You’re never too old to care what your mom thinks.
But I like it.
Category Archives: ouch!
My mom is going to kill me.
Filed under a change will do you good, confessions, ouch!
The meanest prank ever
When I was 18, before I knew you shouldn’t do things like this to boys, I sent my then-boyfriend an email that went something like this:
Dear ****,
I’m writing to tell you that I just can’t do this anymore. I really care about you, but I don’t feel like this is the right thing. I’ve been going over and over it in my head, and I can’t get peace about it. It’s not you; it’s me. I’m sorry. The past 4 months have been great. I hope we can always be friends.
Love,
Faith
Five minutes later, I sent this:
APRIL FOOL’S!
I don’t know why Simon says McDuffie girls are ruthless. Do you, Cat?
By the way, if that had been a legit breakup, instead of the one that happened two years later, it would’ve saved a lot of people a lot of heartache. Ah, well…
Filed under confessions, family, ouch!
The Winter of My Discontent
Confession time: sometimes lurking on facebook serves to make me jealous of the people I stalk. I tell myself I’m just keeping up with friends, but in truth, I’m coveting:
- my old roommate’s photography skills.
- a college acquaintance’s glamorous life in Hot-lanta – not to mention her perfect facial features.
- an English friend’s tiny frame, and the wardrobe that dresses it.
- a friend-of-a-friend’s two gorgeous children – and the way she’s managed to maintain her figure, her style, and her artistic lifestyle.
- a childhood playmate’s job as the lead singer in a band.
I’m a master at thinking up excuses for checking my facebook 3 million times a day – I might have an important message, I need to upload some photos – but I’m there to stalk, and to seethe over your good fortune. I’m there to see just how many miles I need to run/clothes I need to buy/pictures of my house I need to take to keep up with the Joneses.
Filed under confessions, dreams and realities, ouch!
girl, shoot.
A friend at work was telling me about dontdatehimgirl.com yesterday. It’s a Web site where women can post profiles of men they’ve had bad dating experiences with, and my friend had apparently gone out with a guy before discovering on the site that he was married with 3 kids, and had lied about being a former football player and lawyer. Thankfully, she only went out with him once, but myyy goodness.
Have you ever dated someone who lied to you about their house? Their job? Their car? Their marital status(ack!)?
how much does it cost?
Riches I heed not, nor man’s empty praise,
Thou mine Inheritance, now and always…
Never have I felt so tempted, so swayed by money. I don’t know what to blame it on: London? Being 25? Being married? London?
There is something to the argument that living here pounds it into you. House prices are ludicrous (and I mean ludicrous). Our tiny, one-bedroom flat would probably go for at least £160k(we rent). That’s over $300,000. That’s almost as much as my parents’ 4-bedroom, 2.5 bath, original-hardwood-floors-and-French-doors-circa-1920 house on 6-acres was selling for a year ago.
Our flat would fit in their kitchen.
I love England. Our friends are amazing. Autumn here is idyllic. Topshop rocks my world. Fashion is exciting, music is happening, arts are cutting-edge. But there’s something mean about this place. I’ve never been somewhere where people talk about money/house prices/the cost of living on such a regular basis. I’m telling you almost every day I have a discussion with people about it.
Part of this may be because I grew up in a small town where things were, well, cheap. So maybe it’s not just London. Maybe it’s cities. But it hurts. It stresses me out, sucks my will to live.
And it makes me scan the newspaper for jobs paying over £25,000 – ruling out anything less.
Riches I heed not, nor man’s empty praise,
Thou mine Inheritance, now and always:
Thou and Thou only, first in my heart,
High King of Heaven, my Treasure Thou art.
