running toward one for a selfie. Thankfully Asbury Park pops out new ones on the reg, and most cities feature an array of them because the world loves an Insta moment!
Getting Published. After crying from my humor writing class and feeling like I was the charity case of the group, I did manage to get published from a piece I worked on in that class. This made me happy mostly because it’s based on a real running list that I keep in my life. Here’s the satire version that seasoned comedy writers thought was funny. If you want the real version, you’ll have to wait until I croak as my sister has strict instructions to release it at my funeral like it’s the latest edition of Lady Whistledown. I want my funeral to be ABSOLUTE mayhem of people wondering if they’re on the list and finding out as they’re mourning me that I actually hated their stinkin guts for some minor (or major) inconvenience they caused in my life. PS if you’re wondering if you’re dead to me…you probably are.
Flower Hangs with Cin. Tulips, Sunflowers, what have you, if I’m able to appreciate fields of colorful flowers with the woman who taught me to take an abundance of flower pics everywhere you go, it’s gonna be a great time.
Pulling off the Thanksgiving charcutes masterpiece. I felt a lot of pressure to perform when my sister went on and on about her new friend Kim and how she makes the most bangin charcutes boards that look like an influencers and then asked me to step up and create one for Turkey day. I bought all of the bougie meats cheeses nuts and crackers Aldi had to offer and then almost buckled on the day when I realized I’d be happy as a clam to shove salami into my salami hole straight from the package and didn’t know a thing about presentation. BUT TEAM WORK MAKES THE DREAM WORK. Gotta love cousin Ray Ray, Aunt Wendy & my sister for all stepping up in the time of need and accomplishing this beaut. The men were not allowed in the room as we tinkered with placement and barked at them to keep their hands away until we’d properly photographed it. Honestly we made everyone terrified to even eat off of this board and that’s the sign of a true success.
Going back and forth with a Facebook cr33p bartering a price for my feet pics. Facebook taketh and Facebook giveth away. I should’ve known I’d be scammed for Taylor Swift tickets after taking such pure delight in an exchange about selling feet pics after I posted a pair of wedges for sale. I posted the breakdown at the very end of my One Year As the Jersey Ju blog, so I won’t repeat content. But I did really love dabbling in the foot game and even went so far as to consider joining Feet Finder as a supplemental income. Mostly because I want to live at the beach and that shit ain’t cheap, yo.
Going to more comedy shows. Wanna know what combats the sads? Going to see professionals who have made their sads into hilarious jokes. I love standup comedy and I was able to see a handful of shows this year, including a local basement show that I took my mom to where we got called on and both immediately tried to burrow into the ground to make the attention go away AND a preview of someone’s taped special in a Vegan bakery with an *intimate* crowd. I’m basically Lorne Michaels now.
Charlee acting like the mayor of the beach, visiting with everyone, shaking hands and kissing babies. May we end on the greatest joy and source of laughter and smiles in my 31st year. My perfect angel baby pup. My first month with her was such a tear-filled nightmare and I specifically remember telling my therapist, “I adopted a dog to enhance my life and she’s currently making it worse.” Sorry, Charlee. Thankfully she only wreaked havoc for a month to make sure I was really going to keep her. And boy am I glad I did. She’s the most social butterfly I’ve ever known and the beach has become her favorite place to greet the masses. We can’t walk the boardwalk without people stopping to tell her she’s like, really pretty, and at the end of our visit to the dog beach people know her by name and are offering to dogsit her if I ever need it. There’s a reason that homeless drifter wanted to keep her around and I bet she’d make a killing for me if I ever decided to panhandle. Obviously I’d never stoop that low if I needed quick cash, I’d just hit up Facebook marketplace with some well-lit shots of my tootsies. But anyway, back to my dog (not to be confused with my dogs), she’s a ray of sunshine that has connected me to so many people this year and I don’t know what I’d do without her.
My therapist told me this idea was good so now that Iโve gotten approvalโฆWhy we waiting until someone dies to share all of the great stories we have of them? Every year, on someoneโs birthday, letโs share our fave stories about them so they can hear how awesome they are.
For anyone who has gotten a lengthy birthday text from me slobbering them with compliments and how lucky I am to have them in my life, you can blame Bob Saget dying unexpectedly and EVERYONE saying what an amazing and great guy he is and how he always told people what they meant to him and how much he loved them. WE NEED MORE BOB SAGETS IN THE WORLD. We also need to stop waiting until people die to tell all these great stories about them. So henceforth, I’ve declared the birthday rule. Make people feel special and loved on their day of birth, not their day of death when they’re already a ghost and can’t talk back. Kthxbye.
The Salty Ju 