A Xanax, a pep talk and finding my big girl panties…

Bailey,

Are you alive?

I thought you should know that yesterday I had a nervous break down of quite epic proportions. You see, it was my last day of finals and my professors graciously made everything due on the same day. At the beginning of the semester, everything seemed completely manageable… three projects? No problem! Complete web design? Bring. It. On. Research paper? In my sleep. You want a presentation? I’ll show you a presentation.

And then came the procrastination (as it always does) and I did nothing for the entire semester and found myself with 48 hours to finish everything to meet my five o’clock deadline (presentation and final) and midnight deadline (assignments and papers). I took most of Monday dicking around on facebook, re-starting this blog and doing *one* assignment. Whatever. I still had Tuesday and everything would be fine.

Note: For my personal use, I choose to use a mac (the computer of the gods). For work, I’m forced to use a PC (the computer of my dad who used ¬†“Steve Jobs is arrogant.” as his reasoning for not getting a mac, but that’s another story).

Anywho. I had to do a project in Captivate and it just so happens my PC has that software and my Mac does not.

Note: I could throw my mac out of a window into a pool and I wouldn’t lose a damn thing. If I look at my PC the wrong way, it shuts down.

I finished my one project of the day (which only took about four hours of total work time) and decided it was time to give my eyes a break from the computer and watch Conan. Just when I settled in to a comfy little monologue I hear the sound of my PC laptop CLOSING. WHAT?! THE?! #$%^?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?! Algebra closed my laptop (something about saving energy?!) and thereby erased all the work I had done. Of course then my stress and PMS kicked in and we got into a fight of epic proportions because I was being crazy and loud and mean (you know those fights where you’re right, he’s wrong, the relationship is fa sho over and hell no we’re not going to sleep because we’re going to stay up and yell).

This is pretty much what the breakdown looked like if I were Paris Hilton. Or, this is what Paris looks like when she attempts using a computer. You decide.

Tuesday rolled around, we were still pissed at each other, he went to work and I sat and cried in front of my computer screen. I outsourced part of my homework assignment to Bianca and told her about my break down. I told her I needed help, I couldn’t breathe, the world was crumbling and without an intervention I might “get back into bed and never graduate.”

Here is Bianca’s pep talk:

Ok. Come off the ledge, my friend. The beauty of a committed relationship is that you can be crazy and/or mean and are automatically forgiven. This time tomorrow you will have forgotten how stressed out you were! If he doesn’t know that you get irrationally angry when under deadline and pmsing, well then he just hasn’t been paying attention and that’s his fault. ūüėČ I’m sure he does his annoying, irrational shit too. It’s a part of life.
Like the obese woman down the hall from me just said about her new enema weight loss diet that is making her irritable (bowel joke), This too shall pass (also a bowel joke). You will finish all of your work, pass your classes with flying colors, and Algebra is going to love you forever. No matter how annoyed with him you may get.
And as Papa Vanderstappen always says, these are quality problems. You are stressed about grad school, but you are lucky to have the opportunity for higher education. You are stressed about Algebra, but lucky to have somebody to fight with. So voila! Off. Ledge.

And just like that, I put on mascara, a sun dress and my big girl panties and marched out the door to give my final presentation (with only minor eye puffiness from all the crying). The pep talk was just what I needed and Bianca’s part of my homework assignment turned out great, too.

Or perhaps it was the Xanax I took 30 minutes prior… either way, it worked.

Hugs, kisses and date night,
Bridget (and Algebra Forever)

Bianca,
I really couldn’t have survived yesterday without you and your pep talk (bowel jokes included). You saved my ass (bowel joke?). I really appreciate it.
Bridget

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Prius Envy Returns (Sorry for being Slack-Asses)

Reasons why we have been total slackers:
РBizarrely cloudless summer = no time for inside activities. i.e. blogging.
– Toddlers and Tiaras marathon
– Rolling Blackouts
– Dancing on stage with Katy Perry
– Sleeping in is tiring.
– Balancing Margarita Monday and Tequila Tuesday (or was that Thursday?)
– DVR trumps Blog on hungover mornings. – TV plays itself, Blog does not write itself.
– Dream job hunting is very time consuming. Have yet to hear¬†back from E! to be Seacrest’s co-anchor; or from Conde Nast to be it’s exotic island critic; or from Sauza to be it’s margarita taster… but am still waiting diligently by phone.
– Laziness and a general sense of writers block.
Update on Bianca’s life:
Had the opportunity to take a sh*tty job for sh*tty pay in hot-as-balls Arizona for a real sh*t eating jerk of a boss or take a hefty severance package. Turned down the incredible opportunity I was on the fence about to take the severance… yet still very much employed.¬†Preston is making a 1-year plan while I’m learning different feet-dragging tactics. Divorced parents are both single for the first time in 10 years and¬†considering another run at it. Traveling a lot to escape all of the above¬†yet¬†still¬†very much enjoying¬†the ride. Summer rules. Winter droools. Y’all are fools.
Update on Bridget’s life:
Summer break has been kicking ass by totally not kicking ass of any kind. I’ve done practically nothing. I mean, trips here and there, the whole wedding thing is planned and I’m almost finished with my third to last semester of grad school, but really, lots of sleeping. Naps have been my past time. I sleep in bed, by the pool, in the pool, on the lawn and definitely in front of the television. Biggest accomplishment: I finished some great (non school related) books and two seasons Dexter. Who’s winning now, Charlie Sheen? Oh. And I lost 8 (glorious) pounds (gaining them back as I type, even though I’m currently doing Bianca’s Magical Cleanse) and bought THE Wedding Dress.

Zzzzzz.....

Update on Bailey’s life:
No update because Bailey is still enjoying the most epic summer of all time that we’re all jealous of… Bailey… when you read this, send word, text, email or pigeon that you’re okay and still having an awesome time.
Readers: If you’re still out there. Sorry for sucking so hard at emailing. We promise to be better as summer gives way to fall. Forgive us?
Much-o Love-o,
The Girls with Prius Envy

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Biancas of the Caribbean

Happy Holiday Weekend!

I am headed to the Caribbean tomorrow on a fabulous seven-day cruise with Preston and his family. My highly-organized overly-excited self has already planned out every hour of every day which makes me worry that Preston might actually throw me overboard. You could say that the two of us travel differently. It’s not a bad thing, in fact it might even be good for us to balance each other out, but if one of us was in charge of the entire vacation, blood would be shed. I’m just sayin’.

I like to be moving and to see different sights throughout the day while Preston wants to kick back, relax and enjoy the sunshine on a beach chair (and 4, 5 or 6 tequila’s). I can lay out with the best of them, but we are going to be on a floating city! There is a salsa dancing club, wine tasting, islands with exotic sea life… How can you chill in a beach chair when you know you are missing all of those awesome things?

Ironically, in life we are the other way around. I am the laid back no worries gal while Preston is anal retentive and ‘planny’ (I don’t know how else to describe it). Helping him pack his suitcase was like *insert frustratng¬†situation*¬†with Larry David.

I can empathize with his vacation style if I channel childhood Bianca. Papa¬†Vanderstappen has always taken us on some pretty epic vacations, but his travel ADD is worse than mine by a million. I’ve never even seen him lay, sit, look at a beach chair. He’s the only man in the world who WILL see every sight from the guide books and then some. His adventures were awesome – cliff jumping, caves, boating, rock climbing, but it’s non stop. I remember being a kid and being so over reading about historical sites. Oh this is where Ernest Hemingway’s ashes were scattered? Who the f*ck is Ernest Hemingway, Dad? (I had a sassy mouth on me as a kid). It was the same sentiment I had for Animal Farm at the time, I just don’t understand this shit.

Now that I’m older and wiser and that whole apple & tree thing has proven true, I love the historical shit (and Ernest Hemingway (but definitely not Animal Farm)) but can see why not everybody does. I can see where Preston is coming from. Sometimes you just want to do what you want to do, and if that means drinking $15 daquiris while watching pre-recorded basketball games, I’m not going to¬†interfere.

In a surprising twist, Papa¬†Vanderstappen recommend¬†I embrace the relaxing travel style of Preston and family since I have never experienced it; suggesting that I might actually enjoy relaxing poolside. While unlikely, it’s not impossible. I’ll keep you posted.

Regardless of how my vacation is spent, it’s going to be incredible and I can’t wait! You can’t go wrong with sunshine, beaches and margs.

Bailey, I wish you the best at the wedding from hell and Bridget, hold down the fort.

Still amazed the state of CA thinks 7th Graders will understand the connection between Animal Farm and pre-Stalin era WWII,
-Bianca

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Recovered Memory Tuesday

Greetings from the hazy myst surrounding me today, ladies!

I feel like I’m in an episode of the Twilight Zone. It’s not mystery that I have the worlds worst memory. Short term? Long term? You name it, I can’t remember it. I blame all the brain cells I killed off in college, but maybe it’s because of all the migraines I get or potentially being dropped as an infant (or as a cheerleader). In any event, sometimes I go back and read our emails and laugh hysterically at something that I totally forgot reading – and I’ll get to the bottom – and I wrote it. Yikes. At least I amuse myself.

Anyway. Today, I’m having flashbacks left and right. Literally, I feel like maybe my past self took LSD, present self forgot about it and now I’m having all these memories I didn’t know were in there.

I’ll only bother you with the two most amusing recovered instances.

Recovered Memory #1
Getting In BIG Trouble in Junior High for Ordering Pizza
Possibly spurred by: Having Pizza Delivered for a Meeting Today

In junior high my besties and I did everything possible to make the lives of the faculty and staff more difficult (as do all junior high students which is why I will never step foot in those God forsaken places – I’ll stay right here in fourth grade, thank you). We’d make preemptive calls home before {insert administrator here} could reach our parents telling them exactly what they should say to the (vice) principal, we’d meander off school grounds up to the high school whenever possible and bring to light every “injustice” our little 13 year old brains saw.

Our favorite form of debauchery was lunch. When we weren’t eating Twix and a Mountain Dew for lunch (Dear Junior High Metabolism, I miss you. Love, Bridget), we were “ordering” food from someone’s mom, dad or older brother. And here’s the best part: They’d actually bring it. I remember my parents once showing up in the front circle of the junior high with 12 Happy Meals.

Well. Since this worked so easily, I figured, “Hell. I bet I can order a pizza, give the driver specific instructions to meet me in the front circle and pull this off no problem.” (Our moms must have been “working” this day and unable to bring us fast food.) Needless to say, my plan didn’t work out and the delivery dude went in to the office, my vice principal had to pay for the pizza and my ass got in big trouble. I still can’t figure out exactly why. I had the money to pay him back… But no, he insisted it was HIS pizza now and that I should hand over my cell phone (YA RIGHT – I told him I ordered it from AOL Messenger in the computer lab.) HA. Scary side note: I find myself doing stuff like this to my students. “Mine now.” “Because I said.” “Hand over thy cell phone, sneaky texter.” 13 year old me would hate 25 year old teacher me.

Recovered Memory #2
Kissing Dr. Douche
Possibly spurred by: Dr. Douche Asking Another DW on a Date

First of all I’d like to start this out by saying: DR. DOUCHE IS NOT ACTUALLY A DOCTOR. He’s a physical therapist. Yes, there is a difference. My pilates instructor also has her doctorate in physical therapy, but I don’t call her Dr. Pilates Instructor. I mean, have you ever seen Dr. So and So for physical therapy? No. You see First Name Last Name, special physical therapy initials after.

Yep, you are.

Anyway. Dr. Douche was the worst first date of my WHOLE ENTIRE LIFE. Ya know what? I’m not even going to qualify that: Dr. Douche was the worst date of my WHOLE ENTIRE LIFE. He picked me up in his VW Cabriolet Convertible (I know, I shouldn’t be a car snob, but let’s just say, it was no Prius) and then we went out to a seemingly normal dinner. I had DWAsian “on call” as I usually would for first dates, even though I never had to use her. Until then.

After our dinner he started to plan a post date activity. Meh. I was having a “good enough” time, sure, I’d go see a movie with this dude. And then, he suggests hitting up the liquor store so we could “take pulls” during the movie. (Note: I’m all for taking something special into movies with my girls, but on a first date?! And when your THIRTY SOMETHING ass is supposed to be driving me home? No. Thank. You.) I quickly made up an excuse about how I “promised” to hang out with DWAsian after our dinner date and I’d really hate to be a bad friend and ditch out on her. Talk about Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, he snapped and went ballistic. Got angry, drove me all the way home in silence and then as I got out of his car yelled, “Ya. Nice date. Looks like you just wanted a free dinner.” And flew off. Jerk. Off.

I later found out that was third date in a row that ended before 7 o’clock. I wonder why? Him being so charming and all.

Here’s the recovered memory part: The weekend before, I was super blitzed at Gracie’s and I totally kissed him. Ew. Thus, the first date of impending doom.

It’s still early, ladies. Who knows what else I’ll come up with since my memory is working so well today! Hurry, tell me something important and I might not forget it!

Your very own time machine,
Bridget

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Wahhhhh! What’s wrong with me?!

Hey girls and happy fridizzle,

So, as you know, I’ve recently switched forms of birth control. I went from an IUD (which I loved and adored and never thought about) to The Pill. I haven’t really noticed a difference (now that I’m used to taking the blasted thing every day), but ever since I started taking The Pill, the WORLD HAS TURNED AGAINST ME. Yes, that’s right. The world. Everyone hates me. Algebra is constantly trying to hurt my feelings. I have no friends. I’m fat. My life sucks.

Wait a second… could this weepy, sensitive subhuman I’ve turned into be because of a new substance I’m putting into my body? I’ve been like this for approximately 8 weeks. I’ve been taking The Pill approximately 8 weeks. Coincidence? I think not. But until my gyno and I can arrange a time to meet up, I’m stuck with this blasted thing.

At least I’m aware of it now so I can try and control psycho self.

In case you were wondering, here’s a list of things that I’ve cried over since this blasted thing has taken over my soul:
-Spilled milk (swear to God)
-Sylvan commercials
-My friends being nice to me
-A Fiona Apple song (Paper Bag – so awesome, but tears, really?!)
-Algebra asking why I was being sensitive
-Being called a racist (this one is warranted, right?)
-One of my students being suspended (I won’t get to see him again this year :-()
-A Maya Angelou Poem
-My internet not working
-Rewriting my resume
-A polynesian dance assembly

Seriously? I need an appointment with my gyno or a therapist stat. In other devastating news (actually this time), my childhood dog might have some sort of crazy heart problem (at least it’s not cancer like we thought). Maybe I can cover all my silly tears with actual tears on this one (even if I am crying because I can’t find a matching shoe).

WAHHHHHHHHH,
Bridget

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Weight, Weight… Don’t Tell Me

Good morning, ladies!
 
I would like to start off by apologizing for my lack of communication this past month. I was out of town 3 out of the 4 weekends in April and finally have my routine back on track (perfect timing considering I’m going on another week-long vacation in 10 days). I haven’t even been home long enough to report any news! (Except that Bin Laden was killed… In case you hadn’t heard that yet.)
 
What I have noticed in the short time I’ve been home, however, is how this time of year always brings out the crazy in our friends. With swimsuit season around the corner we have girls on 800 calorie-per-day diets, no carb diets, even ‘detoxing body wraps’ all in an effort to look hot in a swimsuit. The sad part is that none of us are fat. Not even close. And screwing with the natrual process of eating like a normal person and digesting like a normal person has made every one of the DramaWhores a completely irrational psycho.¬†
 
QDW was cheated on by her idiot boyfriend who also told her she was stupid. Well guess what, he’s bald and bi-polar and not even close to good enough for her. But because she is literally lacking the energy and calories needed to make a decision like egging his car and bashing him on the internet, she continues the rollercoaster ride that is her nightmare of a relationship. But hey, her arms look skinny and that’s all that matters.¬†
 
The Asian is having a complete quarter-life crisis. She’s in love with a guy¬†she used to date who broke her heart who now has a serious girlfriend. She can’t figure out why it’s not working.¬†Her diet is of the self-loathing variety consisting of Weinerschnitzel corn dogs and ice cream. It’s a vicious cycle.¬†
 
The Amazon is 6 feet tall and weighs 140 lbs. Her body is beautiful, but she thinks she’s fat. I’m pretty sure she suffers from that thing we learned about in 8th grade where she looks in the mirror and sees a fat person even though she is a ridiculously skinny person. She’s a blonde Kenyan.
 
Bailey, you are one of those rare people who have a healthy body image. I usually give the credit to the mom’s, but this time I’m going to give it to you because your mom and my mom were raised by the same woman and I have heard all three of them say the following: “Have you tried the cabbage soup diet?”, and “How’s your weight?”, and “You should go to the gym instead of watching Hoarders”.¬†
 
I would say that I also fall under that healthy body image category but I would be lying. I’m not as crazy as the DramaWhores but I’ve tried my share of diets, detoxes and boot camp. I’d mention what I was up to right now but I’d rather save myself the effort of scanning my GNC recipt.¬†
 
Bridget, you are a woman on a mission trying to get to “wedding dress weight”, and while I think you (and all other brides) are crazy, I understand. So I’m going to look away while you diet your way down the aisle.
 
The list of crazy goes on but if I told you all of it this would be a sad, sad novel. I want to shake our friends (us) sometimes and have them look in the reality mirror. They are all beautiful, intelligent and accomplished women who have everything going for them. What their butts look like in a string bikini has no bearing on their worth. And as fas as the single ones are concerned, if they are meeting guys who are only interested in their butts, they have bigger problems.
 
Anyway…In a month from today we’re headed to Vegas! I’m thinking I’ll try the no-carb, no-dairy, master cleanse cookie 200-cal/day HCG, fruit and veggie Kim Kardashian Sensa…

-Bianca

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Plus none.

Dearest Bridget and Bianca,

Wow if email was the only way we kept in touch I wouldn’t even know you anymore. My apologies. I don’t even feel like I’m that busy but I guess between birthdays (mine), graduations, work, getting drunk, etc – I don’t know where the month of April and half of May went!

First and foremost, Bridget CONGRATS!!! I mean I couldn’t be happier for you and Algebra. It feels right – I mean really really right. Bianca, you aren’t allowed to get married/engaged in 2011 – ok? Thanks for understanding.

Well ladies while you have been in your committed relationships with mature men, I have been exploring Salt Lake City’s finest immature post-grads, 23 to 25. I get older,¬†and it seems that the guys that I date don’t get any older, wiser, hotter but stay the same. I have been consistently disheartened by males in the past few months – whether it be puking in my room, saying ridiculous things that I just can’t handle or just deciding their presence is too much to handle. I am going on hiatus. Friday at the bar I was being stalked by (literally) an attractive, east coast preppy boy with a great job and loves sailing who then turned out to be ADHD, non-stop texting me, sitting on my lap and all over me at the bar last night, etc…I mean…dammit. I swear it’s like he had 2 beers and became a different person. I mean I’m an open minded person, I get drunk, like to have fun, etc but why can’t there be a balance here!? Deep down am I asking for this and bringing it upon myself in some way?

 No need for a +1 at any of the 5 weddings I have this summer (literally. 5.),

Bailey

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