Teachers who can't teach.

Currently, and by that, I mean as I type this blog post, I am sitting in an Anthropology class taught by the worst professor probably of all time. Aside from the fact that I have decided she is pro Al Qaeda and other terrorist groups she is also incapable of teaching which is her primary source of income. When someone sucks dick at their job I loose respect for them as a person. Like you worked your entire life to get this to this point, you probably went to school to be a teacher, interned, then got paid shit to teach and now you have finally reached your goal and you are a God damn teacher, yet, you are terrible at it. That is just the saddest and most pathetic thing I have ever heard. You are better off not knowing what you want to do with your life, and being some unemployed 30 something year old than doing a job you are so horrendous at.
Her lack of patience for the students in the class is probably why she has a class of 50 something students, yet only one student repeatedly answers all her questions. The reason for my random outburst today about her teaching skills or lack there of, is due to the temper tantrum she just threw in class. Teachers cannot freak out. That job is saved strictly for students.
I feel a little dumb that I would rather vent and do some online shopping instead of learning about the world I live in. Well, at least I have the teacher to blame....But as I sit here doing everything and anything instead of listening to the teacher and taking some good old notes, I cannot help but think, don't we always have someone to blame? Am I using this blame to convince myself I am doing the right thing by not doing what I paid good tuition money to do?
I guess Zara's new spring collection might be the real blame after all.
XO - class ended and I gotta get to work.

Read More

Loving this look!

On this wintery day, there is still a little snow on the floor, yet its sunny out, this is the perfect look!
This look is getting me out of bed this morning, after pressing snooze 25 times.

Read More

Napolean complex at its best.

When your Saturday night starts at 12am, which is basically Sunday, you can already assume you are not going to have as much as fun as you would have had, if you would have gotten your shit together a good three hours earlier. Fact. You'll still have fun, but a different kind of fun.
After being slumped on my couch an entire day, eating endlessly in a large Hanes t-shirt, and watching way too much reality TV, the only way to check I was still sane and capable of looking normal again, was to go out. We headed to The Jane to meet some friends. The Jane is a hard place to sum up. Its not a club but way too happening to be a lounge. The main room looks like a large living room filled with New Yorkers in their 20'-30's dancing on tables and every spot available on the floor. Everyone looks either coked up or way too drunk. Its very swanky, you kind of feel like you walked into a bar in Gatsbys times, yet more modern. The girls and guys are extremely desperate there. You can tell everyone is on the prowl in some way or another. Really makes you appreciate being married when you see these girls making laps around the room, hoping a suitable male will spot them out and let them ride for free on their tab all night. Even if it comes at the expense of them riding other things as well.
After a cigarette, some unattractive doorman on a power trip, decided two of the boys were too drunk to come back in. Ultimate embarrassment and totally not logical, as I have known these men my whole life and I have never seen them more in control and alert. The part of our group that was wasted and out of control,were the ones let back in. Maybe this Napoleon complex door man was jealous of their good looks and sexy wives. I laughed as I typed that, wishful thinking! After a few curse words at every door man there, we rounded up our troops and left with our heads held high. Their loss.
We walked the party over to the Gansevoort, and danced and drank and then danced a drank a little more. Im sorry, but The Gansevoort is the club of yesterday. Its become lame and touristy. At this point, our group was way too drunk to keep up with our surrounding, especially my husband for that matter. And all I wanted was some pizza.
After getting a 1000 calories worth of pizza we rolled our fat asses into bed and dozed off at like 5am. I guess you can call this a typical night in NYC.
- What to do today other then watch TV?

Read More

The Day After..

I am hungover.....The day after an event. An event where everyone you have ever known, presently know, or will know, is there. When going to such a party, its imperative that you look perfect from head to toe but not over the top. You don't want to stand out, yet you want people to be like "She looks amazing" when you walk by. You want the woman at the event to not be worried your outfit is the reason their husband's have wandering eyes or the reason their husbands are the shitty men that they are, yet you want them to be a little intimidated by your look. Its a thin line and should be mastered....
The right outfit makes all the difference between you walking into a room with your head held high, social abilities at its peak or you walking in slumped over and about to kill yourself.
Most people have some sort of social anxiety, alcohol is obvi the cure to that. However, do not show up to an event wasted or the first drink you get at the bar (which we all know is the first place you are headed when you walk in) will send you over the edge and probably turn you into a sloppy drunk. UNACCEPTABLE. I have a friend that continuously makes that mistake, which is probably why she is an out of control drunk. The girl that is going to probably ruin yours and hers image simultaneously and crush her dreams of possibly meeting a suitable mate at any point of the night. My advice: One small drink before you leave the house, so the edge is off, yet not to the point that you are drunk in any way. You should be able to answer any questions with straight sensible answers. Then get wasted as the night goes along. This way as you get more drunk so are all the people around you. If you make a fool out of yourself, chances are they are at the same point, in a sinking fool boat with you.
The day after, which is today, after I drank so much...way more then anticipated. Work seems unattainable, putting on clothes is Mission Impossible that not even Tom Cruise can solve, and food is your end all and be all. Anything someone puts in front me today, I will eat and I probably will not stop. Easy gaining 5 pounds today that I will have to starve off next week.
I make sure to call my besties (hate that word) that day, to discuss, rehash and make fun of every person we can remember seeing and talking to. Assuring each other, even though we are probably lying, that we were 100% normal and did not embarrass ourselves in any shape or form. And then you spend the rest of the day thinking about every thing you said and did, how loudly you were laughing and yelling and mentally convincing yourself you were not social suicide. Ripping apart every move you made and every word you said to someone, thinking how you should or could have said that specific thing or done that particular act. But, at the end of the day, nobody is thinking about you as much as you are thinking about you. So get over yourself, move the fuck on because the other 200+ people are as self absorbed as you are and thinking about the exact same thing in reference to themselves.
Lastly, post 1-2 Instagram photos just to validate to the world that you were indeed there last night and you did indeed have a good time.
Xo- Gotta go get dressed for Friday night dinner/ B-day dinner for my hubby. Time to kick this hangover and drink again. ;)

Read More