Thank Goodness For Girl Friends - OMFG

Friends -- good friends -- and all the crazy shenanigans you get into with them, are what we'll all remember the most from our twenties. That time we partook in illicit behavior with that celebrity at 4 a.m. in Miami? Awesome. That time we all took this or that at the cottage and hilariously mused about life? Epic. That time we had to carry insert the one friend who always goes overboard out of that really fancy club and watched him/her vomit on the lawn then try and convince us to go back out partying? Less fun....but still a sick (literally) memory. While co-ed fun is always solid, there's something to be said for good times with your bros/girls. After all, Entourage and Sex and the City were both wildly popular for a reason.

As I creep into my late twenties, I've come to value my close girl friends more and more. Emphasis on the close. We're not talking fake club hugs and air kiss this and air kiss that while you vapidly discuss just where she got that divine sample sale clutch. No. We're talking real ass bitches who know you without the night time make-up. The ones you can sit around in sweats with and talk about every little uncertainty you have about life while they share theirs.

Now that we're all leading adult (ish) lives, there's been a transition from quantity to quality. Gone are the days when we all lived within a stone's throw of each other and had endless time to just hang out. Obsessive texting of boy crisis updates as they happen are a thing of the past. One of my closest girl friends and I haven't lived in the same city for years now and are still closer than ever. I've always maintained that distance and friendship have absolutely nothing to do with each other! (Thank you Skype, Viber, and especially Whatsapp -- because sometimes you just need to know that the grumpy cat photo you sent has been seen.)

A five minute talk with my bestie (and yes...no matter how old I get I will have a bestie and refer to her as my bestie) is all it takes to get me out of whatever ridiculous mood I might be in...and I'm proud to say I can do the same for several of my good girl friends as well. Like relationships, friendships only work when you both make each other better people. If she's happy for your successes (and never jealous), supports your at-times poor, irrational decisions (and is there for you during the aftermath), and you can still both get into as much trouble as you did when you were eighteen, then chances are you've found a close girl friend for life.

What has me feeling a sudden burst of love for my darling girls? Perhaps it's the holiday season that has me particularly maudlin. Or maybe, it's just an ongoing appreciation for all the forward-moving, mood-swinging, potty-mouthed, risk-taking, complicated and intelligent women in my life. Carrie once said it was about finding someone to run wild with you...she was of course, referring to her search for a spouse. I think Carrie got it partially right; it is all about finding someone to run wild with you -- not a spouse -- but rather a pack of good girl friends. I'll cheers my Cosmo to that. x

OMFG - Do Nice Guys Actually Finish Last?

In the past little while I've read a plethora of articles online about how hard nice guys have it. Mostly opinion, some satire. (Think Vice, Elite Daily, that sort of thing.) They've all been interesting, slightly offensive, and mildly accurate, at best. They do, however, all come to one sad conclusion: in the dating game, nice guys finish dead last. My goodness, what is it about us silly, emotional, self-hating women that causes us to love assholes and make nice guys so utterly miserable? Aren't we just the worst?

Well no. I love how all these articles single-handedly blame women for the demise of the Nice Guy. We're just begging to be treated like shit, apparently, so men oblige as if they're doing us a favor. Here's the thing: women who are happily dating nice guys don't go on writing rampages about it. They also don't rant to all their friends about it. So in truth, the Nice Guy who is happily in a relationship gets a lot less press than the scorned one. And of course he gets a whole lot less press than the Asshole who walks away from his dealings with girls like men in skinny ties and sunglasses walk away from explosions in movies. When it comes to love, we talk about our problems, not our happiness. (No one would of gone to see The Notebook if they just went and got married after happily dating, now would they.)

In my twenty six years of dating, and in my twenty six years of girl friends sharing their stories of the perils of dating, I can truly say there is nothing wrong with nice guys. I welcome them. The problem with dating nice guys is how nice they are in comparison to you...it's the scale of relativity for niceness. Not kidding! For example, I was too nice for one ex (practically an angel in his eyes) and ultimately the devil in the eyes of my next ex. One just happened to be more apt to bad behavior and wavering morals while the other was black and white in his principles. Each saw me accordingly. (Model, promoter, party-loving, flighty, and ice cold when provoked...yet intensely close to my family, university educated, and overly caring and loyal. Confusing, I get it.) It's not that girls don't like nice guys...it's that girls don't like guys that are nicer than they are.

The whole damsel in distress ploy is a thing of the past. Unless a girl is seriously damaged, there's no need for any saving to be done. We're looking for an equally distressed dude to come along for the ride. I've always said, it's not about finding a partner in life, but a partner in crime. This doesn't mean a rag-tag looking, authority-defying, cad of a man, but simply some one who treats me well because he thinks I'm freaking awesome...and not because he's trying to be the Nice Guy.

Apparently I've been blind to a nice guy or two trying to garner my attention, as my girl friends have pointed out. The argument of nice being boring comes to mind, but really, it's just that sparks didn't fly! Nice or not nice, you need the zsa zsa zou to get any relationship going. So men, quit trying to be the Nice Guy and just be the Awesome Dude...i.e. yourself. We smart girls are bound to see what's real and what's fake sooner than you'd think.

So no, we don't want to be stood up, ignored, lied to or treated like shit in general. We like real men who can handle themselves and us as well without relying on stupid little archetypes. The Asshole might not finish last, and neither does the Nice Guy...but you know who does? The Whiny Nice Guy. x

How to Hone Your Bitch-dar; Keeping Nasty Gals Away

Bitches be crazy. With men, sure. But with other women...well that's a whole other level. When Congreve penned his infamous line hell hath no fury like a woman scorned in the 1600's, he probably should of modified it to anticipate modern times: Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned...by bitches. Now, I'm no hater of other girls by any means. Actually, it's precisely the fact that I'm a girl's girl which makes betrayal of female friendship so unleashing of said fury. So, how does a lovely and loyal girl such as yourself make sure you never feel the bitch betrayal? It's as simple as honing in on your bitch-dar, with these tips and tricks of the girl trade. Allow me to elaborate:

- Hateful on being grateful.

I'm a grateful person by nature; living a happy and fulfilled life is only perpetuated by remaining so, in my opinion. I don't take anything for granted, including friendship. (And travel. And music. And sushi. And dessert. Dessert. And more dessert. Let's just say I'm forever grateful for all desserts.) Get your bitch-dar red flags to half mast if you recognize a girl friend who just seems ungrateful...for everyone and everything in her life. I've seen this more so in models than any other demographic of friends, I assume because being beautiful often makes things come easier than they would for those who have to work for model-afforded perks. (Trips, designer clothes, comped dinner, etc.) This observation is not without exception though as a some of my most mind-blowingly gorgeous model friends also possess the most gratitude. Nonetheless, model or otherwise, if she's ungrateful for what you do for her, it's because she doesn't value it. And girls who value very little have the loyalty levels of zip to zilch. I think I can speak for all thanks-giving girls alike when I say no thanks.

- Lost, lonely, little girl.

I have a ton of girl acquaintances, a fair number of close girl friends, a handful of super close girl friends, and one best friend and one sister, both of whom I would trust with my life...or my last piece of cheesecake. We all stay in pretty much constant communication (maybe a little too much -- I know what my sister eats everyday for every meal and vice-versa...seriously) whether it be via perpetual texting, or in-person hangs. While this sounds excessive, most girls are the same way. While men can be lone wolves of (usually) cultivated mystery and aloofness, women tend to be sharers who bond by doing exactly that -- sharing. (One need only watch the Friends episode where Rachel encourages Ross to share with his guy friends the way she does with her gals to see the benefits.) If a girl says you're her only girl friend, or that she, and I quote "usually doesn't get along with other girls", well honey, it's for a damn reason. Girlfriend is going to screw you over...and soon. Such ostracized members of the female sex tend to thrive on 1) male attention and 2) competition. You'll get in her way and she'll cut you down, or she'll step on you on her way to whatever top spot she deems hers. Pass.

-  Too much, too fast....and not in a good way.

We live in an era of fast friends. You meet out through friends once or twice, you have one solid day time hang, and suddenly you're posting inside jokes on each others' Facebook walls, pre-gaming together before every club outing and proclaiming "OMG loooove you!" all the freaking time. I've been there, you've been there, we've all been there. I'd say one in every twenty of these friendships turn out to be the real thing while the rest...well let's just say easy come, easy go, especially when you're an easy (friendship) ho. Girls that tend to latch on and get all up in your life way too fast just strike me as...odd. There's no need for a friend to social climb over all normal boundaries to either date all your friends or befriend all your friends. It's creepy. It's weird. And there's probably a reason she's running away from her life and taking over yours. Obsessive relationships are for junior high kids and bad movies. (Hello, Swimfan.)

- (Don't) save our souls.

A wise man once told me "You can't save everybody Sheila." Sure, this was at an afterparty at 4 a.m. and that wise man was not sober, but the gist of his words was accurate. I have this habit of finding lost girls and wanting to save them through being there for them...endlessly. This has perhaps been the most acute lesson of my twenties when it comes to friendship: you can't help those who don't want to help themselves. I've been burned more than a few times by still giving myself to such friends who have hurt me simply because I know their lives are more messed than mine will ever be. But alas, some people are beyond my capabilities, or more accurately put, just don't wanna change. Self-loathing, torn families, tragic incidents and substance-fueled pasts don't have to mean dark presents or futures...but if a friend has no desire to change, then c'est la (or c'est their) vie. Not yours.

Finely honing your bitch-dar takes a little know how and a lot of experience. At the ripe old age of 26, I can say I've had a sufficient amount of both the former and the latter. There's no need to be cutthroat or cold about any of this -- but perhaps a little perspective will help with this guide: friendship is a privilege, not a right, and by now I know to bestow this privilege only on those who I see fit. Add positively to my life, or don't add to it at all. Happy honing, my darling readers! Scorned, schmorned...ain't nobody got time for that. x

OMFG - Friends With An Ex

I had dinner with an ex the other night. Not an ex but the ex. My first love who shattered, put back together, and shattered my heart again at least three times during our tumultuous (and that's putting it mildly) three year run. And it was, dare I say, a pleasant experience. Is it possible, that despite the hell we put each other through less than a year ago, we are now able to be friends? Apparently so.

If my ex and I are able to be friends, I can say with a large dose of certainty that most exes can find a spot in the friendship zone. We were, and I cannot stress this enough, volcanic together....pure red lava flowing from every faucet of our bond. We drove each other insane. I think of some of the actions I executed while together with him -- actions that at the time I proceeded to carry out as if they were perfectly normal -- and realize just how close to being exiled to an asylum I was. The same went for him. Passionately in love, sure. Psychotically close to the brink of total sadism, well yes, that as well. At the worst of times we made each other truly miserable and yet here we sat just a few nights ago laughing over our failed attempt at love over Pad Thai and greasy spring rolls.

The experience was liberating and one that made me feel ever so mature. Mature -- the very word gets thrown around carelessly in our twenties; most of the time as a way to try and differentiate oneself when drama arises. (Example: "OMG. I'm way too mature [eye roll] to even care what that bitch said about me. Like way. Too. Mature.") I'm guilty of being the girl who cried maturity on several occasions (us damn twenty-somethings...we've always got something to prove) but this time it wasn't total bullshit. It was a genuine feeling of calm and honesty; two things I never felt while we were dating.

We're not robots, of course, and memories are still memories. But, with enough time apart to get over any residual enabling emotions and the shared goal of actually wanting to be friends, the dinner occurred sans ulterior motives on either end. Why bother, you ask? Because I rather be friends with shared memories than strangers with a shared past. Care, for me at least, isn't an item that comes with an expiry date. It is strictly non-perishable.

As we verbally sifted through our romantic history, there was no nitpicking of this transgression or that indiscretion but simply a recap of the good times. It's true what they say; when you think back on all the big moments of your life, it's the joyful ones that stick the most. Does time heal everything? Nope. But it sure does give us room to grow. Damn, I'm mature.

x

OMFG - Spring Cleaning.

After an almost alarmingly mild winter (global warming much?), the first truly warm days of Spring have hit my dear city of Toronto. And, as with every year, that means a bit of spring cleaning for me. Mainly my closets which tend to overflow with accumulated goods over the year, and sadly the years past. After removing three garbage bags worth of clothing from my double closets, two things were apparent to me: 1) I need to stop buying ugly leopard print shirts and dresses in an attempt to satisfy my hunt for the perfect animal print outfit (feminine, chiffon and preferably Cavalli) and 2) my closets are so much better when following Thoreau's famous words: simplify, simplify.


Well, what's good for my closet is good for life. Clutter, tangible and otherwise is just not conducive to anything. Granted, your twenties is a time of trial and error -- as in figuring out your likes and dislikes when it comes to style, people and overall lifestyle. Fashionably speaking, I've recently come to the conclusion that I just don't care for, or particularly like anything super trendy and would rather invest in a few classic pieces from say, Holts, rather than twenty trendy items from H&M. (I also just can't wrap my head around wearing anything I find remotely silly. This encompasses the entire hipster trend at the moment of crop tops, floral high pants, etc. Maybe I'm just not cool enough.) With the style mantra of feminine, elegant and timeless in mind, I easily rid of all the frivolous and girly pieces I'd long outgrown.

While tossing some ugly jeans is easy enough (I had a light pair that were bedazzled. I kid you not.), it's the non-tangible clutter in our lives that's a little harder to rid of. Deciding what even counts as unnecessary in your life can be a challenge; I know I still have trouble differentiating between what's glamorous and fun and what's detrimental to me. With so many ups and downs being inevitable, keeping one rule in mind seems to be the trick: does this make me happy long term? That last word is key. Instant gratification is easy as pie...it's long term gratification that defines maturity.

Negative influences such as (for me anyway) overly dramatic "friends", selfishness and perhaps the most detrimental of them all, cheesecake, at the end of the day aren't paths to my long term happiness. And, for the most part I've been able to kick them to the curb (except for cheesecake. But I'm working on it...kind of.) These past few warm days have coincided with some wake-up calls in my life lately and what better time of year than nature's rebirth to make some improvements! Nothing crazy -- although my fitness kick made my dad ask me in all seriousness "Are you kidding?" when I said I was going for a run -- but rather a newly conscious way of making decisions. Simply being aware of what impacts us and what doesn't makes a world of a difference. For me this means not letting silly things affect me for the worse, a renewed focus on my writing and loved ones, and my health. A total Spring cleaning I need not: just tweaking and fine-tuning. Bring on the warmer weather.

x

OMFG - Academy Award Inspired

It's Sunday evening and after watching the Oscars, I'm feeling inspired to write. The show was classic, timeless and elegant: all ideals I try to emulate in my life. (And, much like the Oscars, I have my slip up moments; Angelina's right leg, I'm looking at you.) What struck me most about the Academy Awards this year were all the truly heartfelt acceptance speeches. Not one was typical and expected, but instead each was emotional and graceful. It seemed less about the achievement and more about the relationships that brought each person to that moment Consider me smitten.

Unless you're made of stone or a robot (Sure I'm kidding, but I've met many people who come pretty darn close) it was hard not to get choked up during at least one moment. (Octavia Spencer with a win that the whole crowd was happy for was especially poignant) Meryl said it best when she accepted her Best Actress Oscar thanking not her agent and manager, but all her friends she's made throughout the duration of her lengthy career. Well that's just the best endorsement for maintaining friendships that I've ever heard!

I went out five times this week which honestly isn't that unusual for me. Granted I work promoting so three of those nights were in my own business interests, but I wouldn't do it unless I loved it. And I do. There is nothing that energizes me more than going out, having ridiculously good times with my friends and meeting new people. Friends of friends, others who work in the industry, and like-minded people in general all make for networking connections, and some times even evolve into great friendships. Whoever said you can't meet good people at clubs has never been out in Toronto.

I've made more friends from going out than I have from school, modeling and every other significant part of my life combined. And I'm not just talking about partying acquaintances (although there has been no shortage of those) but friends who I see daytime, and actually know well! For every ten duds I meet who have nothing to contribute to life, there's the quality person I meet who is driven, interesting and engaging. I find I have so much in common with my fellow club-goers, usually because of our shared enthusiasm for good times and making the most of life in general. Rarely do I connect closely with people who stay in every night...call it a difference in what you want to get out of life, but whether I'm single, in a relationship, and everything in between, having an overly-active social life in glam venues is a constant. (And glam is key here...it's not like I'm hanging out at Republic five times a week. Let us all collectively shudder at the thought.)

Life, for me at least, is knowing where you want to go and who you want to go there with. At twenty four, I may be still figuring out where I want to go, but I definitely know who I want to be with. My family. My friends. My love. That first is decided, the second I choose and third is still up in the air. Another thing about the second? There's always room for more. Here's to an inspiring Academy Awards and acknowledging all the people we connect with on our way to greatness...x

OMFG - Happy Valentine's Day! (No, Really)

The single girl being bitter on Valentine's Day has been done to death in the media. Burning photos of exes, binge eating chocolates and being an overall weepy mess is an archetype we can recall from our favorite romantic comedies, past and present. (Jennifer Garner beating the crap out of a heart-shaped pinata in Valentine's Day, for one.)  Seeing that in the movies is one thing. Being that in real life is another.

It's just pointless to be a Debbie Downer on Valentine's Day. (Or as my friend Sean has called it for as long as I can remember, Single's Appreciation Day aka S.A.D...ha!) I've been there, done that, and it does nothing except make you more sad. Let me note that in all my 24 years I have never had a successfully romantic V-day. This includes three years with a boyfriend -- and that right there should succinctly tell you why we are no longer together. Still, with that pathetic romantic history in mind, I have no desire to throw rocks at PDA-ing couples or cringe at anything love related.

Aside from the occasional emotional landmine (certain songs are the worst..) I'm pretty much a happy camper on the love front. Any swaying in the other direction is quickly dispelled by the presence of my lovely parents and their flawless 56 year marriage. If being in the presence of true love for your entire life doesn't make a hopeless romantic out of you, I don't know what will.

I'll be spending tomorrow night having dinner with three of my most wonderful friends then hosting a night out (a thrice weekly occurrence as I work in promotions) at Toronto's Thompson rooftop. We named the event Hearts on Fire and many are taking it as the anti-Valentine's day place to be, but really it's just going to be a gathering a good people having a good time. Happy hearts, sad hearts, and most certainly hearts on fire are welcome.

If a recently brutally heartbroken, now single model who works in the jaded nightlife industry can happily support love on its celebratory day, then really, all you Sad Sallies out there have no excuse! Happy Valentine's Day lovers! x

The Afterparty....OMFG

There's a little ritual that happens every week when I'm out with friends at a club. The bass gets softer, the bottles are face down in the ice buckets and everyone starts to get a little restless. My friends and I exchange sheepish glances and it's clear to everyone that even though the venue is closing down, our night is far from over. And thus begins the search for the after party. Oh, the after party! In a city where last call is a relatively early 2 a.m. (In Montreal, we'd all be less motivated after a good extra hour of drinking, and in NYC, being up until the sunrise is usually a given..) the search for the after party is a regularly occurring ritual for nights out. Over my years out and about on the scene I've seen them all...from sketchy iron-barred hole-in-the-walls on Spadina, to three story penthouses overlooking the water, and everything in between.

It begins with texting. You message your friends who are out and about across the city and see who is willing to volunteer their desirable digs to have people over. If it's not a friend, then it's a friend of a friend. Or, more likely, a dude who knows the neighbor of a friend of a friend of a friend, but is totally loaded and just wants to have a good time. And in the hours after 2 a.m., that's really the common goal here: having a good time. That pursuit of (temporary) happiness as it may be is what brings together the most random assortment of people. I've walked into after parties only to notice after a few minutes that aside from the people I've shown up with, I recognize absolutely no one there. I've also walked into after parties and right back out because there have been more than a few people I would rather not spend time with. Unless I know the owner of the house personally or am the instigator of the shady shindig, it's a lotto game when it comes to the crowd: everyone from my good friends, to industry, to drug dealers, to loose gold-diggers and hipsters. (I'll let you decide just how many of those categories overlap. Clue? Too many.)

Those that are in couples, have office jobs in the early morning or scheduled end-times in their heads to their night need not apply to the after party process. Sure, there are exceptions to every rule (and as half of a couple who used to party hard with her ex, I'll share this: it's fun at first to have a boyfriend/partner in crime, but when you're serious with some one, you just want to hang out alone at 4a.m.) The after party is for those who went out looking for something and aren't satisfied by the time the club dies down -- whether it be a bootycall, riding out the rest of a high, or simply a desire to connect with some one new, we're all looking for something, or some one, when we make our way into the next dimly lit premise.

Sketchiness aside, I've had some amazing times at after parties, which probably happen more than I'd like to admit. What makes the difference for me between sketchiness and sketchy good times is the company; and fortunately I'm always armed with a pretty awesome crew of friends and solid people. That's another goal one can have when it comes to after hours: it doesn't have to be about sex or drugs, but simply just extending a good night out with friends. Fun, friends, and just a little bit of scandal....the perfect mix for after parties in our lovely city. Happy hunting fellow nightcrawlers!
x

OMFG - Eat What You Love...A Haut Appetit Connection

As Toronto Fashion Week takes over the city, models once again are in the spotlight, ready to be scrutinized by the media, fashionistas and the general public. Whoever said modeling was an easy job has never done it -- only those with thick skin should apply. Thick skin, however, is the only part of a model that is allowed to be thick as rail-thin is still the ideal body-type. I don't care how many fashion organizations vow to use models with body types of a certain BMI, or cast "curvier" models every once in a while: fashion has always featured extremely thin women. Everything else is simply for good publicity or sympathetic smiles from the fashion elite. We're all dying to be thin, thin and thinner.

Well, not all of us! I've been lucky enough to be naturally quite thin (while still being able to eat as much as I please for the most part) and find that the girls I become close friends with in the industry share my view on food: eat what you love, just don't stuff your face. I've never been one for extreme dieting, unhealthy means of staying skinny (read: laxatives and other unpleasant forceful removal..), juice cleanses or anything else along those lines. It's all too impractical for me. Life is for living, and that, in my opinion, includes ordering dessert when out for dinner with your boyfriend, making grilled cheese when you feel like vegging out and doing nothing at home, or sampling all the various gourmet hor dourves when at a party. Anyone who has the willpower to censor themselves every minute of the day with food is probably not the happiest...after all, a starving model is never a happy model. Give me the happy glow of a well-fed woman over the grayish tinge of an emaciated waif any day.

My closest friend from modeling, Elizabeth Minett, (or Minny as I call her) shares a similar philosophy when it comes to chowing down: mainly that we both turn into miserable cows when hungry, and become gentle purring kittens when with a bellyful of delights. Minny and I first bonded a couple years back when we met during a fashion show we were both in....a week later and we were sharing gossip over late-night greasy Chinese food after a night of clubbing. Chow mein? Yes please! Chicken balls? Why not! Fried rice? Of course! It was love at first bite for Minny and I and we've had many a food adventure in whatever city we happen to be in together since then. (Cupcakes in New York, pub fare in London and sushi in Miami, just to name a few!) To know there are other models out there with beautiful figures who enjoy food as much as I do was, and is, refreshing. Minny lands more than her share of jobs making it clear that girls who eat are not just happy, but damn sexy as well!

Minny + cupcake = <3

Minny is a baking enthusiast and has parlayed her passion for all things ooey, gooey and delicious into a blog of her own which follows the world of haute healthy eating from the perspective of a stunning model. We recently took a cupcake tour of Manhattan stopping at several well-known cupcake shops and sampling treats at each one to take tasty notes for her to blog about post-meal....a pumpkin cupcake at Sugar Sweet Sunshine, a vanilla bean cupcake and banana cream pie at Magnolia, a sugar-free cupcake from The Little Cupcake Shoppe...suffice to say it was heavenly!

While sitting around and indulging in cupcakes everyday is not the healthiest of lifestyles, it was a lovely way to spend a day. Don't get me wrong; neither of us chows down on burgers and fries daily, but we do eat when we're hungry and enjoy desserts just as much as we enjoy healthy foods. I feel sexier, happier, and most content when my body is at its natural weight as opposed to being a frail five or ten pounds lighter which would fit industry norms. I don't allow modeling to dictate what I eat, and more importantly how I live my life, and would much rather share a tapas dinner with friends than sit alone at home counting how many grapes I'm allowed that day. Minny and I have gossiped over late night Chinese, chatted over spicy salmon rolls, discussed life crisis's over slices of cheesecake and had girl talk over salads. Food is friendship for us and is part of the equation without a second thought; which is exactly how it is in both our lives. Fashion week, Schmashion week! Girls, once again I re-iterate: eat what you love, but don't stuff your face (unless it's on really good cupcakes..) and you'll be lovely as ever on the inside and out.

For a Minny & Sheilakins approved recipe, Flourless Chocolate Walnut Cookies (Big. Fat. MMMMM), go to Minny's Haut Appetit Blog here!

Haut Appetit's Flourless Chocolate Walnut Cookies!

OMFG - The Moody Blues

Have you ever had one of those days where you just don't want to get out of bed? Either it's because you're tired from a busy work week, feeling plain lazy or, let's face it -- are probably mildly to severely hungover based on the events of the night before. We've all had those days, especially when fluffy duvet covers, silky pillows and freshly laundered sheets are involved. Now how about one of those days where you just can't get out of bed? It's not because you're physically unable too from fatigue or are so hungover the task of walking seems impossible, but rather because it seems pointless, hopeless, or meaningless. Your bed is no longer a throne of dreams and comfort but a sluggish welt in your room that is pulling you into masses of heavy blankets instead of being able to breathe fresh air. If you've ever felt the latter, even to a small degree, then you're probably familiar with some form of mild depression.

This isn't a PSA about the signs and treatments for such a disease, but rather a simple post about how we, as twenty-somethings, are prone to experiencing symptoms of it in our own unique way. I will admit that I've experienced bouts of panic, anxiety and the blues throughout my years. Yes, I'm a highly functioning social person who is, for the most part, a happy person, but also a highly emotional and complicated being who doesn't always have ration and logic. My hypersensitivity leaves it so that I am often bothered by things that shouldn't bother me, and I am at times left to wonder why everyone else seems so fine with things that I just can't seem to get past. I've had days where I feel so tired and weighed down for no reason at all, cannot stop crying, and feel useless. While such episodes are usually spurred by emotional reactions to relationship issues and whatnot, they were occurring enough that I've looked into therapy several times. The first time I never got around to it, and the second time the therapist told me at our first visit that "it doesn't really seem like you need to be in therapy." Um, excuse me? Reassuring I suppose in some ways, but also frustrating in that I felt not depressed enough that I could be diagnosed and treated, but affected enough that it made life difficult a lot of the time.

Being in your twenties is hard. Wonderful in a sense that yes, we are relatively carefree (not many of us have kids to worry about yet, broken hips and other health issues that hit later on and are young enough to still be able to party until 5am and be up for work at 9), and the world is ours for the taking, but hard nonetheless. It's when we're supposed to figure out our entire lives career-wise, romantically, and financially all the while figuring out just who we are. It is the most uncertain decade in every which way for us and this can lead to everything that I know I've personally gone through.

Let's not take this too lightly. If you're sitting in bed eating a tub of ice cream and crying to your girlfriends on the phone about another failed relationship, you're not depressed. If you're down on yourself and cancel on a bro's night because you didn't get that promotion you thought you had in the bag at work, you're not depressed. And if you're worried that your weight is up 3 pounds and that's why that other chick landed that magazine cover and not you, you're not depressed. Yes, being in our twenties has trials and tribulations like all decades, but it's only if they affect you deep down, in a sense that they're issues ice cream and a night in can't solve...well that's when you should perhaps seek help. If they affect you to a point that you feel you can't function on a day to day level, that's when a little warning buzzer should be ringing in your head.

What seems to be a good system, for me at least, is recognizing when a blue episode is on its way. I know what my warning signs are, and when I see one or two pop up, I become proactive in reversing them. Whether it be through talking to a loved one, becoming physically active or keeping busy, it all helps to hopefully avoid the downfall all together. Acknowledging the things that upset you in life and how they affect you is a crucial way to making sure such factors don't reoccur.

Mental issues are hard to acknowledge and at times even harder to reach out and get help for. Since there are no physical symptoms, the severity of such issues are murky waters. Nothing is more frustrating than trying to convince some one of your feelings and being dismissed as simply "moody". What I do know is that the people who tell you to simply "buck up" or that "it's just a phase and you'll get over it" probably haven't experienced it themselves. I trust my instinct like no other and know when I'm feeling something, I'm feeling it and no amount of partying, or other distractions will take my mind off of it. (Although partying sure does help some times...) So my point of this somewhat somber post is, my dear blogees, that the moody blues have a tendency to hit even the best and brightest of us in our twenties. Dealing with it, no matter how mild or severe is up to you. Staying happy and being well sure beat gray skies and tears, now doesn't it?
x

For references and where to find help:
Depression Meetings
Counseling Services
Recognizing Symptoms

OMFG -- Calling all gentlemen!

I hosted a one-off night at a club I've never been to and witnessed something I haven't in a long while -- a club fight. As messy, drunken, pig-headed physical brawl that started with two equally pig-headed alpha-males inside the club and, thanks to two burly bouncers removing their drunk asses from the premises, spewed out onto the streets. From what I saw, it was a little spat over egos that turned into a full-out body throw-down because both parties were highly inebriated. I think I speak for most well-to-do women out there when I say guys getting into bar fights over idiotic stupidities is quite possibly the most unattractive thing ever. Which brings me to the question that's been floating around in my head the entire cab ride home...where have all the gentlemen gone?

Sure, defending a woman's honor is perhaps the only mildly acceptable justification for a bar fight -- and even then, it's much sexier, to me at least, when a man can conquer a jerk with a few choice words instead of fists. Perhaps working in the nightlife industry, or doing most of my socializing in it, has dulled my impression of the male population since most of the guys I meet are, how shall I phrase this nicely....massive douchebags. There are the men who can't keep a conversation going at eye-level, the men who walk in front of me and let doors slam in my face, the men who buy drinks and expect the world from you because of it, and finally the men who seem gentlemanly at first, but then want recognition beyond belief because they did some minor gesture for you. Dude, you held my hand so I could climb past the crowd and into the booth -- I'm not going to get out any medals just yet. I guess gentlemen for show are a-plenty in the clubbing world since peacocking is what most are out to do (who's surrounded by the hottest girls, who can ball with the most bottles, who can behave the most gentlemanly and make sure everyone sees it...I could go on) but those that make sure us girls feel comfortable simply because they care are a dying breed.

Obviously we live in a modern world and woman are the equals of men in more ways than ever, but come on, would it kill anyone to recognize we're still exquisite creatures who deserve a little extra consideration every now and then? Honest to goodness I once had a boy I was dating literally run ahead of me in the snow because he was cold while I maneuvered dangerously over the icy sidewalks in nothing but heels and bare legs. Yes, really. That may be more of a reflection on my choice in men, but still, you get the point! The tailoring of a true man lies in his subtleties in my opinion, and actions like discreetly paying the dinner bill before it even comes to the table, covering the door charge without us even knowing there was one, and yes, simple gestures like guiding us through crowded spots without trying to feel us up go a hell of a long way. Sophisticated, patient, and classy are words I like associate with both my male and female friends...and any potential boyfriends I might add, and so far, my girlfriends are effortlessly winning. How many times have we as girls called other girls our "boyfriends" for the night, or joked about each other as "wifeys' and whatnot? Sure, part of it is because girlfriends tend to be really close, but it's also because we know our girlfriends will take care of us in a way most men just can seem to grasp.

So to all the men out there who have ladies in their lives they care about...a mom, girlfriend, crush, friend, whoever it may be, take a little time to go at her pace when need be. And, if you take but one thing away from this entire post let it be this: make sure you hold her damn hand when she's walking over icy sidewalks in heels and bare legs. That is all.
x

OMFG -- Girls be Crazy.

Girls are crazy. I don't mean that in a derogatory way by any means -- crazy is a good thing in my books and oh boy, let me reiterate...girls are crazy. Just nuts. Psycho. Bananas, if you will. If there's one thing I've learned in my twenties thus far, it's that girls are crazy and boys are stupid. As far as men go, well there isn't much to say there. Under-thinking and over-acting results in stupid. End of story. But women.....oh goodness. We could write novels and novels on the highly complicated and intricately intertwined way through which women are perceived as crazy! So allow me touch upon Chapter One at least in the Great American Novel of Women: being cray-cray in your twenties.

The height of my dear fellow girls manic years appear to be our twenties. Blame it on impending maturity, blame it on constant change, or simply blame it on the al-a-a-al-a-alcohol baby, either way I'm sure we've all met, dealt with, or purposefully spilled our drinks on what can only be described as some crazy ass bitches. However, all crazy ass bitches start off as normal, pleasant girls. It usually is a slow decent from there with crippling factors such as boys, friends, frenemies, boys, careers, parties, and what's that? More boys. Women are the only creatures I know of who can love and despise each other so frequently and effervescently. I have literally had girls tell me "I love you!" only to smack talk me to the next person they turn to. I've also experienced varying relationships with girls whom I am super tight with, then suddenly cannot deal with anymore. It's a variety of factors really, all in motion all at the same time, perpetually and complicatedly that spin through a girls' head and get untangled and re-tangled when mixed with the emotions, security levels, and confidence issues she happens to be dealing with on whatever particular day. I'm not advocating that men are less emotionally complicated creatures....no wait, that's exactly it. Either that, or they just choose to ignore their emotions, something I can assure you no girl can do on a regular basis.

One only has to look at pop culture to see this bitches-be-crazy trend is widespread. Anyone see Bridesmaids this weekend? (Hilariously funny and not just in a raunchy way -- Team Wiig for the win!) Long story short, putting a group of girlfriends together in a high-stress situation (that being planning a wedding-- anyone who says otherwise is lying!) ends up in pent-up psycho rants, tears, and jealousy. Oh jealousy...the green-eyed monster born from insecurity is, in my opinion, the root of 95% of all girls gone crazy. No one waltzes into their twenties entirely sure of themselves (anyone who says otherwise..totally lying again) and when you're in a scene where looks get you places, maintaining ideals of perfection can be an obsession. Throw in other factors (once again, I'm going to stress boys, the little devils) and you've got situation after situation where girls feel they need to validate themselves in one way or another. I'm a self-admitted possessive person (I'm going to blame it on me being a typical Taurus...and nothing else) and nothing grates a girl's self esteem like a little bout of jealousy. Sadly, for most girls it's instinct to get fiercely jealous whenever they see other hot girls around. Tearing them down is an easy way to cement your own self-esteem but ultimately an immature tactic.

Girl on girl hate is so rife in the clubbing and modeling world, and within any social group really. It's ridiculous and unjustified, and I've been on both ends of it throughout my teen and twenties. However, making a conscious effort to be a sister instead of a hater is an easy one and one I've tried to follow in recent years. I'm nice to everyone for the most part (unless something mean is done, then obviously I'd stand my ground....strongly too.) and it's so much easier, nicer, and well, better for your self-esteem at the end of the day to be a lover not a fighter. Why bother ripping apart the beautiful girl who just walked into your casting? It's so much better to get to know her and end up partying together til 4am that weekend.

Acknowledging such a simple rules as "be nice to others" may appear juvenile, obvious and most of all logical....but from one female twenty-something to you all, trust me when I say there is no logic as a girl in your twenties. Just a whole of cray cray.
x

OMFG -- Another twentysomething Bday!

In a little under an hour, it's my birthday. That means I'll be 24 which means I'll be one year away from 25 which is basically almost at 30, which is just a tad away from 40, which is middle-aged and holy crap, I'm basically halfway to my deathbed! Aaaaand deep breath. As you can see, birthday celebrations have changed from the cake-filled, care-free parties of my youth to ticking little time bombs (I always picture those ones from the Mario games that march at you with cranks on their stupid backs) that remind me I've lost another year. Granted, at least my Asian genes have saved me from counting the wrinkles for now (actually, this is the one area I don't mind gaining another year -- I feel sexier with every number added to my age for goodness knows why. Chalk it up to confidence and experience), but feel like I have so much more to do and so little time to do it whenever May 17th rolls around on the calendar.

Of course, this usually is mirrored for the most part in my career. Or lack there-of at the moment. After watching The Social Network I literally muttered "Fuck you, Zuckerberg." for making every single twenty-something on the face of this earth feel like a hopeless underachiever. Yes, I've gained a lot of life experience, traveled somewhat thoroughly, obtained a degree, loved and loss and loved again, made friends I wouldn't trade for all the Spring/Summer 2011 collections in the world, and grown wiser (well let's hope) than the person I was years ago, but I've yet to prove it all in the bank and nothing says tick tick tick like a lack of major ka-chings! I've been fortunate enough to hold great jobs at the University of Toronto and made some pretty sweet cash modeling, but as I get older I realize I need something that pays big and is, more importantly, stable. As my mom used to say when I was little, half-jokingly and perhaps half-worriedly: "Sheila my darling, you will need to make a lot of money because you like nice clothes and you like seafood." Oh goodness, was she ever right.

But, enough of the money talk for the time being! I have confidence in my intelligence and ambition and therefore know that something will arise soon, and when it does I'll be ready to jump on it. (Well that, or I'm going grab it by the balls. I am never one to wait for anything other than my order to come in restaurants. And even then I glare at the waitresses. Seriously, how long does sushi take? It's not even cooked.) I also have confidence in my ability to work hard, something I see missing in many of the twenty-somethings I've chatted with while out and about. Nothing worth having in this world comes easy, and I'm fully prepared to work my ass off for whatever I think is worth it.

With that noted, a relative peace of mind --at least for this week so I can celebrate stress-free --I am excited to see what comes next during my 24th year! If the past is any indication, it should be one filled with beautiful times with friends, exciting endeavors around the world, partying like there's no tomorrow, gaining the knowledge I need to go further than I have before, opportunities I never dreamed of, and as always, just enough romance and scandal to keep things interesting. I'm sure the stress of forming my career will hit be in about a week, when all the hangovers and confetti have passed, but hey -- at least I know I still look pretty damn good. ;-)
x

OMFG.....the Drama!!!

"She's pure drama." Those were the dismissive last words a friend of mine spoke of another friend, whom she is currently on the outs with. The word drama has come to have a decidedly negative connotation among social groups meaning some one who brings gossip, backstabbing, and all other things we'd all like to think we left behind in middle school. What exactly passes for drama when we're in our mid-twenties? Gossip, backstabbing, of course, are still relevant, but now the word also seems to encompass any situation that does not get resolved quickly and tidily in a relatively short amount of time. Being a woman in her mid-twenties with emotions and intelligence, I'm sure I can vouch for other women of similar emotional and intellectual levels in saying that not all situations have a tidy means of ending.
Personally, I've never been one to be accused much of being a "drama" starter. I'm generally rational and when going through something in my personal life, I try it keep it just that, personal. However, I'm not immune to illogical bouts of feelings that leak past my personal walls, or drunken spouts of spazzing at those I soberly feel deserve a lashing when I'm in an unpleasant mood and about four martinis in. If you're a woman and reading this, chances are you can sympathize with my ordeals. But, if you're a man, and anything like the men (or boys, as I think many of them are. No offense to the true gentlemen readers out there.) I've had to deal with thus far in my twenties, your train of thought might be something along the lines of "Damn, these chicks are crazy!!" Ah, men. Perhaps the most dismissive of them all when it comes to labeling girls as "drama". There's no need for me to get into the tired and true argument that yes, woman are indeed more emotionally driven versus the so-called logical thinking of men -- it's common knowledge by now.
Granted, there are dozens of dizzy dolls out there for whom throwing a tantrum or acting haughtily and princess-like can be triggered by the pettiest of actions; you know, those girls who gather their Plastics together and conspire against that girl they barely know because she may or may not have been talking to one of their ex-boyfriends from a million years ago. Immature idiocy aside, twenty-something woman of reasonable persona definitely do not lack emotionally trying and at times downright tough episodes in life. Love, deception, death, friendships, change and careers are all topics we go through perpetually but seem especially exposed when experiencing them for the first time during this decade. Such legitimate experiences warrant a little drama, in my opinion at least.
The next time you find yourself dealing with some one who appears to be "pure drama", ask yourself a couple questions; Is the drama justified? (Quick note: all situations involving clothes, guys who are dicks, hair extensions and dirty looks need not apply.) If it is, how can you be there for them? Because really, that's all drama is -- a little cry for some support and just as easily as said support is given, the drama disappears.
x

OMFG -- Winter Blues

I've become one of those people you cringe at when seated next to on public transportation. One of those sniffling, germ-infested, red-nosed, diseased carriers that makes you flinch every time they move a muscle. This slightly disgusting state of being can be attributed to my home and native land, Canada. Or, more specifically, Canada in the winter! For all you foreign readers out there, let me paint you a picture: Toronto transforms from a palette-rich, mildly weathered, lively and energetic city in the autumn to a white-washed, stark, bare landscape ridden with grimy gray buildings and crowds of heavily weighed-down citizens whom trudge through the streets like depressed zombies. Call it a post-apocalyptic urban scene -- I have to call it home for the next month or so.

With the onslaught of white stuff that continually covers the outside world come other unpleasant side effects: howling winds, temperatures of below minus 20 degrees Celsius, and skies that turn dark not too long after waking up. All of this combined makes for one depressing season. Torontonians are prone to the winter blues and, aside from work are also prone to hibernation. I've been in hibernation mode for the past little while myself, partially to avoid being ostracized on the subway and partially because going out in this weather becomes more of a mission than mayhem. When socializing entails a balancing act over ice on heels, freezing barely-covered panty-hosed legs and pricey cab rides to avoid frost-bite -- well it's no wonder even social butterflies like myself are choosing beds over bottles.

So just how are we chilly Canadians supposed to snap out of the winter blues? By moving our social lives home! Cozy gatherings at my friend's condos have been my staple lately and a nice change of pace from the usual thumping beats and scantily-clad scene I'm used to. Of course nights out are a must (after all, nothing warms up the body quite like a steady stream of vodka) but definitely less frequent during the season. While smallish shindigs don't scream "cool" like drunken fiascoes at a club, they're lovely in that you can have actual conversations without having to scream over music and delightfully low-key. My best friend recently hosted a board game night (with drinks, of course) with our close friends and it was the perfect way to spend a Saturday! We started off with appetizers and cocktails and relished in the entertainment of watching each other progressively get sloppier at the games as the night moved on. (Anyone who can coherently describe nouns in Taboo after four Bahama Mama's is my hero.) Actually, any PG activity from our pre-legal years is a good basis for a night in...throw in drinks and good friends and you've got yourself the perfect one-night getaway.

Our last board game night was a hit and I'm sure it'll happen again soon...in the mean time I'm still in hibernation mode. I'll probably venture out this weekend, so if any of you dear bloggees see some one dancing at a club in a Snuggie -- it's probably me.
x

OMFG -- Promo-whoring 101

Between the posting, tweeting, blogging and bbming, I'm surprised any of us have time for breathing! Social media has allowed anyone with half an ego and a little bit of talent to become their own self-promotional media sensation. I'm a self-admitted Facebook fanatic and Crackberry addict (my Blackberry battery lasts a half-day on average. I travel with the charger in my purse....seriously.), and have learned with time how easily connections made online can equal real life opportunities. So, how does one balance personal with promotional? There's a fine line between keeping the interest of your followers (Twitter-speak, not cult-speak for those of you out of the loop) and having the online personality of cardboard.

To preface, I am by no means a media mogul when it comes to social networking. I try and keep Facebook to modeling and party pictures, because let's face it, no one's interested in seeing uploads of me, say waking up in the morning or anything else routine. However, being the emotionally exploding person that I am (it's touching on the best of days and downright neurotic with a dab of maudlin on the worst) I tend to catch myself emotionally binging on the site via cryptic statuses and whatnot every now and then. Usually such trivial posts get deleted once I come to my senses, but if some one were to creep my account constantly, I'm sure they could put together a nice little timeline of my emotional episodes. (That, by the way,  is by no means encouragement. Girls are moody bitches. Get used to it.) That being said, I am observant of those who have perfectly poised yet endlessly entertaining and most importantly genuinely expressed profiles which in today's world can be powerful tools of opportunity.

First things first: nobody cares about your personal life. Until you reach levels of popularity that those fame-whoring Kardashian sisters will envy, it's safe to say that the general online public, excluding friends (if that...let's be honest.) does not give a darn about who you're dating or why you're cutting up pictures and sniffling to Bruno Mars. If you're anything like me, or worse, and just cannot help emotional vomiting all over that little blue and white screen, it's best to keep Facebook for personal friends and another online account for professional matters.
Whether you're a DJ, model, PR rep or other persona where personal promotion is an asset, thinking successful is undoubtedly part of the journey to being successful. In other words, every action you participate in that deals with your job is something worth posting. Whether it be a behind-the-scenes shot of you getting your make-up done, or a rough demo recording of an upcoming track, if it's of interest to your product, it's of interest to your online image. The busier you are the better -- the most interesting news-feeds to me are the ones where there is a constant momentum towards new ideas. Or, to put it bluntly, the news-feeds of those who get shit done and get it done fast.
Last of all, share what makes you happy. If you're in the right field, this should overlap with your passion anyways and thus make it easy to promote your professional self. But random things, like hilarious moments you've somehow captured with the click of your Torch or a snap of anything else that triggers a smile or thought are ways to inflict personality in your posts. Obvious as this sounds, there are countless of self-promoting individuals out there who have remarkably boring updates despite being immensely talented at what they do. No one wants to follow Promoter Cardboard of the online world because chances are his parties are just as droll.

My own Twitter account has been dormant for almost a year now --- I'm about the take my own advice and prep for a relaunch! You'll be seeing me in your virtual worlds darling bloggees...and if you're promo-savvy I'll see you in mine!
x

OMFG -- the Superficial.

I nod my head politely as the girl in front of me asks mundane questions about my life. "Good! And you?" has been my response more than once. We've met many times, and we're "friends" enough...we've even hung out during the day, albeit with our respective boyfriends in tow at the time. Suffice to say, I've spent enough time with this girl to know her as more than an acquaintance....yet as we chat here in a crowded club sipping our drinks, I am utterly and totally unfocused. Some girl's glittery purse is holding my attention more than this conversation. I've come to conclusion that, while undeniably beautiful in appearance,  dressed to the nines and lovely in all ways the eye can see... this girl is boring. I don't feel bad for thinking this only because it isn't a snap judgement -- after spending as much time with her as I have, I can safely say she has slim to zilch of a personality. Interestingly enough, this girl is insanely popular and is very much a permanent fixture in the nightlife scene in the city. Yes Toronto, I guess we really are that superficial.
Maybe everyone sees something in her I don't, or maybe we simply don't click -- but I think it's more everyone is just insanely superficial. Let's face it; as long as you're beautiful, you're accepted. "Wouldn't it be a ridiculous world if everyone worshiped models?" a friend of mine once joked over coffees in London earlier this year. "But don't they already?" was my other friends brisk but truthful response. How else can one explain the social lauds of some one who's the personality equivalent of expired tofu? Simple: as long you look good, people want to be seen with you. At least in the circles of the city's self-proclaimed young, hip, and fashionable. Beauty equaling convenience isn't ground-breaking news in any way, but it certainly is something worth acknowledging when out and about in the city. Throw a hot dress on a decent looking girl and she's pretty much guaranteed access to a club sans cover and probably into a booth where the drinks are free depending on how forward she is. Throw a hot dress on an agency-rate model and well, there's no stopping what she can do! I'd be lying if I said I hadn't taken advantage of this myself -- waltzing into booths where I barely know the promoters or bottle-buyers is something I've done on many an occasion (albeit graciously as I can) and it fascinates me that this is something I have the privilege of doing simply because some people think I'm pretty. I'm grateful for it, but boggled by it at the same time. But really, as a twenty-something who is just looking to have a fun night out for the most part, I can't really complain.
Obviously the difference between your party friends and real friends is that you actually know your real friends; inside jokes, advice doling and shoulders to lean on trump bottle shots, drunk spewings of "No! I love you!!!", and empty compliments any day. I've been lucky enough to have more than several party friends become real friends the difference being, to start with anyways, is that you see them during daylight hours. Like Carrie and her gals once said about Big, "daytime makes it real!" and I couldn't agree more. Without flashing lights, total sloppiness and an atmosphere where one can get away with anything, you can actually start to get to know the girl behind the sequin dress or the guy behind the v-neck and loafers.
Oh superficiality! For some one who's in the business where my looks are literally my selling point, I guess it's allowed me to dwell on the subject more than I would had I another job. I'm both appreciative and frustrated at how simple things can be when one is seen as good-looking. As long as you don't take it too seriously and are rendered personality-less by it (seriously guys, the equivalent of expired tofu.) it's an interesting world to be a part of. I know my friends are my friends based on awesomeness and nothing else, so in that respect I know I'm still grounded. Capitalizing on what you have is one thing; becoming totally lame and boring  because of how convenient the world is to you is another. Give me engaging conversation, martini-coming-out-of-my-nose laughter and genuine caring any day; all the other stuff gets old. x

OMFG -- No Tomorrow.

I slowly opened my eyes the other morning in bed and, to my horror, the sun wasn't just shining...it was sending laser beams of light into my corneas. Not only that, but my normally serene room was spinning and in disarray (did I always throw my bra up on my curtain rod before bed?) and the normally slight murmur of the gardeners working on my street sounded like metal gravel being churned into my ears. Okay, I may be exaggerating but only because I was extremely hungover, and probably still a little wasted from the night before! Yes, it may of been a Monday but it was a holiday Monday and so, like any self-respecting person with a holiday the next day, I made it my personal mission to drink like there was no tomorrow the night before.
Obviously there is always a tomorrow but when you're in your twenties it never quite seems to feel like it....especially when you're highly inebriated and surrounded by people who seem to think the same. Ah, your twenties; perhaps the only time in life one gets away with such socially questionable behaviour, and gets away with it while looking good and with a smirk plastered on his or her face. To feel consequence-less is definitely something of a fleeting era confined to those in our age bracket ...behave the same way any older and it looks either 1) desperately sad or 2) highly irresponsible -- don't you have kids to go home to or something? But living like there's no tomorrow now is perfectly acceptable and we twenty-somethings should take full advantage of such amazing karmic rights.
All debauchery should be carried out with discretion, none of us want to end up like such tabloid fodder as Lindsay Lohan. Seriously, when the whole world knows you're a mess and you still are in denial, that's when you know your consequence-less days are over. There's a fine line between appreciatively enjoying these carefree days and going shamelessly overboard to a point of no recovery. A perfect example of the latter in the news recently (or rather always it seems) is Paris Hilton. With all her money, supposed "hidden" smarts she hides with a surprisingly convincing dumb-as-dirt persona and all her experience with handling the media, Paris has managed to get herself arrested -- again! -- this time for cocaine possession. The last report I read said something to the likes of "Hilton thought cocaine was gum! Purse containing drug was not hers because it wasn't designer!" Of course it was gum! I always take my gum in powder form up my nose, my toothpaste in joint form that I light up and smoke and my mouthwash comes in little tablets that have an "e" on them! I mean, come on. Hilton and Lohan are sorely tragic examples of two girls who were literally given anything they wanted in the world and still managed to mess it up. A little lesson in grace here young Hollywood: when the world is your playground, have fun on the monkey bars, but don't climb to the top of the jungle gym, take a shot of Jack, then face-plant into misery. Well, not more than a few times anyways.
The universe, or society, whichever it is we in our twenties happen to believe in at the moment, seems to have set aside a pardon on youth when it comes to forgiveness. Acts of brutality aside (we're not talking murder or anything here people), it seems as though a misdemeanor here, a one night stand there, and a passing out in goodness knows where can all be chalked up as "learning " experiences for now, from which we're expected to mature and know better from. Now I know I've had more than my share of "learning experiences" and it's true, once you go through them once (or twice) it's not likely to happen again because let's face it: been-there-done-that syndrome occurs to even the craziest of the party crowd. 
The message here is simple my lovely readers: live it up now while everything still is your playground and before we all start having relatively substantial things in life to worry about. That trip to Ibiza you want to take but can't quite justify? Go. That thing that seems like a really good idea at 4 a.m. that you know you shouldn't? Do it. Those really expensive shoes you want to roll up in this weekend just because? Buy them. Mistakes are only mistakes when we allow them to be, and now is when we should be making them. Live and learn is the simplest, yet truest saying there is and we twenty-somethings should be living those words to the fullest. 
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O snip, M snip, F snip G snip..

 While sipping a French Martini on the patio of some nondescript lounge in the city the other hot summer night, a girl I'm friends-ish with sauntered on over and said a friendly hello. Actually -- let me clarify: the conversation went like this: "Oh. Em.Gee. Hi gorgeous! It's been soooo long! Backhanded compliment about my dress and how awesome Zara is for getting cheap clothes. What are you up to these days?! Inappropriate comment about my ex and why our relationship failed. We should totally get coffee some time! Jealous comments about some model pics I posted on Facebook ages ago. Anyways, it's sooooo good seeing you! Oh. Em. Gee!!! One more backhanded compliment for the road. Apparently my hair was going limp from the humidity." That's right bloggees, I had encountered the dreaded frenemy. For those of you not up to speed on the many shades of friends present in this complex social realm, I offer you a brief refresher course: Frenemies can be described as girls you know and occasionally hang out with who do all the talking while you roll your eyes and think in your head "Bitch, please!" They're easier to be nice to than not be nice to, simply because you know girlfriend would become a vindictive little pain in the ass if you were to, say, brush off her stories about how she just spent the last two weeks retouching her hair to get it just the right shade of peroxide blonde. Gay boys can fall under the frenemy category as well, but straight boys are exempt of the rule since, well, straight boys are incapable of being anything but straightforward and logical when it comes to friendships. (Which is sweet and all, but come on, we all know girls and gay boys are the ones who run this social business.)
I personally don't find it too hard to deal with frenemies. I've had my share and for the most part, I find them harmless and even amusing...I mean you don't even have to do any talking, they're a conversation within themselves! I've perfected standing there, nodding my head with a smile plastered on and offering advice as sincerely as I can when they tell me about problems they're going through even though I really don't know much about them aside from the fact that they like their martinis dry.
However, it's when a frenemy turns toxic, and not in that sexy, mysterious way Britney breathily sings about, that you have to do some snipping. Cutting out toxic friends is like social tailoring for me: you want to make sure your social circle is made to fit you perfectly, no loose ends, no rough edges and certainly no extra pins leftover in your custom YSL shirts to stab you in the back!
A site a I frequently visit, TresSugar, recently posted "10 Signs of a Toxic Friend", and if you know any frenemies of yours who fits even half of this list, it's time to sharpen the blade. Check out the link below!
http://www.tressugar.com/Toxic-Friend-Signs-7659989
The list is effective and precise when it comes to singling out exactly what makes a friend toxic, but if you prefer a simpler method, ask yourself one question: "Does this person make me happy?" If the answer is a big fat no, be confident that your life will be better sans the frenemy. Cutting a person entirely out entirely may seem harsh, but what has to be done has to be done and your future, happier self will thank you later. While most frenemies are harmless, it's the ones that drain the positive energy out of our lives that raise red flags. Just imagine how much lovelier a conversation I could of had with some snipping: "Oh. Em. Gee. Snip!" Bitch, please.
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OMFG BFF!

While no one past the age of twelve says BFF in any seriousness, the value of friendship is definitely something of priority and importance in my life. My girlfriends always used to say it was a red flag if you were dating a guy who had no friends because it usually means homeboy doesn't, and won't ever, give a tiny rat's ass about anyone other than himself. [Just to note: I could write a novel -- no, an entire encyclopedia library on that specific subject, but we'll get around to that another day!]
Friends are essential in every twenty something's life and if you look around at who you're friends with, it's probably a pretty good indicator of who you are. Our twenties are when we live out all those cliches you saw in movies growing up; you know the ones I'm referring to: 'Who am I? What is love? Will I ever get over this?' and we inevitably go through the phases of all these cliches with friends by our side. A growing period, the decade also results in the loss of a lot of friends for reasons as simple as you outgrew them. We all know those buddies who haven't changes a bit since high school and are still doing not a whole lot, smoking joints and drinking all in their parent's basement. While they come and go, I've come to find that everyone who is in my life at whatever given moment is in my life for a reason; and the others, well our friendship simply ran its course.
The other night while out with my best friend since I was young and a couple who are both friends of mine, I realized how amazing it is to just have that network of people you love. Over too-strong vodka tonics, hazy lights and surrounded by Affliction wearing cheeseballs, I was having a great time! (Allow me to note that I attempted to climb into the DJ booth only to wipe-out and still not care; lack of embarrassment is the ultimate indicator of awesomeness on the fun scale -- well that or you know, I was too hammered to process what was going on. We'll go with the former.) I was having a great time simply because we were all at this terrible club, listening to terrible music, watching some truly terrible dancing...together. And because of that....well it wasn't terrible at all. Of course all the drinks we had pounded down earlier probably helped, but when it comes down to it, you should be able to have the time of your life with your true friends anywhere: whether it be at some insanely chic club, or in the back of a divey bar.
An emotional network is essentially what your buds are there for, people you can lean on when you need to and who lean on you when they need to. Such a network, based on care, connection and a ridiculous amount of inside jokes is one I'll always understand much more easily than a business network. Call it my downfall or my strength, but matters of the heart are the ones I give the most attention.
As sappy as this post is, I guess I just needed a little outlet to say I freakin' love my close pals in my life...the trouble we get into (lots), the nights we have out (scandalous), the fights we get over (immature) and the times we have (priceless) well, I wouldn't trade them for the entire Fall/Winter 2010 Stella McCartney ready-to-wear collection. So drink up, laugh up, live it up...and get by with a little help from your friends.
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