Terrible Tact

So I have a confession: I have terrible tact. And it's been this way for as long as I can remember. When I was in elementary school, I once ate one of those individually wrapped Mrs. Fields cookies before dinner. Being an ignorant chubster, I threw the wrapper in the trash and neglected to even wipe the chocolate fully off my face. Obviously my mother approached me, and asked if I happened to eat a cookie before dinner. I said no. A boldface lie.

Momma picked up on it, and told me not to lie. As some may say, be good or be good at it. So I decided to be good. I just wouldn't lie anymore, because I was so bad at it.

It was after this realization that a girl that I did not like asked me if I hated her. Don't lie, right? So I said yes, I did in fact hate her. She proceeded to ask me why, so I named off a few reasons I hated her. Then I thought nothing more of it.

That was, until my mom got called because I told a girl I hated her, which apparently isn't socially acceptable. So my mom naturally asked me why I told a girl I hated her. And I just said, "You told me not to lie!" and still couldn't figure out why this was my fault. On top of me telling the truth, I can't help if someone lobbed it to me. Don't ask someone what they think of you unless you really want to know!

Okay, okay, so these days I understand where I went a little wrong; that there are nice ways to phrase things, and then there are rude ways to phrase things. But I still sometimes find it difficult to answer those tough, direct questions with any amount of tact.

Do you really want to ask me why we are disconnected? Because I'll give it to you straight, despite you probably not wanting the real answer to it. Nudge me a bit more and you'll get an ear full -- which isn't what anyone wants.

The One True Hero of Tonight [guest post]

By Cazey Williams Tonight I visited our friend, Sara (assuming we’re all friends if you’re reading this blog), and she basically ignored me while she worked on an upcoming blog (salacious tidbit: it’s about Ebola). And so, since I’m a millennial, I can’t occupy myself, so I turned to the TV where ABC was playing some Game of Thrones spinoff. Except, wait, it’s a reality show.

Yes, folks . . . that doesn’t make sense, does it?

Consequently, we decided that I should narrate this experience of watching “The Quest,” otherwise known as “Lord of the Rings” on primetime ABC featuring bad actors and LARPers escaped from their mothers’ basements, for Tweets & Mascara’s first ever pop culture blog.

This show might already be better than “The Bachelor,” because their first task in tonight’s episode is to kill a dragon.

“You can hear the dragon breathing and feel the earth shaking,” a woman tells us. No, ma’am, that’s the camera work.

Contestant Lina makes a “stupid mistake.” Quote unquote her. Gosh, the dragon might eat her.

At this point we can’t even see the dragon. There are just a lot of fog machines. Wait, I’m probably supposed to mistake that for smoke.

“I hope everyone is having this problem,” a man tells the camera (presumably after the chaos has subsided), “because if not, I’ll look like a fool.” Because you aren’t freaking out about a CGI dragon or anything. If it’s even CGI. If we even see it.

“I have to remind myself what I’m fighting for,” a burly man vents in his video diary. Like, what are you fighting for, sir? A cash prize? Tickets to Comic Con? Or is it Galleons at Gringotts?

Following the dragon saga (which not sure what happened), we learn that our contestants have to face the Fates who primarily consist of a youthful, but bald woman who stares into the camera and whispers stuff about the quest – you know, the name of the show. Very self-explanatory stuff.

“We just gotta focus on the Fates now,” a woman who looks like Zena lets us know. “We just gotta remember, we locked up the dragon, we’re good now.” So that’s what happened to the dragon.

Apparently everyone wants to be the one true hero. This phrase is repeated at every turn. Someone informs the viewer, “They’re other things that a hero needs to possess to be the one true hero.” But you don’t need 20/20 vision if you’re a Harry Potter fan.

Sara laments, “The amount of times I’ve heard ‘one true hero’ is sorta surreal.” Not as surreal as that dragon.

Then they discuss who has the sun sphere. Gtfo. I go to the bathroom.

When I return, our contestants are going after the, sigh, dragon’s eggs. How is this primetime television again?

"We get to this barren field with these deep pits,” contestant Bonnie describes as the camera lets us see a barren field with deep pits. In these pits are the eggs, which will burn you if you touch them. Thanks for letting us know.

“After getting up to the dragon egg, you can smell it,” Zena’s twin says. Tell me, Zena, what does dragon smell like?

Back at the Fates, someone gets voted out. Excuse me, banished. Or was she Fate’d?

Bye-bye – but wait, she has wisdom for us: “Being a hero doesn’t mean you have to go and save an entire kingdom. You can be a hero in your everyday life.” Or star in your own ABC reality show.

Bonnie will now live action role play as a motivational speaker.

After watching this show for an entire hour (though distracted by a dog that wants a walk and Sara bending over chip dip in front of the TV), I’m still confused.

Here's the key to making it through work today

Cazey texted me a link to this album this morning, and it's been a stellar addition to my work day today. So stellar that I wanted to share it on here, which I usually don't do. I think I speak for both of us when I say it's highly recommended: http://www.mtv.com/artists/vance-joy/#vh1

My only real problem with this album is that I had a chance to see it performed live and I missed out! He was at Firefly it turns out, as was I, but I didn't know about him at that time. Such a moment of FOMO and a total bummer. Here's hoping Vance Joy comes to my town, or any town near me.

Let Cazey and me know what your thoughts are about Vance's new album in the comments. Any chance you'll be buying it? I know Cazey will be buying it and giving it to me as a gift. Well, maybe not that second part of the sentence.

My first guest blog!

Hey guys!

I did my first guest blog post, on the fantastic Young and Twenty blog! Be sure to check it out, stay awhile and read a few more posts:

http://youngandtwenty.com/2014/09/02/what-the-20s-taught-me-guest-blog/

A Type A Dilemma [guest post]

By Cazey Williams, guest blogger I intern remotely for a consulting company and have to log 20 hours/week. The best/worst part about this arrangement is, I set my own hours – which is an overwhelming proposition. While I have flexibility, I also have to commit to when I set those hours, and, like most millennials, I am a commitmentphobe. Every week I email my boss when I’ll be working, and every time I feel like Ariel giving away my voice. What if I want it back?

Why am I telling you this? Because my hours aren’t actually an exact 20 hours/week. They just have to average 20 hours over a month. So at the end of August, I had worked enough overtime that I only needed to work (wait for it) 13.5 hours. *hand raise emoji*

I happen to plan my life down to details like needing to cut my fingernails. (For real, in college, I would put on my daily to-do list “Drink water.”) So this week I happen to know I have too much going on to comfortably fit in my 20 hours. You type B’ers may say, “Well, I have the rest of the month.” But a person who schedules when they’re going to get their daily dose of hydrogen and oxygen cannot be reassured by that thought. No, no, it’s the beginning of the month; I should frontload my schedule, so at the end of September I can relax aka work less than 20 hours. It would not do to work less than 20 hours this week. (Plus, the rest of my September is sorta popping out of its jeans, so I’m already anxious about other weeks.) The point is, I have to work 20 hours this week.

So I told my boss that I would work this past weekend. On Friday I submitted my 14.75 hours for August (even worked a little more than my necessary 13.5 hours) and volunteered to work on Sunday and Monday (today, Labor Day) and then normal hours on Tuesday throughThursday. Why is this important? Because I’m sacrificing my three-day weekend. But I will not be under 20 hours at the end of this week, so I can breathe without a paper bag on Friday when my friend visits. (I’ve never actually done that – used a paper bag, that is.)

Except. Pause. What was yesterday? Yes, Sunday. But what was the date? Yes, exactly. Fucking exactly. August 31.

I DIDN’T NEED TO WORK.

Can we repeat, I didn’t need to work?

And when did I realize this? Well, yesterday, on August 31, I woke up, declined brunch invitations, worked out, declined an invitation to go the river and lay out, and put on my watch (which has the bloody date – mind you, so does my cell phone, which I’ve been looking at since I woke up) and headed to my neighborhood Starbucks. I found the perfect window seat – like, I had sunlight to mimic that tan I turned down – ordered a Trenta (which, this is a future blog post, is a big deal because I only drink coffee two or three times a week) that set me back $4.51 (pumpkin spice in it, baby – because I thought it was September), and I logged onto my work computer. And that, ladies and gents, is when I saw the date.

I knew Friday was August 29. And Saturday was August 30. How did I forget 31 days has August? BUT HOW?

And so now you, the reader, thinks, “Well then, just pack up and go home.” But – but – but there is a big project due to a client on Tuesday, and unless I slaved away on Sunday, August 31, the project wouldn’t be done in time. (And I could have just worked longer hours today on Labor Day, but I felt that would be too much labor on my faux holiday.)

Insert gun emoji. Insert bomb emoji. Insert an emoji that just can’t express all my feelings.

So where did all this leave me? Sitting facing the sunlight through a window, simultaneously drafting this rant while devising a Facebook status that succinctly describes this FML situation and will earn a satisfactory amount of likes, texting my friend if she’s left for the river yet, listening to a girl order an "extra hot" latte on a 90-degree day, and sakjhkdsjhdslkhdglkghdgsd.

Stalemate, baby. Stalemate.

Happy Labor Day.

20 Times I Knew I Must be an Adult

Here's a non-exhaustive list of times the thought, "So this is adulthood," struck me pretty strong. Without further adieu, in no particular order:

1. Scheduling my own doctor's appointment and having to fill out all that obnoxious paperwork.
2. Going pants shopping and purchasing them from the women's section instead of the junior's section.
3. Buying the women's jeans and being excited about how well they fit and how much coverage they provide.
4. Wanting sneakers at Firefly, despite them not going with my outfit. However, I still packed like a kid and went with the cute shoes instead.
5. Having people trust me enough to work from home.
6. Dealing with the bullshit that is car trouble. Times three.
7. Having to request time off to go home (well, now my parent's house I guess) and not just being assigned a time to leave (like college breaks).
8. Needing to recruit a chaperone when I needed my wisdom teeth out, rather than just having my mom around for it.
9. Giving a presentation about my job and being thought of as the "professional opinion." Then doing a good enough job to be asked to do it several times more.
10. Handing out business cards.
11. Being included on a recipe email chain, and actually having something of merit to provide.
12. Taking over the title on my car AND paying my own insurance for it, which is also in my name.
13. Going to my mailbox to receive nothing but bank statements and bills, rather than care packages and holiday themed cards.
14. Laying in bed all night stressing about work.
15. Laying in bed all night and not being able to whine to my mother about it.
16. Things breaking around the house and not being able to just leave it for my dad to fix.
17. Missing holidays, birthdays and other social outings because of work.
18. Spending money on things freely and not feeling terribly ridden with guilt for spending my parent's money frivolously.
19. Filling out my own taxes (albeit with a lot of help from my dad).
20. Having to pack my own lunch everyday.

Were there any times that you were ever overwhelmed by feelings of adulthood? Leave 'em in the comments! :)

My Unfortunate Handle on Pens

You know that moment when you're trying to be a real, functioning adult, and then the end of the pen shoots off, making doing real work seemingly impossible? Well, that's what happened to me this one week. Twice.

Here's a recap (no pen pun intended):

The first pen-spolosion happened when myself and a friend went to our alumni chapter meeting, where we represented our entire school's chapter. So I was sort of shambly to begin with, because my shoe had broken, I had forgotten any sort of paper and could only find a pen in the tray in my car. So the day wasn't starting off the best it could be, and then this happened.

I went to go click my pen to write down the set-up time, and the entire tip of the pen rocketed off, right at the head of an elder man sitting across from me. He took it well, made a joke and the meeting continued.

But without that damn pen tip, I had to write with that dinky little tube from the center of the pen for the rest of the night. My hand writing looked incredibly similar to a four-year-old's.

Then- I kid you not, two days later, I'm in this meeting with some pretty important people from work, and I rocket the end of another pen off right at the pregnant lady.

That time, no one even seemed phased by it. People are starting to expect this shit from me, I guess. I'm not sure if that's a win or a loss.

A VERY exciting announcement

As mentioned a few blog posts ago, I recently re-launched this blog. In an effort to continue the momentum and keep offering ever-exciting incentives to subscribe and keep up with Tweets and Mascara, I've recruited a guest blogger to provide additional content! The guest blogger is none other than my self-named biffy (which for all you n00bs, is my best friend). While he is in a phD program for stats now, we first bonded five years ago over our affinity for writing freshman year of college.

I gave him carte blanche to write about anything he sees fit, so I am equally enthralled as you are to see what issues he tackles. So please stay tuned and be sure to give a warm welcome tomorrow when his first post is published!

What's Your Worst Quality?

So I haven't gotten this interview question since applying to be a camp counselor in high school, but have long since been practicing an answer to this question anyway. How do you answer "What's your worst quality?" in a way that doesn't totally suck? My answer from high school was a total basic bitch answer of "I am a people person and try to make everyone around me happy, even if that means I'm not happy." Not only does that not really apply to my personality, but it's also like the number one bad answer to that question.

Should I ever be put on the spot for this question, I'm wondering if my inability to get my "who" vs. "that" problem under control is applicable? Is being able to readily name one of my biggest grammatical flaws a strong enough answer to this question? Because in my mind, this just means I am in tune with myself, but also shows that I have great grammar skills to know that it's an issue.

I could even elaborate about how I would CTRL + F my work everyday to double check for any "that" "who" issues. I had a post-it note on my computer to remind myself to do it. And now I can almost always get it right on the first try after being called out on it so often, and learning to mercilessly scour my work for it. So there is even a success story at the end of this proposed answer.

I'm starting to this is the only really good answer possible to the "What's your worst quality?" question because it points out a clear flaw (but not a land mine of an answer), but also highlights what I do to combat my problem, which seems to me like a recipe for a good answer.

Recognition of a minor flaw + how you will/have fixed it = success.