The case of the exceptionista.

Everyone has that friend who thinks they are the exception & if you don’t, you are probably her. The girl who pouts if it is their turn to be designated driver, the girl who has to dictate the night’s festivities, otherwise they will get drunk & cause a scene & the girl who freaks out if the group grabs dinner without her. However, she cannot understand why other’s get upset when this happens to them.  I will call this girl the exceptionista. The exceptionista is the breed of human who holds social reign, dictating, but making herself immune to the restrictions she has set for everyone else; AKA the exception. Physical characteristics normally consist of attractive facial features with a subtle pout & a permanent expression of self-admiration. A great example of this person would be Regina George in “Mean Girls”. Tina Fey obviously has taken time to study this “kind” seeing as she executed the character flawlessly in her astute screenplay. (If you do not know this movie, please rent it ASAP.

This anomaly is one that we all fall victim to. We normally fail to see the authoritarianism until the said dictator does something to really piss us off, or if a third party shows you the light, (highly unlikely to be effective).  The reason for our ignorance toward someone so self-involved & dense about any form of empathy is because we are naturally drawn to being around attractive people. As much as we want to fight it, we let these exceptionistas get their way because we do not want to disturb the delicate ecosystem in which the attractive & dramatic cohabitate with us. It is sad because it really is like an abusive relationship. The worse they treat us, the more we want them to like us (another fabulous thought from the writing genius of Tina Fey).

With all of this being said, we are the reinforcers. No one could hold up such an arrogant existence if they had their ego bruised; even once would bring it down a notch. It is these girls who have been molded by the insistent hands we possess. If their parents were to have told them “no” when they were younger, or if girls didn’t fawn over every move they made, or if boys didn’t chase them around the playground in a juvenile form of flattery, they would have a normal prospective of social conduct, like you & me. They would be happy to take their turn of being sober behind the wheel, they would be flexible toward the night’s plans & they would understand that they do not need to be involved in every little activity the group does. So, while we are the gum on the bottom of their shoe that just won’t quit, they are the person who knows nothing other than reaping the benefits society is all too ready to give.

It is a delicate ecosystem & not one that can be tampered with aggressively. I am not suggesting there be a war on the pedestaled. I am just suggesting that we confront our oblivion & put the exceptionistas in their place when need be; otherwise, we will forever oblige & accommodate them in efforts to avoid ostracism. We should try to make the relationship among girls friends that of a democracy & regain our dignity we have so flippantly put aside. Nay to you, Exceptionista. You are one of us & nothing more. 

Yours,

DB

An ostentatious word show.

I am sorry to say ladies, as much as we don’t want to admit that the efforts of our bra burning, sexually liberating ancestors was all in vain, it is true. That thing you rely on to get an extra free drink at the bar is in fact what your grandmother wore in college when she was trying to get her MRS. I am talking about the girdle. The wizards of rebranding have conned us again with their oh-so cunning thesaurus.  Instead of calling Spanx what they really are, they are marketed as body shapers & slimming intimates. Not only are Spanx girdles; they are the equivalent of Kleenex & tissue; while Spanx is a brand it is used as the official name for modern day girdle. Spanx is not some innovative, new product; they just threw a kicky name & fancy wording to veil the uncomfortable & outdated.

To go against the norm, I tried wearing a girdle called Yummy Tummy. It fit well & it brought me in that half inch I have been trying to get rid of by dieting on wine & cheese for the past year. However, a half-hour into the night I could not take it anymore. When I tried to shake my booty, nothing happen. I just looked like I was trying to de-wedgie myself by moving my hips rapidly from side to side.  Where was the sass in my step? How come when I dropped it, it wasn’t like it was hot? I’ll tell you why; my awesomeness was trapped in my girdle. Oh sorry, I mean trapped in my Spanx. Oh shoot, I mean in my Yummy Tummy. It wasn't comfortable or liberating & part of the reason why my dancing looked like I was try to work out a wedgie was because I was. After receiving one last free drink from the guy whose only game is buying alcohol, I ran to the bathroom, peeled off the Godforsaken sole sucker & popped it into my clutch… It has never been heard from again.

The power of rebranding has lead to the rejuvenation of products that were once thrown out with the rest of societies trash. The automotive victor of the old made new movement is Cadillac. For those of you who are not in the know, Cadillac use to target people like your Grandfather. Now they have tag lines like “When you turn your car on, does it return the favor?” & their Escalade makes a monthly appearance on Law & Order SVU as the car the hip-hop artist used when they did their "gangster transactions". I don’t think your grandfather wants much to do with that.

While we feel that we are immune to the manipulation of the advertising world, it is only an unavailing notion. We want to think we don’t fall for the vocabulary tango of the marketing industry who makes or breaks the standard of cool in our culture. However, more likely than not, the product you think is new & fresh is just a recycled, tired idea that has been pimped out with thin models & a catchy jingle. So I salute you, pimps of the already done. You make millions while we fawn upon your already lit wick. We are at the mercy of your ostentatious word show. Now lets all go eat at McDonalds because their commercials say their food is healthy... Oh.

Yours,

DB

The coupled, the unconventional & the single.

Hello World. I am 22 & engaged. Pause for reaction. The transition between how being young & married was viewed in the 50's & how it is viewed today is the equivalent of a sociological lobotomy. Why does anyone feel it is their prerogative to tell me that they do not think I am making a good decision, especially a random woman at the grocery store. "Oh, wow. You are so young. Are you sure that you are ready" (insert the "I said something really profound, so I am going to look sympathetic because I just turned this girl's world upside down" head tilt here). No, I'm not sure I'm ready. That is why I said yes when my fiancée proposed, why I am wearing my engagement ring & why I have been making wedding plans for the past 3 months. Thank you for your completely inappropriate & invasive interrogation of my life.

The young & committed are not the only victims of the opinionated & completely out of line. It is even worse for the couple who does not want to get married or to have children. I have a few people in my life who are taking this route & it is brutal to watch the social turmoil they have to go through; explaining & justifying to the curious & judgmental why they have agreed on this "unnatural" way of life. It is my belief that these couples should just wear a shirt that says "I do not want to get married & I worship the Devil", so they can watch people squirm with the internal battle of wanting to ask about the lack of matrimonial desire, but not wanting to speak to the blatantly possessed. Why is it anyone's business if a couple doesn't want to follow in the Cleaver's footsteps? It use to be people would have kids so they would have hands on the farm & someone to care for them when they are the ones in diapers. Now, having kids is a lifestyle, not a necessity seeing as most people don't own a farm & there are fabulous retirement homes with names like "Paradise Cove" & "Prestigious Falls".  Hail to the unconventional! Enjoy the excess of money you have because you do not have to spend it on diapers!

Finally, the classic, why are you single? I am not at the age where my friends are really being berated with the subject yet, but media has given me the insight I need to put together this point with some accuracy. Thanks to Bridget Jones Diary & Sex & the City, it is my understanding that everyone who is single is sad & lost. Wait. So even if someone has a fulfilling career with fabulous friends & the freedom to bonk whomever they please, they are still a pathetic little pet who needs to find that one person to make them whole. Huh. Thanks for the insight. I was under the silly notion that one of the biggest challenges for committed couples is they miss not having an anchor, they miss being the sole captain of their space shuttle (I thought sole captain of their ship was too cliché & over used. Lets see if space shuttle catches on.) I know at some point in my marriage I am going to envy the single girl who gets gang banged on the dance floor, not because I don't like being married, but because that hot mess will remind me of a part of my life I will never get back. Single people, the next time you are at a wedding & asked when it is your turn, please respond with "Gosh, I don't know. I still haven't decided if I like girls or boys yet."

The dating world is no longer one of black & white, single & married. People make their own choices based on their best judgment. The committed, like myself, find comfort in vows & babies, while the unconventional would not touch what tickles me pink with a 10 foot pole, & although the single person may want someone in the future, for now, they are enjoying the rip tide called Life. Contrary to popular belief, people are pretty acquainted with themselves & know what lifestyle fits them best. Shockingly, the nosey, overbearing "life guru" does not. So if you are said guru, my message to you is while you think that everyone wants your input on their personal lives, they really do not (insert the sympathetic "sorry you thought otherwise, asshole" head tilt).

Your,
DB

Paws & Claws.

Why is the question “are you a cat person or a dog person” so revealing? I believe that finding out someone’s fluffy friend preference is more intimate than reading their diary. So much can be told by that one syllable response. Without fail, depending on which party you are faithful to, you will make the snap decision do you love them or hate them. This is such a simple topic with such a loaded gun. I am going to break down why this is such a telling tail (Sorry, I had to.) & why we judge automatically, & most of the time, accurately.

First, let’s look at the stereotypical cat person. They are people who lead more mellow lives. They do not like to be disturbed & are set in their ways. You will find that they have their things & they would prefer to not share. While some cat people may not like me saying this, they are the high maintenance crowd of the two parties. Cat people are more sensitive to their surroundings, so they need a buddy who will be there if they want to snuggle, but when they are done, c’est fini. This is why the independent, low maintenance feline is perfect for this kind of person. Hell, most of the time the cat is just as particular about when they can be disturbed as their owner, making them a match made in heaven; the high maintenance owner seems low maintenance to the high maintenance cat & the high maintenance cat appears low maintenance to the high maintenance owner. It is a win-win relationship. I admire cat people for having the strength to know what they like & they stick to their guns. I say bravo to you cat people.

With that being said, I am a dog person. When comparing the cat owner to the dog owner, well it is like comparing cats & dogs. They are spontaneous, messy & go with the flow. When they get a big wet kiss from their energetic pup, they normally respond with something like “Thanks for the smooch pooch!” & if they get a sneak attack of leaps & licks the bond between man & dog only becomes more solidified. Now that I have had my beagle, Hank, for the three months, I can say first hand that a dog is high maintenance requiring the owner to be low maintenance, & unlike the relationship between cat & owner the favor is not returned. I have had to change my entire routine to accommodate Hank’s needs. Instead of sleeping in, I usually get up at 7 to the sound of Hank’s wagging tail on the carpet. Before I can make myself presentable to the outside world, I am being dragged out the door so he can do his “business”, AKA poop. While cat people stick to their guns, dog people have to be more flexible. With this being said, we feel that this is a minor sacrifice for our little buddies because when we want to go on a walk or when we need a friend, our dogs are first to step up to the task. I believe it is actually embedded into “our kind’s” DNA to crave the chaos & the never-ending show of the wagging tail. We just cannot get enough.

Before you think this is an observation limited to admirers of the Meows & Woofs, there is one more party that I will call the Yappers. It is the secret third party that will give a whole new perspective on the battle between the feline & canine lover, the small dog owner. I am not talking small as in a French bulldog or dachshund, I mean Pomeranian, “Tinker Bell” Chihuahua dog type. This kind of pet owner is a mutated hybrid between the cat person & dog person, or a dog person who is a hop & a skip away from being a cat person, if you will. They are the people who want to have someone always around to make them feel loved, but don’t want the slobber & inconvenience. Physical signs of these people are Ed Hardy shirts, super buff guys (limited to their upper body) or super skinny girls, Paris Hilton perfume & a $30,000 millionaire car like a Nissan 370Z Coup. When they walk their dog, they go to all extremes to ensure that their prince/princess is not “bothered” by someone else’s dog whom is obviously not worthy enough to exchange butt smells with their precious child. If their dog starts yapping at your dog, they look at you like your dog is out of line.

Now, I tell you cat & dog people alike, it is this small dog party that is the real enemy. We should stop dismissing each other & focus on the black horse candidate of the race, the Yappers. They are the one’s who are disturbing society’s happy balance between the hard standing & the easy going. While their dogs are precious, although at tad bitchy, it is them that we should be wary of; the middle of the road, confused souls who think that their dog is more than a dog & that they are more than mere human.

Yours,

DB

PS. I have nothing against the small dog breeds, I find them precious. It is just their misfortune that they attract such peculiar owners.

The hipster & the prep.

Everyone knows that Vineyard Vines is one of the most shamelessly preppy labels out there, & I love it. What I do not love is when someone comes along in their American Apparel hoodie and Doc Marten boots to tell me that I am "too much". So what if I like to have a pink whale on my zip up? I think that it is just fabulous. It felt quite unfair, seeing as I like the Doc Marten look, however, I know I would never be able to pull it off. So what is the deal?

Living in San Diego & Austin for the second half of my life, I have come to know & admire the hipsters. They have an arrogance & pedestaled perception of themselves that I would never be able to carry & I am not saying this in a patronizing manner. They wear clothes that hug all of their curves that I have fought my entire adolescence, they listen to hip rap & techno that I will never understand & they have managed to take the all-American prep look & turned it into a warped version of 60's Greenwich, CT & grunge Los Angles, CA circa 90's. Their ability to look so individual while dressing the same is an epidemic that I cannot understand, but I respect. There has not been a movement like this since Madonna decided to simulate masturbation on stage, then suddenly everyone was  liberated sexually.

 It is times like this when you really have to sit back & recognize when something special is happening. What people do not realize is that majority of the hipster style is either the prep style sized down or sized up. Ironically, the "prep" is exactly the opposite of what hipsters are trying to emulate... Or maybe they are just trying to be ironic (however, I feel that this particular witty hipster is about 10%  of the population as a whole). Think about it... They wear Ray-Bans (or a cheaper version with the same style in mind), their staple shoe is Oxfords, they either wear a crop top or a collared button up. Hell, American Apparel gave the impression that they were revolutionizing hair accessories with the over-sized bow, when preps have been sticking that shit in their hair since they could say "polo". I have nothing against the hipster, just don't poo-poo on my parade while you think you are a enlightened & über trendy, when really hipster is just another style evolved from its fashion predecessors.  It is not just hipsters. Preps, like myself, are known to be arrogant as all hades and believe they are above the rest, but I feel most people are informed on this topic so I will skip ahead to my point.

Everyone feels that they have it right. That their look, their style is the right one. A lot of the times we fail to acknowledge that while we like what we see in the mirror, someone else may find it utterly heinous. I am aware of this fact, seeing as my style traveled through 4 different genres throughout high school. Freshman year I was indy in maxi skirts & old rocker tees, sophomore year I collected Lacoste polos & designer jeans, junior year I mainly wore sweats to school because I had crew practice after & senior year I dug through my friends' closets to see what I could find. However, every year I thought I looked marvelous & with each look I moved on because it wasn't me. What we need to realize is everyone is going or has gone through this desperate journey to find the image they want to convey to the world. When I put a big pink flower in my hair I don't think "This look is fabulous & and anyone who thinks otherwise, I hate," because I know that my style is mine & theirs is theirs. I sincerely feel we should stop judging & recognize that one person's hot is someone else's not. I like Vineyard Vines, the girl in Doc Martens obviously did not.

As the very wise doctor once said, "Today you are you. That is truer than true. There is no one alive who is youer than you" - Dr. Seuss

Yours,
DB

Socialization of the blonde & redhead.

Everyone knows the stereotypes for blondes & redheads. Blondes are ditzy and float through life a little lighter than everyone else. Redheads are fiery with a sass that just won't quit. However, is it that these qualities are embedded in our DNA, or do we have society the blame for our limited options of what kind of person we can be? 

Throughout my life I have seen others be scolded for talking back, being sarcastic or for being too emotional, however, I never was. I correct teachers when they use improper grammar (well is a state of being, good is a state of an object), I cannot pretend to like someone, it is physically painful & when I get upset, I will either cry or vent excessively. When I say things like "I seriously doubt your intelligence," it is swatted away with a response of "You redheads crack me up"... Really? The result of society's negligence to properly socialize me has lead me to be a neurotic, confrontational & slightly awkward human being. I try to compensate with pearls and cardigans, & while it has helped to deter people's opinions, I can only fight what this world has brought me up to be so much.

However, I do believe the blondes have the best & the worst of stereotypes. On one hand they are completely lusted after by men & women alike, however, no matter how tight the French twist, they will always look a little less intelligent than the rest of us. This is very discouraging on multiple levels. First off, I will never be able to have the pleasure of going blonde seeing as my complexion is that of a "day walker". I will never be able to be "that girl" who everyone wants to be, or wants to be with. I am doomed to only get hit on by the guys who have a fetish with "my kind" when I go out. Fortunately, I have found a fetish-free man who not only puts up with my neurosis, but adores me for it, so I no longer have to worry about that minor predicament. Second, I have known more intellectually stimulating blondes in my life than brunettes (or at least 50/50). Actually, all of my best girlfriends have been blonde, & truth talk, I only mingle with those who are brilliant, obviously. It is true, though, that my lady-friends do milk the "blondes have more fun" cow & why shouldn't they? Their whole lives they have been given a get out of jail free card for those "oops" moments. For instance, I had a girlfriend who once said that her favorite country was Hawaii... Seriously. But it was only laughed off as everyone was expecting it even before she opened her mouth.

How am I suppose to be mild tempered & how are blondes suppose to compose themselves with more thought before action if all behaviors we do to reinforce the stereotype are encouraged, while brunettes are taught the ins and outs of proper social conduct? When they say something stupid, it is not labeled as a "blonde moment", they are generally just called out for doing or saying something absent-mindedly. Same goes for if they were to be too animated when expressing their opinion; they would be put in their place instead of getting a response like "well aren't you a little firecracker".  My point is, dumb blondes & fiery red heads are not a product of DNA, but of constant reinforcement by society who has predetermined our personalities. So the next time your blonde friend has a "blonde moment", or if your redheaded friend is "spitting fire" the important thing to remember is it is your fault. You and the rest of the world.

Yours,
DB

Hello there...

Ok, so I have told myself for the past 2 years that I would start to blog. Obviously, since this is my first entry, I have failed.. miserably. How to start? My name is Dana, friends call me Dane or D; neither of which I really had a say in, it just happened. If I could chose a nickname for myself it would be something like Sass or Fabulous. Something that really stayed true to who I am. Who am I? I am a red head with the personality to match. Unfortunately for those who know me, that also means I have a dash of Sagittarius; what a deadly combination that is. Continuing on my thoughts about my personality, you can gather that I am neurotic like Carrie Bradshaw, discombobulated like Bridget Jones & excitable like a pup.

Now that you know my ins, lets talk about my outs. I have lived in Texas, South Carolina, California & Michigan; when people ask where I am from I either tell them my abbreviated life story of north, south, east & west, or I just say "I am a lady of the land", which is the answer people appreciate more often than not. I have been to 16 different countries (Spain, Italy, England, Ireland, France, Germany, Switzerland, Czech Republic, Australia, Japan, Mexico, Morocco, Dominican Republic, etc.) Of where I have lived, I can say I enjoy Texas the most, but I am hoping to enjoy the leisurely lifestyle of New England in my near future. Of where I have traveled, Tuscany will always have my heart; Assisi & Certaldo, glorious. Between my travels & moves I managed to attend school throughout my life for no more than 2 years at a time, until college where I attended Michigan State for ALL 4 years... A huge feat if you ask me. I majored in Communications with a minor in Sociology, because lets face it, people and the relationship they have with their surroundings is very enticing. I conduct little experiments with myself by observing other people and playing games with them, while they are fully unaware. It is amazing what people will tell you, if you tell them a little scandal of your own. It is like opening Pandora's box... and, honey, it will always be something worth hearing. This hobby has enabled me to be very self-aware; offering this interest as a blessing & a curse. I know that I have a weakness for gossip, shopping & wine, but have the strength of being the life of the conversation (or of the karaoke bar).

So, why sociology & a glass of wine? Well... the title speaks for itself. I am a girl who fancies observing people & how their surroundings influence their behavior while enjoying life with a glass of wine in my hand. For those of you who are out to bash just to have a voice in this world of self-interest and self-obsession, no I am not an alcoholic, so please save your cyber-PSA for someone who will benefit from your motivational message.

While living all over America, I have solidified my style as preppy & classic. I never leave the house without my David Yurman bracelet or my Ralph Lauren over-sized sunglasses, but I am always down for a good romp in the snow with my snowboard & a few beers. I believe throughout my college career, I wore sweats to class a total of 4 times, all of which were when I was extremely hung over &, really, when I say sweats I mean yoga pants. Otherwise it was a pair of J. Crew pants and a fabulous cardigan for me.  I had my ups & downs with fashion, but I feel at the age of 22, I have really got my rhythm going.

After all of my background, the gist is, I want to write this blog because I have never met a stranger & I feel that I can relate to a lot of girls out there stuck between sorority & semi-awkward. PS- I was never in a sorority, although I seriously considered to notion seeing as my mother begged me to be a Kappa Kappa Gamma. Please stay tuned. I promise I will hold little back & will try to be as fabulous as I can be along the way.

Yours,
DB