An Open Letter to Contestants on the Bachelor

Dear women of the Bachelor, Honey, we can do better. Maybe some third-perspective can help you see how much of a train wreck you've become.

While you have already given up most of your dignity from agreeing to date the same man as 26 other women on national television, try to keep a shred of it by refraining from crying when you get voted out.

But surely the two group dates where we amassed a total of ten minutes of conversation alone has solidified my undying love for you.

No. No, you're not in love. So gather the few shreds of dignity you dropped and walk out with your head up and stop the waterworks. You're embarrassing women everywhere. Be strong and confident, and take a sigh of relief that you're no longer practicing polygamy.

Also, think of the probability when you go in there. The odds aren't fantastic that you'll win in the first place, so don't act like you couldn't have guessed this would happen. One in a twenty seven chance of winning isn't a bet most people would gamble on.

Please also refrain from muttering any semblance of, "I just hate sharing my boyfriend." Dude, you signed up for this. What exactly were you expecting when enrolled in the Bachelor? Also, does a group date or two really constitute him being your boyfriend?

And finally, please stop whining that he's kissing other chicks than you. Do you really want to be the sixth lady he's made out with on a group date? How special do you really think it'll be to him?

Well, on second thought, I take it all back. Keep being total hot messes. The show wouldn't be quite the same without you fretting over every single minute of your current existence.

On Defining Adulthood

During the summer I saw an episode of Kelly and Michael that cited a study saying that 25 is the new 18. Naturally when I googled this to verify I got my facts right, an article with Hannah from Girls pops  up, as she is the prime example of the "struggle" to grow up these days, despite not being representative of any of my experiences growing up. Anyways, you probably don't need to read the article, as I just told you the thesis: that adulthood is now postponed until 25. Moving on, I didn't give much thought to this assertion until today, when I started to wonder exactly what constitutes adulthood. I pay rent on my own apartment, I have a full-time job (with bennies AND a retirement plan), and I have the responsibility of maintaining the life of two plants. More recently, I have signed up for my first credit card, and now my dad just sent me all sorts of paperwork so the car will be under my name. I'm feeling pretty "adult" these days.

On the flip side, my parents still pay for my cell phone bill, I still go to them for advice on every major decision, as well as every minor financial decision. I still call my mom when I'm sick, and I still don't have any idea what I'm going to do for tax season.

So am I an adult?

At what point can I say that I am "on my own?" Is it when I stop looking for advice on things? When every bill I owe is in my own name? The article I have previously referenced cites independence as the catalyst to growing up, but that's ambiguous to me.

I can't see myself ever being truly independent from my parents. They've been pretty helpful in the past. Ya know, like paying for college, raising me with a good set of morals, and bringing me all around the state of Connecticut to play some peewee sports. Just because I am living on my own and making my own money doesn't equate independence to me. I am always going to respect their opinion and value their input on my decisions. I am never going to feel totally independent from them.

So if independence isn't a clear indicator of adulthood, what is? I'd love to say it's when I start paying all my own bills, but it would be fiscally irresponsible of me to volunteer to move off the family cell phone plan when it's so cheap to stay with them! And for that, my parents would probably be proud, as I am making a smart decision to continue to mooch off of them indefinitely. Cheers to partial adulthood!

Sorry for the Spam

Last night, I was pretty excited to try out this new website I had found that marketing itself as a place for people to communicate with others that share their interests on Twitter. In my head, that meant it was a forum for tweet chats, so I signed myself up and then went ahead with selecting industries and topics I was interested in. The next step seemed a little blurry, as I didn't fully understand where exactly the tweet chats were going to occur, but I allowed access to my Twitter account regardless, because that would make sense for them to have so I could tweet to all of the accounts of similar interests, right?

Wrong. So, so, so wrong. And if it hadn't been for my favorite internet troll of a friend, I would never have known what a pile of wrong I had stepped in. Here is what my twitter feed looked like to me yesterday:

And here (apparently) is what my new forum posted on my behalf:

Great. I accidentally signed myself up for a spam followers generator. And you know what's even more saddening: it promoted that I got 882 new followers, and I didn't even get any new followers, nor do I even have 800 followers.

If this all isn't embarrassing enough, what's worse is that I can't even delete them because I CAN'T EVEN SEE THEM. My only course of action, now, has been to delete them out of my access list. So the lesson here is clearly don't give out Twitter access to just anyone, even if they make it sound like a nice place to go and discuss your feelings, because they may be tweeting out creepy spam to all your friends.

Mean Tweets

So one of the best things I've seen lately is Jimmy Kimmel's "Mean Tweets" segment. He has quite a few versions of them, but my favorite is the music version (probably solely because of Lil' Wayne's tweet and his reaction). Anyways, the main premise is celebrities reading mean tweets that people have sent out about them/ to them. It's hilarious how incredibly rude some people are, but also goes to show how detached people are from what they say on social media. Hell, I'm even guilty of it to some extent. And now, in some twist of fate, part of my job is going through what people are saying about my company on social media and try to mediate when I can. One of our primary tactics for fundraising is through commercials, which, to put it gently, really aims to evoke massive amounts of pathos from viewers in order to get them to donate. The spokesperson is a fatherly looking, older gentleman and takes a grunt of the cyber-bullying that our organization faces. I really hope he doesn't have a twitter, because people are not very nice about the poor guy, when all he is trying to do is raise some money for our cause.

From being called a "fat dick" to an "ugly santa claus in the off season," he gets absolutely ridiculed on a regularly basis. I am still fairly new and have not personally met him, but I would assume- as he actually contributes to the cause which he is advocating- that he is not actually a dick. And he actually isn't even THAT fat. I mean does he have  few extra pounds? Sure, but I would not so much to even categorize him as fat. And regardless of if he is, I am not sure why that takes away from his humanitarian effort.

What I wish more than anything is for people to press the pause and think about why they are so passionately rude to people online.  What has any celebrity done to you, or our spokesperson for that matter? What gives you the right to ridicule someone just because there is an open forum for it? Maybe before pressing the send button, consider that the person that you are saying that about might actually read it, and it may even hurt their feelings.

A Paddle ball Christmas Tale

After spending the past few nights playing around with the new paddle ball my mom bought me for Christmas while listening to Hall and Oats, I determined that this paddle ball was superior to every paddle ball of Christmases past. Sidenote: a paddle ball in the stocking is a Christmas classic in my family.

Returning to my revelation, I spent every night playing with it, shocked by how many advances a simple paddle ball could have since my childhood. The thing is premium wood with a hole to hold the ball for easy storage. Truly beautiful craftsmanship.

Then I had another major revelation: I need a life. Not only had I played with this paddle ball EVERY NIGHT before bed, but I have been getting a bit stressed on the nights that I couldn't seem to paddle ball adequately enough. But don't you dare say anything about Hall and Oats: "Rich Girl" is a total classic AND the number one soundtrack to paddle ball to.

Anyways, after realizing that I am being a giddy child over a piece of wood with a ball attached to it, I decided I have come to terms with it because it is tradition (albeit a weird one). I have always been this excited about the Christmas paddle ball, and just because I am old and "mature" and whatnot, doesn't mean I shouldn't get to derive the same pleasure of tradition.

In a year where my life has been in a constant state of change, there is no reason I shouldn't be allowed to partake in a tradition that reminds me of home. Even this holiday, when I couldn't make it to see family, I was still able to retain some semblance of Christmases back home, while simultaneously picking up new traditions (a Skype Christmas with my family, followed by a really wonderful Christmas with a friend and his family).

So here's hoping you got your paddle ball fix this Christmas, or whatever tradition that makes you most happy!

Why Throwback Thursday is the best social trend ever

So, based off of the title of this post, you may be able to infer that I am a huge fan of the #tbt / #throwbackthursday hashtag. Beyond being a relatively easy trend to keep up with, it really brings to life social media. I love looking at baby pictures, so that is the first reason I like throwing it back. Just ask my friend whose house I stayed at and stalked out all his pictures of the baby version of himself. I also find myself to be a pretty stunning baby, so there's that.

Beyond babies, I also am a fan of any reason to stalk myself, and throwback Thursday is the perfect reason to scroll through every picture of myself on Facebook. The weekly dash of nostalgia is a really welcomed distraction in my schedule.

From a professional standpoint, there are two solid reasons that throwback Thursday is a blessing. Firstly, it's a great way to recycle content without anyone being suspicious! It's actually a great self-serving way to get second legs out of material without anyone calling you out on it. Second of all, it gets you involved with a well-known and popular trend. It's a pretty easy way to seem hip without having to try too hard.

From what I've gleaned about my readership, people seem to like my embarrassing stories more than my business ones, so back to me. I take throwback Thursday as a way to show off how cute I was as a baby and how totally awkward I was in my teen years (you are welcome world!). To get in on the action, check me out on Instagram and twitter (@sarawoznicki) for this week's family photo circa 2008.

What's been your best throwback post?

The Top 3 Revelations of the Week

A few years ago, a professor said that everyday you should write down three good things that happened to you. Of course I tried it and only completed two days worth before I forgot about it. So now I've set my sights a little lower, and came up with three pretty cool things that happened to me this week that I didn't even know could happen. 1. Cyber coffee: It's no secret I am a disaster until I get a cup of coffee in the morning, so naturally when I got an email saying that someone sent me $10 to Starbucks, it was the highlight of my morning. Then my day got even better when my ex-professor tweeted me a free cup of coffee. Who even knew you could do that? I didn't until now, but what I do know is that combines my two favorite things: social media and caffeine.

2. I have loved Fall Out Boy since the beginning of time, but have never gotten to see them live until this week! I am always nervous to see bands live in case they suck and then I won't like them anymore, but I wasn't too concerned about that happening in this case, as all my friends said they were good live, but they totally exceeded my expectation. There's something about being surrounded by a huge mass of humanity that all adore the same thing as you that just makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. The feeling I got from seeing the band I loved most in high school is something I can't even explain, or even thought I would feel as strongly about. There's nothing in the world that feels as good as music.

3. I discovered Pinterest analytics, which I didn't know existed until this week, and was able to prove its worth to some new guy that flat out told me social media held no value. By being able to demonstrate the high click through rate to the website not only made me feel like I am actually useful, but also silenced the smug new guy. Boom.

What would you add to your list of 3?

My Recent Failures as a Saleswoman

On a whim awhile back, I became a makeup saleswoman. And I suck at it. I make petty sales to family and friends, but do nothing more to expand my network. And now I don't want to do it anymore. So, what does a twenty-something do when they no longer want something? Sell it on eBay! It was brilliant in the beginning. I was listing quite a few products and moving them at low prices while still making a bit of money. Then I got cocky. I decided people would get more into it at auction and end up paying more from bidding wars, so I dropped the price and opened it up to bidding.

My notions were totally incorrect. I lost money on the first one. But I didn't want to give up that easily, so I tried again. And lost even more money on the second. I was done with trying to auction off my product.

Or apparently not, as one more got sold at an even lower price. Fanfreakingtastic.

I literally am practically paying some lady for taking it off my hands. And on top of that, eBay randomly charged me $6 for listing fees or something ridiculous. It basically took all the money I made from that last sale. I am apparently in the giving mood with how low I charged for some really good products. So now I am really really done auctioning off my product.

But for the record, in the future you can buy something from me at full price on my website: www.marykay.com/sara.woznicki

Throwback Thursday: My First Blog Post

I have found a hidden gem to share. Apparently, my most embarrassing life moments are the ones people like to read about the most (go figure), so I am giving in. (I say this because the most read posts on my blog are My Beef with Headwear, I'm Too Awkward to Network, and Absurd Ways I've (Attempted to) Make Money, which I would consider to be my most embarrassing posts). I stumbled upon my very first blog post ever on accident, which is weird because this has happened before. Let me elaborate. A few months ago, I made a gmail account so I be a part of a google hangout with all of my group mates once when it was snowing. When I created my account, it somehow connected to a Blogger account I had opened in high school. There were not too many posts, but they were all angsty and teenager-ish, so I took them down immediately before anyone might accidentally read them. Crisis averted, or so I thought.

Just this week, I wanted to sign up my old email account to the mailing list to be alerted every time a new blog entry was posted. Sounds narcissistic? It probably is. But the reason I did it was to see how it looks in an email form. Anyways, when I signed up for the list, it already had an account attached to it. YET ANOTHER ANGSTY TEEN BLOG I HAD CREATED BACK IN THE DAY. I'm not sure why I had two very poorly maintained blogs, but I did.

In honor of Throwback Thursday, here is the lone post of my old Wordpress blog in all of its moody glory:

So, I read Spark’s The Last Song last night. Oh. My. God. I bawled like a baby. *SPOILER ALERT* Uhm, heartbreak, but totally saw it coming.  Maybe because I have just gotten off a long stint of poetry, I saw it from the first pages about the leaves turning, falling, and then the puffs of life dying. Or something like that.  Oh and the title is a dead give away. I mean, really?!! Who else would it be referencing other than that father.  Overall, there was only one thing that killed me in this book.

1.  The father dying.  It practically killed me.  I mean, when it was talking about the last time he was ever going to hug his son, and that she realized he would never be there to walk her down the isle at her wedding, who wasn’t crying by this point.  And cancer??? Is it even fair to write about it?  I mean, who can read about cancer and not cry.  Everyone knows how horrible it is, and almost everyone has been directly or indirectly affected by it.  Thats a cheap one, Sparks.  But lets think about this: Kids- having to watch your parent die prematurely, and parents: think about knowing it was the last time for seeing your child.  Maybe thats what did it for me.  The last of everything makes me weirded out.  Little things, like the last time I will be somewhere, the last time living in my dorm, the last time I am eating at a restaurant, all get to me.  I guess finality, the thought of not going back scares me.  But in a somewhat ironic twist, so does the thought of forever.  Eternity, when I picture it, is a swirl of clouds that never ends.  Eternity feels like its going to trap me in a cycle that I will never get out of.  Basically, extremes of ends and the never endings are terrifying. But now back to the book.

My one real complaint is how Sparks wrote this for the movie.  I haven’t seen the movie (yup, your fault Miley), nor do I know much about it, but I feel like the book was written specifically to be made into a movie.  Sparks put subtle hints for making it into a movie.  For example, their first kiss was described as quick and “not like an overdone earth shattering kiss common in movies today” or something along those lines.  Really!? You are going to try to influence the movie that much.  Please, try to make it any more obvious that you want the movie your way.  Just write the book for the books sake and not for a movie.

So lets recap: The book made me cry and wonder why on earth I was even reading something this depressing and the thought of going to the movie makes me want to cringe.  I could barely read the tragedy, but to see it acted out: Yeah, I don’t know that my heart can handle it.  That being said, I can’t say its a bad book in the least.  It made me think.  And I can’t stop thinking about it.  So plus one for you Sparks.  You ripped out my heart.

My Beef with Headwear

Here's my beef with headwear: I wish I could be one of those people that can jazz up an outfit with headwear, but I always end up looking like I am dressing up for Halloween. So I guess it's one of those "it's not you, it's me" kind of things, but I'd still like to take it up with headwear because it's really not fair how stupid it makes me look. The first time I began to realize that headwear wasn't for me (excluding that time I bought a bucket hat for myself in third grade) was a few summers ago. I had been working outside all day in the heat and then went to grab dinner with some friends. My hair looked like a matted wildebeest, so I threw on a cute baseball cap and went on my merry way.

When I arrived to the restaurant, I got out of the car and my friend immediately pulled the hat off my head and THREW IT ON TOP OF A MOVING CAR. He then simply said, "hats aren't your thing and I'm helping you". Then he proceeded to walk into the restaurant without giving a second thought to the fact that he literally just threw away my only hat.

It has taken several years to overcome the scarring from that day, but I have recently tried new headwear. Since I must be honest with myself, I also agree that hats may not be my thing, so instead I have been testing out headbands.

I got two cute headbands from Urban Outfitters, and was pretty stoked to try them out. So, we went to a bar opening and I decided to wear one. The bar sucked, and I was playing with the light up table by myself until some kid came over to talk to me. His opening was, "that headband caught my eye" and I am thinking this conversation won't suck.

Then it takes a turn for the unexpected. He goes, "You look somewhat reminiscent of Axel Rose."

THAT'S THE LINE YOU WANT TO GO WITH?! REALLY!!

Not only did he suggest I look like an old male musician, but a skeezy rocker. Like tell me I look like Elton John. He's got taste. Or even Bruce Springsteen. He's just a badass that can totally rock a headband.

Despite being struck down several times, I intend to keep trying. This isn't over, headwear. I'm coming for you.