Stupid Cupid

Frustrated with my sister's boyfriend and puppy visiting our home, my father thanked me for being the 'sensible one'.  "No boys, no dogs."  "Yeah, Dad.  Just cats and my parents for the rest of my life."  Thus, in order to avoid my inevitable fate, the last year I've turned to online dating. Before you scrunch your face up in disgust at the thought of online dating, remember that I live in the most heavily populated city in the country and in New York it is a totally common practice.  For those who are socially awkward and have little free time, it is a wonderful  way to trick people into hanging out with us. At least that's what I thought before I underwent the whole process.  Now, after 7 months on and off OkCupid I've realized that there are reasons a lot of these guys are resorting to online dating.  Short answer: they fucking suck.  Let me quickly walk you through some of the douche-baggery I've encountered.

The Leprechaun

Now, I'm not typically one to go for redheads, but when they're handsome anesthesiologists at major Manhattan hospitals, I'm perfectly willing to give them a second look.  We had been talking for a couple weeks when Doc announced that he had just been named chief resident and wanted to celebrate.  This was the first online interest I had agreed to meet and I was shitting bricks.  Friends were given the appropriate information in case I wound up a missing person, and despite the load in my pants, I went downtown to meet this charmer.  As someone who struggles with punctuality, I arrived at the bar with five minutes to spare.  Unsure of where to wait I popped my head into the bar to check out the scene; it was definitely a cool bar so I had a good feeling.  That feeling slipped away with the passing minutes with no show and I began feverishly texting my friends asking if I had been stood up.  After about fifteen or twenty minutes I finally messaged Doc to see how far he was and told him I was waiting on the sidewalk.  To my surprise someone poked his head out the door and shouted my name.  I turned to address the caller and realized that the tiny orange head not only belonged to my doctor, but a was full SIX inches shorter than promised.  Disgust does not even begin to describe what I felt at that moment-- anger that this prick had the audacity to lie about his height like that and utter self-loathing that I had let myself be deceived.  There I was, shoulder to face with my date, smiling through hellos and being led to a booth that I'm pretty sure was equipped with a booster seat.  Yet even though I was furious, I remembered the redeeming qualities that had led me there in the first place and went through with the date.  After two hours of hearing about how much of a family man he was, how much charity work he does, and how important it is for me to read I was fed up.  I told him I needed to go, but he insisted on having a celebratory glass of bourbon.  I declined ordering the same and waited for the check.  In an attempt to not be a jerk I offered to split the bill with him, terms to which he too quickly agreed.  Would you like to venture a guess as to what a ten year old glass of Midleton comes to?  $80. EIGHTY FUCKING DOLLARS A GLASS.  I took one look at the bill, told him I wasn't going to pay for the drink he didn't even offer me a sip of, and turned down the prospect of a second date.  

He proceeded to text me every other weekend for three months.  

Thought you found a winner did you?

Kankles

As you would expect, after the midget incident I was scared away from online dating for a while.   I worked up courage once again when I met a nice engineer with an even nicer smile who asked me to dinner.  Dinner, I later learned among hundreds of other online dating tips from this man, was typically a bad choice since there's no escape route.  However, he felt something "special" about me and wanted to take a risk.  I joked that I hoped he wasn't looking for his wife, and he responded with "Well actually I am.  And I'm not going to lie to you, Stephanie.  I could see us spending our lives together."  Fortunately for me the check had already come and been paid for.  Jones out.

And if you're wondering, he did have kankles.  It was a strange phenomenon since his upper body and abdomen were exceptionally fit.  I'm still scratching my head over that one. 

Southern Comfort

Having had "the nice guy" situation blow up in my face, I decided to take things to the sleezy end of the spectrum.  An oil and gas man fit the bill, so I went out with the first one I could get my hands on.  He was southern and charming with a fat wallet and a penchant for being a complete creep.  He was living an hour outside of the city so what little interest I had was extinguished when I discovered that news. Things, of course, didn't work out so when I ran into him at a bar several weeks after the date I expected an awkward conversation.  With apparently all the tact he could muster, he told me that his company will pay for his hotel when he wanted to stay in town and asked me if I wanted him to get a room for the next night.  I refused his slimy offer. All night, again and again I refused until finally, in drunk-bitch fashion, I sarcastically told him to go ahead and book a room.  The derision must have gone over his head because the next night, as I was watching my godchildren, I got a message asking what time I would be over.  That evening I received no answer to my "fuck off" message, but the next morning opened my phone to a text demanding half the cost of the hotel room.  I never responded, but later got a sad-faced snapchat, so clearly we're soul mates.

The absolute worst most horrible douche on the planet

I tend to think of myself as a fairly interesting person.  Sure I ramble, but there's definitely some nuggets of comic gold in my endless rants.  Not to mention I'm great on paper...you know... when I can edit out the sociopathic and neurotic tendencies.  Yet, I found myself sitting across from the most boring person that has ever walked this planet. Stupidly, I made the mistake of thinking a midwest boy was a safe bet, but it turns out the only topic he could think to discuss was how shitty I would feel if Michigan beat Ohio State in football.  Spoiler alert: Ohio State won.  The rest of our conversation, if it can be called that, was me asking questions, getting a one word response, asking a followup question, and then being accused of interrogating him.  Now if you're wondering why I didn't just ditch him, it's because I'm not a horrible person.  Plus there was no back door and he would have seen me try to run.  So instead, I bundled up all the crazy, and I mean crazy that I could muster and just let it rip on him. I talked about my recently deceased cat, I talked about going to German strip clubs, I reached a point where I wasn't even telling the truth anymore, trying to be as batshit as possible so I could scare him off. I told him my grandparents couldn't afford tooth brushes so neither of my parents have real teeth, and since they want me to have everything they couldn't, they put special care into making my smile perfect. He told me I looked athletic so I told him that I had never played a sport in my life, but that I was on the chess team in high school. I also led him to believe I have a collection of colored shoe laces that takes up 50% of my closet.  The worst of the worst word vomit I spewed I'm not willing to share, but if you know me you can probably imagine the places this discussion went. 

Unfortunately, my plan didn't really work.  Multiple times I expressed to this dimwit that I had to get back to school and we needed to wrap things up, but instead of asking for the check he ordered more food and more sake.  I'm no stranger to intentions here, especially when he made abundantly clear by inviting me to his apartment for whiskey cider and The Walking Dead.  Finally, after what seemed like hours, he insisted on escorting me to my subway stop.  I should mention that this guy was about 6'6, 220lbs so when he pinned me against a railing and tried to rape me with his face me all I could really do short of screaming, was squeeze my mouth shut and squirm until he let me go.  Romantic right?

On my subway ride home I got a text telling me I was a bad kisser.  Thanks, dickhead.  

The most horrifying part of all of this is that he continued to message me every day for WEEKS.  He must have finally got the hint when he asked me if I was still interested in him.  "Definitely not." "Well life lesson here, sweetheart: don't kiss boys you don't like."  Oh is that what I was doing?  Ok.  

Hey let's hang out again!

Now, I realize I am not always an easy person to get along with; I'm caustic, often on the brink of an emotional meltdown, and blessed with my father's temper, making me a real treat for anyone that gets on my bad side, but I think I deserve a little better than these shits. Though, for as much as these guys blow, I guess I'm glad they're being themselves.  So kudos, weirdos.

Yinz jealous?

Yinz Jealous?

Once upon a time Buzzfeed posted a list of reasons why Pittsburgh is the greatest city on earth, and while it was nice that a site with such a global audience was addressing our wonderful little haven, they did a really pitiful job recognizing the qualities that truly make Pittsburgh great.  So in light of my holiday pilgrimage, I will struggle through my poor command of the English language and do my very best to illuminate our city's best traits.

(just fyi, I wrote almost all of this before the huffington post article...so...screw you, big press)

http://www.buzzfeed.com/zoetsiris/18-reasons-why-pittsburgh-is-the-greatest-city-on-d56b

As you can tell it's a very comprehensive list.  We even have "Hogwarts at Christmas!"

We may not have Hogwarts, but Pittsburgh is a mecca of scholarly pursuits.  The University of Pittsburgh has had its series of letdowns in the ACC championships, but is 21st in a ranking of public institutions.  Carnegie Mellon University has, for generations, led the nation in computer science, technological development, and engineering.  Also, for all you pop culture idiots, CMU's drama school has produced our leading Hollywood heartthrobs Zachary Quinto, Matt Bomer, Joe Manganiello, and Patrick Wilson.  (Ted Danson, for all my 40+ readers.) Is that it, Stephanie?  Oh did I mention Duquesne, Point Park, Carlow, La Roche, Art Institute of Pittsburgh, Chatham, Slippery Rock, Robert Morris, plus a dozen more institutions less than an hour from the city?  That's just higher education.  Pittsburgh k-8 schools rank among the best in the state and in the top 98% in the nation.  We may not be able to say "downtown" to the rest of the country's standards, but we'll whoop your ass in standardized tests and high school graduation rates.  *see pittsburghese

Buzzfeed: They have a lot of bridges.

Yes, we have a lot of bridges, more than Venice, Italy, in fact.  Our bridges are more than a quirky trivia answer though, they are an attestation to the history of our city's industry.  The steel produced along the banks of our rivers is the literal foundation for our country's icons.

Steel, I am your father. Is this even the right movie reference?

I would venture to guess that most of my readers fall between fourth and fifth generation immigrants and many have had a grandfather or great grandfather who worked in the mills.  At the very least, we've grown up driving past the smoke stacks and hearing stories of the Donora Smog.  The legacy of our loved ones shaped the nation, and our bridges are a constant reminder of their hard work and sacrifice.

Smoke rising from the river below Kennywood Park. 

http://www.rpruschak.com/gallery/p/pittsburghareasteelmills/page/9

In the decades since the last mills closed, our city has had its share of struggles, but has emerged once again as a thriving community.  We may no longer be producing steel, but we're producing world-class doctors and healthcare, as well as tech start-ups and financial services.  Sure, we all have opinions about large corporations (my parents are in healthcare so say a prayer for my aching ears), but companies like UPMC, PNC, BNY Mellon, and West Penn are more deeply rooted  in this city than the trees in Frick Park.  We are a city bound by our history, common interests, and a strong value system.

Look no further than the Rooneys for proof of this notion.  Before I address the performances of our sports teams, I will first remind you that the greatest franchise in all of American sport's history has been owned by a FAMILY for as long as it has been in the NFL.  Although percentages of ownership have been parceled off, control of the team is still maintained by the Rooneys.  Not surprisingly, the remaining owners all hail from within the region. Some outsiders think we're too insular, but there are shared  ideals we like to keep close to home. 

Insert your incest jokes [here] coastal nimrods who think we're West Virginia.  

Here are the things Buzzfeed had right:

*note: I don't fact check so get off my case you sport snob jagoffs

As for the Steelers, well six Super Bowl championships speaks for itself.   The Steelers are one of the most polarizing teams in the NFL and for good reason.  They are a team that is consistently strong with some of the most passionate players in the league having appeared in 27 playoffs since 1947.  However, they are an aggressive team with even more aggressive fans, making them much hated group in rival cities.  Try going to school in Ohio with three AFC North teams in a 200mi radius and see how many friends you make while waving your Terrible Towel.  Nonetheless, no one can deny the fervor with which both the people and players stand behind their team.  

Sure the Penguins are in tenth place when it comes to hosting Lord Stanley, but they were nearly fifty years late to the game.  I don't need to make excuses for them, they are still, like the Steelers, a constant powerhouse in their league, boasting seven division, four conference, and three Stanley Cup championships since 1990 when Hall-of-Famer Mario Lemieux joined the franchise.  The amount of talent this team has on the ice is enough to make any hockey fan melt (this one especially). Nine current players were shortlisted to participate in the upcoming Winter Olympics and individual players have, themselves, racked up a number of individual trophies.  Not to mention, the team has made it to the playoffs for seven, likely to be eight, consecutive seasons. Yet, what is most impressive and inspiring about this team above other Pittsburgh sports teams is the interest of its players to remain in Pittsburgh.  League all-stars like Sidney Crosby, Evgeni Malkin, Pascal Dupuis, Kris Letang, etc. have all expressed not only desire to stay in this organization, but taken tremendous cuts in pay in order to do so.  The quality of the the team's management and ownership, as well as the relationship to the fans and city is unlike any I've ever heard . In all fairness, I don't get out much.

Throwback to 2008. Miss you, Igloo.

The Pirates are somewhat of a different story.  I can't speak with as much confidence to our beloved Buccos, but I can assure you that the people of this city, regardless of the team's performance, still love them.  For all they naysayers who want to bitch about people jumping on the bandwagon when this past season was finally a success, f*ck off.  For twenty years we've had no choice but to support a losing team; don't mistake people's excitement for finally having to the chance to to pour as much passion into baseball as they've been dishing to football and hockey for decades.  Not being a huge baseball fan myself I'm afraid I'm coming up short in this department, but you can certainly thank this team for the absolute delight that is PNC Park and the Pierogi Race.

What Buzzfeed missed: 

Sure we are a sports-centric city, consumed by the electric energy of our successful teams and unmatched spirit, but that does not make it our only interest.  I hate when snobby New Yorkers try to tell me that there is no culture in Pittsburgh.  Granted, Florentijn Hofman's giant rubber duck may have not been received as intended, there are plenty of culturally literate people in this city, with plenty of places for those people to go.  Since 2013 is the year of lists, here are just some of the places you can visit: Carnegie Museum of Art, Carnegie Museum of Natural History, Carnegie Science Center, UPMC Sports Works, The Andy Warhol Museum, The Mattress Factory, Phipp's Conservatory, The National Aviary, The Cathedral of Learning, Heinz History Center, The Frick Art & Historical Center, plus the museums which cater specifically to Pittsburgh's history (Incline museum, Fort Pitt Museum & Block House, etc.).  I could list just as many theaters and art galleries, but one stop to the Pittsburgh City Paper listings page can tell you everything you need to know for the next six months to get your fix.  

The duck. The Point. The place to be.
http://mediad.publicbroadcasting.net/p/wesa/files/201309/story_image.jpg

We have incredible public spaces.  It took the city a while to figure out what they were doing wrong, but in recent years the riverfront development is much improved.  Point State Park is a bit overscaled for my taste, but caps downtown in an way that makes activities accessible, keeping them adjacent without removing them from the city.  With the increase in bicycle use (thanks, hipsters), many more greenways have arisen along our perimeters, connecting downtown to further reaches along the Allegheny and Monongahela.  The North Shore Trail, which connects the waterfront between PNC Park and Heinz Field is not only a hot spot for tailgators, but is a landscape showcasing the beauty of our city's skyline.  Personally, my favorite space is not a park at all, but is Market Square, which has seen dramatic changes over the past few years.  Closing of the square to thru-traffic and connecting it to PPG Place is one of the smartest things this city has ever done.  Spend an afternoon there on a nice day and you'll start to understand what a good public space can do for a community.  Additionally, Frick, Schenley, and Highland Park all have their draws, but it just takes a glance over a Google Earth image to realize this city ain't playin' when it comes to green space.  

Very few people realize what sort of impact public space can make on the quality of living, but Pittsburgh's "Most Livable City" title isn't coming from affordability alone. The cost of living is low, our housing is cheap, our schools are fantastic, but most importantly as residents of Pittsburgh, we freaking love Pittsburgh.

Here is what Buzzfeed got confused:

Our signature sandwich has fries on it.  

Well...yeah...I guess it's cool to combine the sides with the sandwich, but despite all its acclaim, Primanti Brothers has stayed only in Pittsburgh (because Fort Lauderdale does not count as a place).  In all honesty, I'm not a fan of coleslaw so Primanti Bros is not my first choice, but I'm happy to brag about it right alongside the rest of you.  I'm more interested in talking about Eat'nPark, Iron City, Isaly's, and Potato Patch Fries which are also some of our long-standing eating/brewing staples in the city.  None of these places are exceptionally good--don't be mistaken there is amazing food in Pittsburgh--but they come from Pittsburgh, so we'll tell every single person we ever meet that he needs to try a Primanti Brothers sandwich because nothing in the world beats Pittsburgh.  We have so much pride in our city and the things we produce that we'll celebrate it no matter its quality.  cough*pirates*

We are a city of neighborhoods; they figured out that much.  Yet Buzzfeed hasn't come to any great conclusion about why we should care.  City Guide does a good job breaking down a number of them and listing each's characteristics ( http://www.pittsburghmagazine.com/Pittsburgh-Magazine/Best-Of/City-Guide/ ), but I think is still slightly off the mark.  The neighborhoods are adorable and we certainly love adorable.  Portlandia has made this all too familiar to us.  The reason we love our neighborhoods is because within them is embedded the history of ourselves.  Like all American cities, we have a rich history that none of us are really that far removed from.  Pittsburgh is special in that even through massive developmental and economic changes throughout the years, it has been able to preserve it's history in the physical landscape of its city.  Take a walk on Fourth Street downtown and realize that the Times Building (Frederick J. Osterling 1892) stands across the alley from One Oxford Center (HOK 1992) built one hundred years apart and both are still integral parts of the urban fabric. Our neighborhoods represent something more than valuable real estate.  They are not relics of our past, but thriving parts of our present that serve as reminders of what our city has built.  

Buzzfeed: We have our own lingo.
Most places do, we just happen to take more pleasure in vocabulary than most. We wear our dictionary on tshirts and we will fight any person that uses "soda" instead of "pop."  However, what is most interesting about the language we speak is that we refer to everything in Pittsburgh as ours, or we, or us. 

"How'd dem Stillers do?" "We'll do better next week." 

If you were raised in Pittsburgh, every aspect of the city is a part of you and you refer to it as such.  People from Pittsburgh have a pride that cannot be shaken.  The blue collar values of our grandparents have been handed down to us; we maintain what they built and from it we refuse to be separated.  This pride extends beyond our personal gains and is reflected in the joy we take from our sports teams, our history, and our community which is the heart of what makes Pittsburgh so great.  Go ahead and make lists, Buzzfeed, but understand that you don't understand.

Consider this post my love letter to Pittsburgh.

Beat that.
http://www.pittsburghbridge.org/pittsburgh.jpg

No wait. Consider this my love letter to Pittsburgh:

Roses are red, violets are blue,

Pittsburgh, you're awesome. 

I'll never leave you.

...except when I have to go back to New York...

...but I promise I'll come back when I graduate if someone gives me a job.

Don't be pissed.

Love, Stephanie

Bridges Will Burn

Ladies and Gentlemen,

I don't know how many of you, my readers, are athletes, but I can guarantee many people out there are going to take issue with this one way or another. So please feel free to leave me nasty comments or share with your friends if you feel the need. Today's rant is brought to you by the shit show taking place in a local high school athletic department.  Bear in mind this a personal blog post, and I have not spoken directly with all involved parties. Although I will be making heinous remarks about certain authorities, the utter disdain that I now have toward the individuals who have ruined several careers and the legacy of a team is less important than the implications their actions will have on the moral success of their children. 

As some of you know I have been a volunteer coach for upward of six years now, and the current state of the volleyball team is abysmal. For anyone older than me, this was pretty much the norm during your glory days, but for a brief shining period between 2007 and 2011 this particular volleyball team was a top dog in its district. The excessive slew of talent that came through during that time is a huge contributor, but much of the team's success can be attributed to the coach and her staff. Taking the reigns in 2006, she led a team with an average of 2 wins per season and turned them into a regional powerhouse. Regardless of varying opinions of her coaching methods and abilities, her hand in the improvement of the district's volleyball program is undeniable.

A little Jones sister action circa 2007

Yet somehow this revered woman, who has led dozens of teams to hundreds of victories, is being forced out of the school district. 'By who?' you ask. Parents. The whiny, snot-nosed parents of the whiny snot-nosed players. 'Why?' you ask. Because their daughters did not make the team.

Now, the beginning of this season started the same as any other: skills camps, team camps, tryouts. However, what most people fail to realize is that tryouts are not just the three days before the roster is posted. Athletes are constantly being evaluated, from the moment they step into the gym and every subsequent moment until they leave. What you do on that court, regardless of what the current task is or who is or isn't watching, is grounds for judgment. The performance over a meager twelve hours of tryouts is almost negligible if a player has spent a season with the team. There is no tenure in sports.  So parents who think their child earns a spot on a team because of a good three days of practice, or the fact that they were on the team the previous season, are sadly mistaken.  Having seen these players myself and having my opinions of each, I can say that the majority of them are lazy, indifferent, and completely willing to coast on what little god-given talent they have. That being said, on a personal level, I do like most of them, but as players they are virtually uncoachable.

My views aside, tryouts were held, cuts were made, and the season should have proceeded as usual, but several upperclassmen were released from the roster and all hell broke loose. Phone calls to the athletic director were made immediately by furious parents, nasty emails started flying, and the uninvolved players had to just stand by as a battle unfolded around them. Honestly, angry parents sending angry messages is nothing new, but the steps they took next are arguably the most abhorrent part of all of this. The parents, dissatisfied with the results of their harassment, went to the school board, the school board to the Athletic Director, and the AD to the fetal position.

These girls were cut because they did not demonstrate the athletic ability or the work ethic to remain on the team, and therefore the parents went on a rampage. After already having two former coaches removed within the last year, they locked in on their next victim with ease and authority. The athletic director, pressured from higher powers, decided that the girls who had been cut would be reinstated to the team. OVERRULED. A coach with a lifetime of coaching experience was told that her decision would not stand. Why? Because the administration has no spine. Their cowardice is the same reason two other coaches lost their positions and one has to wonder how many more high school coaches' jobs are at risk if similar situations arise.

I understand self-preservation, but the actions of the administration are in direct violation of the ideology of athletic programs. Doing the minimal amount of research, I found a passage on the school's website stating that the major goals of the program are to:

1. emphasize the educational values of interscholastic athletics
2. Promote safe and sportsmanlike competition
3. abide by uniform standards for all interscholastic levels of competition
   citation withheld for anonymity...because i'm so good at being discrete.

Sportsmanship is first and foremost about respect; respect for one's opponent and respect for oneself. I don't doubt that the players on this team have respect for their opponents, especially in a district where wearing a facade is everyone's favorite activity. Oh, am I getting catty? Sorry. However, there seems to be a definite lack of respect for themselves; not as individuals, but as a whole. The internal workings of a team depend on a mutual regard for people's abilities and the roles to which they are assigned. This includes everyone involved—players, coaches, assistant coaches, managers, etc. The coach's role is to teach the skills, the players': to listen. Yet, I have been witness to a group of girls who have little desire to listen or to learn, especially when it requires effort. The guidance they are given is misconstrued as criticism and pressure put on them to work hard is seen as bullying. They have no self-control, they have no discipline, instead they have parents that do all the work for them so they have to earn nothing and are instead handed success on a silver platter.

This leads me to the so-called emphasis of 'educational values.' How are coaches supposed to instill educational values when they are being undermined by external forces? How can administration remain appointed to their positions when they don't represent the values they themselves have outlined?   What sort of example are these people setting? “What's wrong, honey? Coach made you do an extra drill and you were tired? Well that's not acceptable.” Hard work, determination, self-improvement, dedication, teamwork, and an endless list characteristics that are supposed to be gained from involvement in sports were thrown out the window the minute these parents interfered. These parents have completely failed to acknowledge the responsibilities of their child, have bulldozed right through their moral development, and have created a generation of entitled and mediocre athletes. Parents, your children are LAZY, and instead of letting them learn the consequences of their indolence, you have rewarded them and ruined people's careers in the process.

...but then again, you did put a lot of hard work into screwing the team over, so I guess there is a little bit of diligence in there for you to pass on.

I can't decide what really upsets me most, but I can tell you that the Administration’s failure to take action against this sort of incursion is despicable.  By overturning the coach's decision they robbed her of the authority and respect she deserved, therefore setting the team up for mediocrity at best. Yet, the players are also to blame. If they thought the decisions were somehow ill-informed or misguided, is it not their responsibility to address the subject with the coaches? I have never known a coach to avoid explanation for his or her decisions and players should know that. But these girls aren't taught to confront their issues because they have parents that will do the dirty work for them. In the nine years I played organized sports, I cannot remember a single occasion on which my parents spoke on my behalf. Parents with unrealistic views of their child's capabilities need to step aside and let them discover something on their own. If your child isn't good enough to make a high school team, she certainly doesn't have any hope of pursuing the sport in college, so why are you pushing for her to be a part of the organization? So she can learn good values? Yeah, nice one, jackasses.

How to be a Trophy Wife

How to be a Trophy Wife

as told by someone who is clearly unqualified to make these claims

Fall is my favorite season.  Of course I'm looking forward to the gallons of pumpkin-spiced lattes and apple cider I'll be consuming, but even more exciting are those tall drinks of water that will be officially taking the ice again in a few weeks.  October 3rd marks the beginning of the regular NHL season, and after a devastating playoff loss last season I couldn't be more excited to watch our boys start dominating the eastern conference all over again.  Since the Steelers are painfully under-performing and since I have little fascination with baseball, I'm putting a lot of displaced enthusiasm onto the Penguins.  So in honor of my Pittsburgh sports I give you a list of items explaining why James Neal has still yet to propose to me.  

Be young
A professional athlete has a short shelf-life.  Where 40 is a normal age for most people to be reaching the peak of their profession, a 40 year old athlete has likely already mastered marlin fishing and played every golf course in North America in the leisure of his retirement.  I'm far too lazy to do research the average age of athletes, but chances are they're relatively young themselves, and just like the desire for their iphone 5s, they want the newest, shiniest thing on the market.

Be beautiful
If you're not fit to grace the pages of a jcpenney catalog or a dental hygiene pamphlet, you are certainly not pretty enough to be a trophy wife. No amount of personality is going to help you snag a hockey player if you need Valencia or X Pro to make yourself look good.  If you're the girl who is telling yourself "yeah...but I'm funny and down to earth so that must count for something," get a clue.  The amount of women in this world that are funny, down to earth, and supermodels far outnumber the amount of fucks that any athlete is going to give about you.

Be well-groomed
This could be the exception to the above.  If you're so-so looking, chances are if you spend excessive amounts of your money on skin-care products, blowouts, and clothes, you may be able to make yourself attractive enough to land a rich guy. This kind of trophy wife seems to be more prevalent in the business world though so talk to your friendly neighborhood football player and report back to me.

Be fit
I don't think you necessarily have to be a Jillian Michaels--look at Hilary Duff, she's short with a recurring weight problem, yet she snagged a pro hockey player--but you have to be in shape. Granted, Lizzie McGuire has a self-made fortune (see next point), but even if you have money you certainly can't be walking around with 40 extra pounds on your frame. Regardless of what you know about health and exercise, with the internet being a thing and all, there is absolutely zero reason to be overweight.  There are obviously a variety of body types in this world, but if you don't have one that is preferential and if you fail to keep what you do have in shape, then sorry, sister, you're out of luck.

Hilary Duff, I love you and I'm sorry I called you fat.  #comeclean

Be rich
These guys make a lot of money.  So why the hell would they want you leeching to their fortune to drain it on designer bags and a freaking Prius?  However, if you have your own money with which to do these activities, you are no threat to their earnings and therefore a viable mate. The poor person's alternative:

...be a stripper.
But really.  I'm not sure what the appeal is here, but those ladies with daddy-issues are doing something right. If not a stripper, at least...

Be great in bed
Of course, you probably have to be most the above in order to get to that stage in the first place, but if you get there, don't fuck it up.  Just saying.

Be an athlete
Sometimes professional athletes tend to date other athletes. Having given up my sports after high school, I would assume that this comes from 1. mutual respect for the other's sport and abilities or 2. proximity. Dating an athlete before they make it pro, usually a consequence of enduring study tables and strength training at a college level, can get you an in.  Truthfully, someone who has never played sports will never understand the complexities of emotional strain that an athlete undergoes, so it makes sense that relationships stemming out of support and understanding would be ideal.  Under this category I will also state that if you never played sports, you better at least understand them.

Be sharp
You're a trophy, so along with being beautiful and charming, you must be capable of at least feigning intelligence.  Really, you probably don't want to be too smart, otherwise you threaten to be the superior in the relationship, and goodness knows that's not how this works.  My advice: don't ever tell them that you're getting your masters degree at an ivy league school...just something that didn't really work for me. That being said, you want to be a trophy wife without appearing to be a trophy wife so bring something "smart" to the table.

Like children
Athletes seem to want families.  Why?  In most cases, getting to where they are required a support system, so family values tend to run deep within athletes.  Additionally, one must consider legacy.  Playing a sport professionally doesn't necessarily mean that he is setting all sorts of records.  The human need to leave some sort of contribution to the world is heightened when said human is put on a pedestal for most of his life.  Producing an equally successful child is a common pro athlete dream.  So that perfect body that you're trying to maintain, get ready to lose it when you pop out a few kids.

Be attentive
A professional athlete requires attention. Give it to him or get out.

but most importantly...

Be awesome
These guys can afford to be picky. If you find yourself fitting into all of the above and you are super attractive and super cool then I congratulate you. Now good luck finding yourself in the right place at the right time to actually put yourself on the pro athlete market.  Godspeed.

Is there something in my braces?

It is a new month so I will no longer be beginning my blog with the formulaic "I am..." and then a bunch of barely-related nonsense. Instead, I will simply attempt to negotiate the hardships of graduate school and the ability to stay away awake long enough to crap out a coherent piece of 'writing' that may or may not entertain.

Is there something in my braces?

For those of you wondering, this is not what wearing a thong is like...

Today a friend asked me if I was a "dweeb" in high school.  I responded truthfully: I have no way to describe my high school self other than friendless, but I got to thinking about possible categories I could have fallen into. I was kind of a tomboy, but liked to wear makeup.  I was an athlete, but I did well in school.  I went to catholic school, but I loved to dance dirty.  I certainly never fit into one typology, and although I loved video games and fantasy novels, I never have and I never will describe myself as a nerd.  In a time when every girl on the planet wants to brag about seeing the latest superhero movie and talk about how great she is at  Smash Brothers, I am happy to reserve that title for the true nerds on this planet.

I don't know when it began, but the recent flux in science fiction blockbusters and shows like the Big Bang Theory have popularized being a so-called geek.  Additionally, the well-publicized success of nerds like Nate Silver and Steve Jobs, reveal the glamorous payoff that we all strive for.  Though it seems for the most part that people are ditching the whole, you know, lifetime of hard work and education and slapping on a slick pair of Warby Parkers instead. I, frankly, don't have a problem with this, but I feel for the souls who have spent most of their lives puffing their inhalers praying for Carrie Fisher to visit them in their wet dreams (I'm not nerdy enough to even have a reference from my own generation).  Since I'm sure these citizens of the World of Warcraft are getting pretty sick of the impersonators, I've compiled a short list of things to help separate the posers from the real deal.

- Wearing glasses does not make you a nerd.  It makes you an inferior member of the human race and you won't be invited the lunar colonies when our planet is destroyed.

- Liking superheros does not make you a nerd.  Liking superheros only counts as nerd points if you have read the comic books from which the characters of your beloved Henry Cavill, Christian Bale, and Chris Evans originate.  Tom Welling anyone?  #tbt.

- Knowing how to turn on your xbox does not make you a nerd.  Nor, for the record, does playing video games make you a "gamer."  Just saying.  

- If you wear makeup or care about your appearance in general, you are probably not a nerd.

- If you didn't get straight As in school, please stop telling people you're a nerd.

- If you've been in a relationship that didn't stem from a chat room, a mmorpg, or the rifle team meetings, I doubt you're a nerd.  If you had to look up what "mmorpg" stood for, YOU'RE NOT A FREAKING NERD.

- Watching the Zachary Quinto Star Trek does not make you a nerd.  Knowing that there are multiple Star Trek television series as a result of watching the Big Bang Theory also means you are not a nerd. Additionally, simply knowing the difference between Star Trek and Star Wars does not make you a nerd.

- Game of Thrones isn't nerdy. 

- Harry Potter isn't nerdy.

- Pokemon: not nerdy.

So stop.

Tall Tale

"I know I'm tiny compared to you guys, but..."

I am 6'0" in heels.  Depending on the shoe and that day's attitude toward posture, I'm sometimes scraping the +6'1" range.  So why men under 5'5 have the incessant need to hit on me is a mystery I have yet to solve. I am certainly not excessively tall, but I have been around enough above average women in my lifetime to know that this phenomenon is a very common.  I hate to be the one to break this news to the world, but few girls I know are interested in lowering her lips or her standards for someone in a different atmospheric layer.

In case you were skeptical of the math.  67" + 6" = 73" otherwise known as 6'1"

Sadly, short guys need to start being realistic.  Even when you remove the stilettos from under my feet, I am still in a position to see straight over that (likely) balding head of yours.  And since I wear some sort of elevated heel at least 75% of the time, my actual height barely matters.  Really there is nothing wrong with a less-than-average height guy; they have just as much to offer the world as the rest of of us, but unless they plan on pulling a Louis XIV and investing in some platform loafers, I have very little interest in the genetic disproportion.

Hobbits of the world, before you go throw yourself off a building--because, of course, you can't reach high enough to hang yourself--remember that this is one person's opinion. On a recent coaching stint, I had a conversation with a 6'3" player of mine who claims she has no interest in dating someone taller than her. Therefore, it is possible to find a tall girl who doesn't mind shrinking down to smooch, but be warned, this type is rare.  Before you go risk making a fool of yourself with some amazon woman, analyze the situation.  Let me describe a scenario: you're out at a bar and are scanning the crowd when you see a beautiful blonde head sticking out over the rest.  Where is she looking when she's not engaged in conversation?  If she is squinting across the room above the rest of the crowd, DO NOT APPROACH.  If she's searching the faces of people in your general region, then, since most girls suck at and do not participate in wing-womaning, she is probably prowling for herself and you can assume she is fair game.  It can really be that simple.  I have friends who deliberately never tilt their gaze lower than 90° to ensure they don't accidentally make eye contact with guys they're not interested in.  No joke.

Short guys, I know this sucks.  I feel for you.  Am I being a bitch? Yes, but that doesn't mean I can't empathize.   I know what it's like to be rejected for no other reason than height.  I was all-state in high school, yet division I volleyball teams aren't interested in the 5'7 hitter no matter how high white girl can jump.  Even though it might not be fair, and even though I will have an underlying complex about it my whole life, I deal with it.  So is it fair that tall guys don't have to work as hard to get action?  Is it fair that employers are more inclined to hire a tall person over a short person?  It isn't fair, but guess what, you have to deal with it.

Rule of thumb: most women desire a guy at least 4" taller.  Keep that in mind.  

Oh Long Johnson

Oh Long Johnson

I am a cat person.  I have been one since the second grade, unlike the many girls who have, in recent years, latched onto the confusing popularity of catladydom. When you grow up with one of those purring fur-balls, who on occasion is your only companion, you tend to feel compassion toward the whole species. However, many of the people I know who obsess over the feline population have an unhealthy attachment to these cats.  Yes, my Ebony's photo is my permanent wallpaper, but she has also been in my life for 17 years (not joking..she might be the cat from Hocus Pocus).  For the rest of you who can't claim such an enduring relationship, where does the fascination come from?  Sadly, I think most people like the idea of cats more than the actual animals.

As we all know, at least for the time being, it's hip to be hip.  We all want to carry our groceries in graphic tote bags, tuck our flannel into our high-waisted shorts, and throw back a few PBRs on our friends fire escape.  Few people, however, can pull off the sardonic air that most hipsters maintain with ease, so they resort to the superficial imitation of this subculture. If you think about it, cats are self-sufficient, seemingly contemplative, completely dismissive of nonsense, and don't give a fuck what people think. Sound familiar? If it doesn't, think about any bearded, Dave Eggers reading, bike riding person you know and see if the qualities align. A hipster's love for these creatures stems from the familiarity of a cat's disposition.  So while hipsters have justification for liking cats as much as they do,  a majority of the remaining "cat-lovers" just want to be perceived as one of these apathetic dirtballs.

While I am all for adopting and loving cats, I fear that this modern obsession is a trend.  Remember when going green was cool?  Everyone rushed out to by their environmentally friendly cleaning products and recycled shirts, used them for a few months, then gave up because sorting their trash was too much of a pain.  Understandably, cats are living things and cannot be so easily ignored, but when the hipster phase is over will people still care about these cuddly pets? Personally, I hope the kitties are here to stay .

Lastly, and on a slightly different note, if you think you are a catlady you are wrong.  You won't die alone; you will get married and probably not even own pets. So shut the fuck up and stop posting so many pictures of your ONE cat.  However if you, like me, have been told my friends and family that you will die alone, keep on posting, because these are the lasting memories you're going to fill your photo albums with some day.

Jones out.

Resting bitch face.

Men: Am I doing it right?

Men: Am I doing it right?

I am old fashioned.  If you've ever seen me after a half dozen shots of Jameson you may disagree, so allow me to explain.  First, Slop Jones and Steph Jones, although bound by the same lanky body, are two different states of existence and this post is about the latter.  Second, I have been described as a strong woman, and strong women, as mandated by society, come carrying a whole load of predetermined characteristics  Self-aware. Determined. Proud. Honest. And then of course bitchy. Ball-busting. And bat shit crazy. Naturally, you would think that if these things were true of me that I would have no problem setting my sights and then taking what I want.  However, I am far more defenseless than that, and it is on these grounds I mean to claim myself as old-fashioned.  So when it comes to men I have little desire to be the she-wolf constantly stalking her prey, I would much prefer to be sniffed out by someone else, but lately that doesn't seem to be an option.

Let me rewind to several months ago. I reached my twenty-third birthday and realized that in the five years I had been going to bars not once had a complete stranger offered to buy me a drink.  If you'll remember I described myself as self-aware, so this revelation really wasn't startling.  Yet for a thin, smart, moderately attractive girl I am pretty far down the shitter when it comes to men.   After a brief stint on a dating website (another blog for another time), I turned to my older brother for insight on meeting men.

"hot guy at the gym. what's my move?"
"ask him if you're doing the exercise correctly"
"he's on a treadmill. 'excuse me, does this walk look right to you?'"

no thanks.

The next time I saw him I had enough balls to say hello, but having his headphones in, he walked right by.  Now for those of you that are screaming "get a clue!" at your computer, "he's not interested," you're probably correct.  Or he took a look at me, thought I was seventeen, and wasn't in the mood to get suspicious looks for engaging with a minor.  Regardless, what I'm attempting to illustrate is that of two (supposedly) interested parties, I was the one putting myself out there.  I am not afraid of rejection, if I were I wouldn't get out of the bed in the morning since even my dog refuses kisses anymore.  What I am afraid of is that the men of my generation are too lazy to put in the effort required for meeting people and maintaining relationships. Now this, I realize, is a  mass generalization, but how many "couples" out there are are based entirely on convenience?

I grew up in a household with parents who preached hard work, so although I don't want to be the girl shoving my business cards into guys' hands whilst attempting to flirt, I will continue to put forth an effort, since, frankly, I don't want my cats to eat me after I die.  I don't know who or what is to blame for the lack of work ethic in this world today, but the cloud of entitlement that hovers around 20-somethings is so thick that I don't see many other options when it comes to the pursuit of male interests.  While the laziness that I am describing here is manifested in so many different ways I could write a book, for the sake of today's blog I'm just going to stick with its relevance to my ability to get laid.  That being said, I am nostalgic for a time when hard work in one's life and profession also rubbed off onto romantic endeavors.  I am not sitting here asking for some white knight to sweep in and cook me dinner, hold doors open for me, or impress my family.  I'm not asking anything for myself.  In fact, if you are a guy reading this, DO NOT take it as an invitation to flood my inbox with creepy emoticons; if I were interested in you, you'd already know.  My intention is to simply call attention to the root of the problem. So ladies, stop letting men get away with such lethargic behavior.  And gentlemen, get off your fucking ass, grow a pair, and start taking a more active role in meeting women.  At the very least, just nod your head at the creepy girl smiling at you from the elliptical...

001: Reasons I drink

001: Reasons I drink

I am an architect.  At least, I am going to school to become one.  After studying architecture for five years and practicing drafting for eight, is it not likely, at some point, I learned to use a ruler?  But I am getting ahead of myself.  

Like most of us, my job, unfortunately, requires me to collaborate with other professionals in order to achieve the end product.  However, more often than not I am greeted with the utmost condescension from these individuals.   Shamefully, I can understand where this is coming from.  I look young so I must not know better.  I'm pretty so I must be confused.  Appearance can be a powerful thing, but one could imagine that  a telephone line would act as a buffer between this sort of judgement.  After speaking over the phone with a contractor about our project, he kindly informed me that my drawings were not scaled correctly.  Knowing full well that my drawings were to scale I politely replied that he must be mistaken.

  "Sweetie, I don't know what size you think these drawings are, but your counter is coming out at four feet." 

 (This was, in fact, the correct dimension.) 

I wasn't so offended by the term of endearment as I was by the demand for a new set of drawings and the sudden click that signaled the end of the conversation.  I sat fuming for a while, not knowing how to proceed before the senile old man called me back shortly to apologize.  I was not tickled, but I quickly came to realize that his assumption of my incompetence was not entirely unwarranted.  How often do we come in contact with people who are incapable of performing even the simplest tasks? The waitress that takes the wrong order. The cable service that can't fix your connection.  The uninformed.  The inadequate.  The impotent.  We are surrounded by an entire population of people that suck at what they do. Worse, there isn't even any need or desire to improve because we simply accept the service that is offered to us. 

Ineptitude. 

Reason I drink. 

To blog or shut the fuck up...

To blog or shut the fuck up...

I am a morning person.  This may surprise you given my generally negative disposition, but there are few things in this world I enjoy more than those few hours spent in silence sipping coffee and reading the news before the rest of the world wakes up and shits on my day.  That being said, I am going to take the opportunity to use these fleeting moments to project a more optimistic and insightful version of myself to see if my mother's notion of "something to love" emerges.  For anyone who does not know what to expect, I anticipate my posts to reside somewhere between Carrie Bradshaw, Chelsea Handler, and an ill-tempered jock on steroids. Here we go... I guess.

Shout out to my little pup who inspired me to put my thoughts out there. http://megdogglyfe.blogspot.com/