Sweet Starbucks Hack

By Cazey Williams I’m a Starbucks aficionado in the most non-basic sense, which means I don’t order mocha chais or – God forbid – PSLs. The only time I get more exciting than a “Trenta iced coffee, light soy, light ice, unsweetened” is when I have a reward drink, and then I might – might – order some sort of frappucino with double espresso shots.

I don’t do this more often because of the two C’s that dictate most of my dietary habits: Cost and calories. However, once upon a time, my friend introduced me to the Tazo (insert trademark symbol) Green Tea Frappucino Blended Crème (apparently that’s the proper name). I had a sore throat at that encounter, which added to my adoration.

That frappucino happens to cost $4.75 if you order a venti (and why wouldn’t you?). If your heart palpitated at that, wait until you hear about the nutrition. It’s so bad that Starbucks is very sorry, but “the nutritional data for this product is not available online.” Thankfully, nutrition sleuths exist online, and they estimate calories for that venti at 420, which primarily comes 88 grams of carbohydrates. Carbs in themselves are not bad – but 86 of those grams are sugar. Yes, sugar. I just got diabetes.

The iced green tea latte is loaded with similar sins.

Therefore, I present to you my sweet Starbucks hack that is both cheaper and healthier. Order a Trenta shaken green iced tea (Teavana with the trademark symbol if you care – and a trenta because I always do) and ask for no water. When you order a shaken iced tea usually, Starbucks already has the tea made, but they then add water. Yup, they water it down. Right? What the heck is that? So when you say “no water,” they give you all tea.

So then the barista asks, “Sweetened or unsweetened?” This is your choice. And I know aspartame comes out of the devil’s pores, but gosh, I love my Sweet’N Low and always ask for just one packet. Of course, this might kill me down the road, but not as fast as the 86g sugar overdose.

Finally, you ask for a splash of soy, which means like a fourth of a cup in generous barista language. If they’re stingy, you need two splashes. (We’re trying not to get charged here.) Starbucks carries vanilla soy milk, and this is what gives the creamy, sweet addition you need to emulate a latte. (Sorry, this isn’t exactly a frappucino, but you can’t have your cake and eat it, too.)

Altogether, $3.28 on my gold card. Ka-ching.

photo

Here I am modeling with this heavenly creature we’ve created. Look at those chapped knuckles. Taylor Swift should cast me in a music video.

Note how the color goes with the yellow foliage. Yeah, I know it’s November; who wants an iced beverage? Well, I hope you burn your tongue on your steamed milk.

Anyway, get to Starbucks fast, and let me know what you think!

Why I Should Stop Using Dating Apps

By Cazey Williams As I've discussed in a pre​vi​ous blog, I am on several dating apps - but I don't do anything on them. Sure, I match with people and have the occasional ​discourse​, but I have no intention of asking anyone out barring extraordinary circumstances like I don't have homework that week. (Maybe over winter break then?)

Since I recognize this in myself, I have told myself to stop matching with people because it gives false hope to the ladies - but then I don't stop because what else do I do while eating lunch out of Tupperware? Yet I never thought it was to my detriment until last weekend.

The scene: Happy hour at a classy museum. My friend invited me along with several of her friends. I meet "Lisa" who's nice and all that, but as unmemorable as her dating profile because I don't recognize her.

A cider in, I ask Lisa what she does. She squints her eyes when she responds: She's in pre-something school, but she wants to be a doctor, a specific kind of doctor - and it hits me, I've had this conversation before. Ten days ago. With the same exact person.

"I think I need a glass of wine," I announce.

In line to order, I check my recent Bagel Meets Coffee chats, and yup, there she is. Hey, Lisa.

FML. FML. FML.

Now acutely aware that Lisa is my failed-to-launch dating app match - and I'm pretty sure she's known it the whole time - I spend the rest of the evening gulping from my wineglass and SnapChatting/texting my best friends. Meanwhile, Lisa talks with my friend about some guy she had just gone on a date with. A phone is passed around with a picture of the guy.

I glance at the screen and pass it like a hot potato. I mean, it really wasn't that awkward. Maybe she didn't realize (oh, but she did). But this was a great example of why I should stop futilely swiping right on people and even engaging in conversation.

Lisa decided to leave before dinner. She waved goodbye to the group. We made no eye contact, but I ad-libbed, "Nice to meet you."

My friend turned to me. "You're flushed."

"Oh, you know . . . the wine."

Friend Your Mom

In college, lots of my professors warned about being cautious about what you post on social media. Despite your best efforts, employers can find anything they want about you online, including your social media pages. So how do you prepare your profile to be seen by people that potentially hold your future in their hands? The easiest way to to do that is friend your mom. If you don't want your mom to see it, you definitely don't want it on Facebook. That picture of you passed out after a long night of partying? Nope, momma won't want to see that. Don't put it on Facebook. That cuss-filled post sub-texting everyone on your feed? Mother won't be happy. Keep it to yourself.

I know when my mom first joined Facebook, I was nervous that she was going to be that mom who blows up the feed with "WHAT A CUTIE," and "WHO IS THAT IN THIS PICTURE," etc. But, it's actually really easy to avoid that. You know how?

You talk to her. I explained to my mom that everyone can see everything you do on Facebook, so comment sparingly. Please try not to "like" every photo in an album, especially if it's not even my album. If you have something disproving /inside joke-ish / mom-ish, please take it up with me in a private manner.

And my mom has been a Facebook gem. She comments on things, and it's always appropriate and probably only once or twice annoying. I say that now, though, and she'll probably read this and go HAM all over my wall just to be silly (hi, mom, still glad we're friends).

Speed Networking Woes

By Cazey Williams In my life outside blogging, I happen to be events chair for my local alumni chapter. That job entails planning football viewings, happy hours and promoting friend making.

So my event idea was to coerce people who regularly attend our meetings to meet people different than the ones they already know and/or came with. I originally called it “speed dating,” but then decided we weren't trying to market to lusty singles, so let’s go with “speed networking” – because that’s what we’re doing. Except not in the professional sense; or at least that wasn't the primary goal. When I wrote up the event blurb, I put, “Emphasis on social.”

Okay, in hindsight, every name for the event was doomed. Social networking conjures notions of Facebooking and tweeting. Speed dating…well, this isn’t for hapless Valentines. And speed networking – please, keep your business cards in your pocket.

To keep the event lite (misspelled on purpose), I made a bingo sheet for an ice breaker. Each square had something related to our alma mater. I printed out a list of questions stolen from websites meant for both speed dating and networking.

The first person to arrive for the event was in a tan suit and had silver hair. Me internally: Crap. Like, I’m wearing moccasins. I almost wore shorts. We shake hands.

“This is my first event in several years,” Mr. Businessman says.

“What brought you out?”

“The speed networking. I love networking. I’ve been in sales for 16 years.”

“Well,” I think fast, “we’re expecting a mixed crowd, so it’s gonna be a little social, a little professional (not at all, I’m in moccasins). Hopefully you’ll get something out of it.”

“Can’t wait to find out.”

Oh, I can.

People trickle in. The assortment is mixed only by contrast: Me and my moccasins, 23 and in grad school, and everyone else years older and employed – or formerly employed. Gosh, I invited you here to make friends, not get you a job. One of my worst self-critiques is underperforming, and I would say a list of questions that includes “Star Wars or Star Trek?” is underperforming for this crowd.

Of course, the pizza comes out late (yes, we’re hosting this at a pizza parlor; why were you expecting business networking?!). Some people mingle. Others wait for me to prompt this networking. Me: I only have it to make it through an hour before I can drink away this humiliation.

I narrate how this will work, mention “we were expecting a mixed crowd, so I prepared for social and professional networking (so I won’t ask ‘If you were an animal in the wild, what would you be?’),” and try to explain the bingo ice breaker – but some of the older men just don’t get it. Forget it; it’s an ice breaker. I need a megaphone. I’m sweating. No one can hear me. No one knows which way to rotate. People are repeating the opposite of what I said.

The first person I network with is Mr. Businessman. He says he’s been to many networking events. In fact, he specifies: “I teach group networking.” Great. Judge this failed spectacle.

“Well, I’d love to hear what advice you have,” I say. Should I be biting into this pizza while listening? Is that professional? Well, darn it, I’m hungry. “Like, what prompts I should use.” (Because I was going to ask “Who was your favorite superhero when you were little – and how does that relate to your profession?”)

Once I collected comment cards at the end, I assessed that the event was not as disastrous as I painted it. In fact, my biggest criticism was not starting on time (sorry, we waited until 7:05 PM; I guess there are no stragglers in the business world). However, I would not have worn moccasins.

The Mirror Replacement: Vitamins

Sometimes what's happening in my head isn't clearly communicated to the rest of the world. And almost all of the time when that's happening, I'm not noticing it until I get nothing but a blank stare back. Yesterday I was scheduled for a hair appointment. I had purchased the cut off groupon, where I get all my haircuts. No really, I buy all my haircuts off groupon. Anyways, I knew I wouldn't have to use my card, so I'd need cash to pay the tip. So in the small window of time between work and my appointment, I knew I needed to run to Bank of America.

But wait, what's right across the street from the ATM? Just the Target I go to at least once a week. And you know what Target sells? Those cheap, not heavy $5 mirrors, which is exactly what I need. I need a cheap, not heavy mirror to replace the one my landlords took back, but after the mirror fall of 2014, a not heavy one is key.

So my new plan, rather than the ATM is to run into Target, get the mirror and get cash back. They do do cash back, right? Fingers crossed.

I quite literally jog into Target, speed walk back to the mirror isle, and grab what appears to be the cheap mirror. Nay, it feels too heavy to be the $5 mirror, but I grab it to scan at the end of the isle just to be safe. I'm not sure what's more embarrassing, me knowing where the self scanners are in the Willow Lawn Target, or the awkward straddling that went on for me to try to get the bar code to scan.

Eventually, I got the mirror to scan, and, alas, I know my Target mirrors and this one was not one of the light $5 mirrors. I quickly put it back and track down a friendly employee.

"Do you have any more of the cheap $5 mirrors anywhere other than the mirror isle?"

"No, we only do that at the beginning of the school year, but I can go look in the back to see if we have any more."

"It's okay, I'm on a time crunch, I'll just get vitamins."

Well, if that wasn't the blankest state I've ever gotten.

And for some reason, it took me a minute to figure out why that replacement item seemed off. In my head, it made sense. Replace the mirror I need with vitamins I also need in order to get the cash back, which is what I really need at this point.

So rather than try to explain it, I just turn and speed walk to the vitamin isle. Sorry to the Target employee that probably went home and told his parents/friends about the weird chick that bought vitamins instead of a mirror. No wait, you're welcome for giving you another glorious customer service story.

My First Run

It's been a few weeks since the great mirror fall of 2014. Since then, the bone has been covered, stitches have been taken out and mederma has become a daily addition to my routine. All is going well, and my workout ban has been lifted. It's been lifted ,plus a few days (just got to make sure that it's fully healed, right?). But finally, I decided to get back into the swing of working out.

Transitioning back to exercise is exciting. The feeling of getting your treadmill legs back. The slow rhythm building, despite all the trauma of the previous weeks.

A slow burn building in the left muscles of the stomach. Breath is getting slower. Staccato.

As the sweat build and muscles tense, only one thought crosses my mind...

It's good to be back.

Even though the run was slower and shorter than usual. The weights are lighter and the reps are lower. But, hell yeah, it's good to be back.

Taylor Swift is a Brat

There, I said it. And I'll say it again -- Taylor Swift is a brat.

As I am sure all fans are aware (and probably even those of you that aren't), Taylor Swift didn't want to her new album, 1989, to be allowed to be streamed on Spotify.

Fine. I get it. You're poor and need more than the fraction of a cent you make every time someone streams any song from the album.

Oh wait, you're actually a millionaire.

But don't get me wrong, I do actually get it. You're an artist and know your worth, but really? Measure your self-worth in ways that are more meaningful than money. Like the unified love of sharing good music with your fans. Or to be the voice behind a message that resonates with people that need someone to articulate their feelings. Make something that will last forever. But don't make make it about how much you make off of it. Isn't it more important to make something of value for people, and give them the opportunity to be forever effected by it?

I also get that she is going to hit platinum the old school way, but think of how she could blow it out of the water with people streaming it. For those real Swifty fans, they'd buy the album anyways without needing to be convinced. But for passive fans like me, I am absolutely not going to go buy an album based off of the sheer fact it's Taylor Swift (especially with a single as obnoxious as "Shake it Off"). However, after hearing a few songs off the album -- which let me mention that I was easily able to stream on a multitude of other websites outside of Spotify -- I am more interested in the album.

However, I never would have come to that conclusion had I not previewed the album. That's one reason for having it on Spotify. But nah, don't worry, you do you Taylor and don't put it on Spotify. (note: despite the sarcastic tone, I actually do respect her for making her own, mature, informed decisions)

Oh but wait, there she goes pulling the plug on literally all of her music on Spotify. And that's why she's a brat. Whether it was her decision or her label's, that's some real petty shit. Okay, save your new release for a few months so you can make all the money off your dedicated fans, and then give your laggard fans the option to hear it without having to buy. I'll accept that, but when you go so far as to pull some really old shit you have up on there just to send a caddy message, I draw the line. You know that having those up there, years later, is not effecting your sales in any way. You're doing this out of spite. That's not just going after Spotify, that's hurting your audience base just as much as it is a blow to Spotify, if not more so. Just childish.

Not only won't I buy the album, I won't support you. Go back to country you little priss and bring the drama with you.

Some People Deserve To Be Emailed

By Cazey Williams Background: I wrote this email several months ago to the fool who succeeded me as president of a student organization at my undergrad. Most of the context should be clear once you read the email (though I’ve omitted identifying information, how gracious of me).

I’m posting this email both for your enjoyment and maybe your empathy. You may not relate to this exact situation, but most of us have endured similar ineptitude and have wanted to let them know how much they suck.

I will add that I sat on this email for two weeks before hitting send – but when I did, I bcc’d all the other people who had also been defecated on by this incompetent, irreverent imbecile. And seven months later, no, I don’t regret sending it.

Subject: Please Explain (burn #1)

Body:

Hi, Insert Name of Stated Incompetent, Irreverent Imbecile,

I'm curious as to what's happened to insert name of student organization. It’s been both frustrating and disappointing to hear about the organization’s struggles this year from afar.

When I joined the organization, it was struggling. However, when I graduated and we left it in your hands, we had set the chapter up for success. The chapter had more money and members than it had had in years. We set up events and traditions for future years. We gave you an actual transition. In fact, the primary goal of my chapter was to set the next year up for success.

It doesn't sound like that happened. From what I hear, this year's chapter has seen the worst leadership ever - if it’s seen any leadership. From what I know, an official meeting time was never set, you never had retreats, communication was lacking, and the president (you) doesn’t even attend some exec meetings.

How does that happen? I'm assuming you became overwhelmed by something, and maybe it was unforeseeable. On the former, why did you run for president? And on the latter, why didn't you step down or ask for help? You were surrounded by resources – other exec members and the student activities office. What did you learn at our school’s leadership conference? What did you bring back from the national conference?

I had worries from the start. I had to pin you down to transition you – at 10:30 PM on a Tuesday night while every other member of our organization was at a joint social.... I had to remind you several times to register for the national conference. You called me four days before the conference and asked how you were getting there. Basically, you threw away $900 that my board worked tirelessly to secure so that you and two others could go to Big City in the South. I really don't know how you got there - but you know what, I was excited you were there! I had hope.

But for nothing apparently.

Please tell me you were busy. I understand being busy. I was president of two organizations last year, financial director for a third, writing an Honors thesis, applying and visiting six grad schools, and trying to pass classes. I made sacrifices. I know it's so hard. So tell me you were busy - and then tell me why you didn’t ask for help.

Maybe you thought someone else would take the reins. But why would other members step in if you couldn’t even prioritize the organization? Why were there no set meeting times? Why did multiple friends ask me, the graduated president, what to do in circumstances because you were MIA? Why am I answering questions for you (ten months after I’ve graduated!): “Have I heard from the chapter?” “Have I heard from Insert Imbecile’s Name?” “What’s happening with the chapter?” “Are they alive?”

I shouldn’t be answering questions like that. Thank gosh I still care about the chapter enough to be concerned and respond. (That makes one of us.) Are there even new members for next year? Have you left them money? Have you planned a transition? Have the forms been submitted to remain a chapter in good standing? Did I not transition you well? Why do I hear tales of exec meetings being canceled once everyone’s already assembled except for you?

Actually, forget all that: Will there even be a chapter next year?

I’m just trying to understand why you ran for president. You don’t run for office (including giving a speech) and then drop the ball; this isn’t Times Square on New Year’s Eve. I’m fully aware you’re on exec for multiple other organizations. I hope you’ve become aware that leadership is not simply holding a title. And also, I hope you’re aware that when you’re president of an organization, that organization takes precedent over all the other ones – even if the other ones are higher in the social hierarchy. The only thing that should precede it - and maybe I’m mistaken and old-fashioned - is schoolwork. (And I’m pretty sure you were only president of one organization, though actively participating in others, thank you, Facebook and Instagram.)

From my alumni perspective, this year’s chapter desecrated all of last year’s work. Desecrated. That’s why I’m writing this email. Not just to vent my frustrations, but to let you understand how letdown the alumni are. And not minimally letdown. No, no, minimal letdown does not result in an email like this.  And you had ways out: Must I repeat it, you could have asked for help from your chapter adviser, your exec members, myself, etc., or you could have stepped down instead of letting the chapter degenerate.

I can’t understand why you ran for office. You had to guess you were going to be overwhelmed when you were running for exec for every other organization you were in (let me know if that’s a false statement) and also going to be a senior applying for grad school, not to mention just doing general senior things (though obviously not attending the Big Event Our Chapter Put on for Seniors – that was an event we put on last year).

To close, I want to make clear I don’t hate you or anything like that. Simply, I am so disappointed and wondering what happened. And I also want to make sure you have taken the time to consider what’s happened, so that next time when you have the urge to run for a position, especially the top one, you remember what happened to the chapter you were president of. I’d love to talk if you want and give suggestions on how the year may be salvaged, but I understand if you’re too busy.

Cazey

Addendum: No, the imbecile never replied.

Things I miss about Connecticut's Fall

As we can probably all agree, autumn is a really awesome time. If we can't remember, here's why fall is so exciting. And while autumn is good in Virginia, my heart still longs for a few really Connecticut-ish fall-isms. Now onto the list, using more real words than the previous sentence (hopefully).

  • Fall breezes. Obviously Connecticut is colder than Richmond, and I miss the crisp fall breezes that the North has, which the South lacks. Sure, I can throw a scarf on now, but my neck will sweat, which is sure wouldn't be doing in Connecticut right now.
  • Lyman Orchards. While this is a really specific one, it was only the mecca of all things fall. Apples, apple cider, pumpkins, hay, hay mazes, ducks, leaves, the whole fall 9-yards.
  • Cold mornings. Okay, so not cold morning, but slightly colder mornings. Not to the point that your feet turn to popsicles when they touch the ground (yeah, mom, calling you out for the freezer our house became in the winter). But I miss that feeling of a bit of cool air on your face when you wake up, making your bed feel just a little bit better than normal.
  • Soccer. Okay, so this one doesn't really count. But when I was in Connecticut, fall was soccer season (well, soccer season was every season, but fall soccer season was the best). It's not that Richmond doesn't have soccer, because clearly it does, but fall always reminds me of my youth and kicking a ball around.
  • Falling leaves. Sure, some are falling here, but not as many as in Connecticut.
  • My family. Fine, they're not specific to autumn, but we're in that stretch where we're gearing up for the holidays, and there really aren't any good times to head up for a few days before then.

Where do you live? What's fall like in your area? Sound off in the comments below :)

Four Things That Happen When You Dress Up Early for Halloween

By Cazey Williams I know readers have been refreshing their email to see what I'll be this Halloween ever since I wrote about my memorable costumes.

So I guess I'll tell you: I'm going to be a skeleton. "A glam skeleton" according to the tutorial.

Yes, those are females, but I think we can agree that skulls are pretty androgynous. I just won't wear the leggings.

All in all, this costume cost me $20 in makeup – which I think is the scariest part. There was a moment in Target when I debated whether to spend an Andrew Jackson for one night’s play or if I should get another car wash.

Anyway, after my purchases, I decided to practice. Here is what I looked like:

Cazey as a Skeleton

This is what followed:

My mom texted: “I don t like . too scary.” And then “u look too thin. Are u eating.”

Don’t you like how I captured her vernacular? So Baby Boomer.

Anyway, I was proud of my handiwork (yes, I did it myself – with the assistance of my roommate, because me: “How do I put on eye shadow?”), so I sent my mom a pic. And my mom, a former Sunday school teacher, responds that I look “too scary.” Sorta what I’m going for? But I should have expected this. In seventh grade, when I read “The Exorcist” and was obsessed with cryptids like Sasquatch (omg, my worst nightmare) and the Mothman, she bought me some religious texts and instructed me to read “happier things.”

On the subject of am I too thin? Well, if you want to toss a few toward my grocery budget. (But thanks for complimenting the drawn on neck bones!)

You meet your upstairs neighbor.

After submerging my pores in chalk and paint, I had to show it off, so I decided to walk to my friend’s. Except as I’m going out the door, I run into my neighbor. I live in a duplex, so our doors are side-by-side. Neighbor moved in two months ago, and I don’t even know his name other than what’s on his mail, and I can’t even remember that.

We’re going out the door at the same time, and then we pause to stare at each other. I wouldn’t have paused except he’s locked to my face, and I’m thinking, “What is he looking at?” Because you remember how you would forget you have face paint on after a carnival in elementary school until you saw yourself in the bathroom mirror? Yeah, I forgot. (Why can’t we forget when we have zits on our face?) And other than my face, it didn’t look like I’m rearing for a party or something. I’m in flipflops and sweats. I’m your Goth neighbor.

Finally, Neighbor says, “You look good.” And we moved away from our doors.

Your grandmother comments on your photo: “How could someone I know and love change so much????”

This is another one of those generational gap things. On my walk to my friend’s, I obviously had to Facebook (and Instagram) my getup. So I’m checking my notifications, and my adoptive grandmother – aka my elderly neighbor from my childhood – has commented on my photo.

How am I supposed to respond to that? Did we need four question marks? Such a millennial move, that excessive punctuation.

And then I’m mulling, Do I comment back and graffiti my Facebook post (which grandma has already graffiti’d, mind you), or do I ignore her? But poor woman, she thinks I’ve sold my soul to Satan. I decide I’ll comment back in six hours after my post has its heyday without adding to the graffiti unnecessarily. (Does anyone else ever have these thoughts? No one?)

Someone asks, “Have you seen my missing black cat?”

Still en route to my friend’s (I know, will I ever make it?), these two women stop me. They don’t even flinch that I’m wearing skull makeup.

“Excuse me, have you seen a black cat? He’s missing.”

Despite being an extrovert, I don’t do well with unexpected communication when brooding how to respond to Facebook comments, so I just gawk at them. Pursed lips, too. Gotta show those painted on teeth.

 

scary clown

They hand me a flyer.

“What’s his name?” I say.

I don’t remember his name, so I won’t make it up for this blog, but they tell me he’s just a year old cat, and I keep staring at them. I’m not a narcissist, but are we not going to address I look like a skeleton? (Or do I not? Does my makeup suck?)

No, let’s talk about your black cat that’s missing five days from Halloween. I can’t imagine where it’s gone. I probably look like the freak who took it. Yes, let me help you find it. (I would expand on this tangent, but I don’t want to appear insensitive. I really do like animals.)

Anyway, it was a weird night.