1. Getting all the meat off the rotisserie chicken.
2. Figuring out how to make coffee with a new machine.
3. Keyboard shortcuts.
4. Using a responsible amount of paper towel.
5. Positioning the car next to the take-out window so you need not half-emerge on foot to retrieve your coffee.
6. Positioning the car next to the gas pump so you can both exit your vehicle with ease and reach your tank with the nozzle.
7. Changing sexual positions with leonine grace.
8. Flossing.
9. Knots.
10. Walking in high heels.
11. Interacting in a dignified way with ex-partners.
12. Knowing who to tip.
13. Having the correct number of bras.
14. Purchasing a strapless bra.
15. Packing for a trip.
16. Hanging pictures.
17. Interacting in a dignified way with people you do not enjoy but occasionally have to spend time with.
18. Oversharing within the boundaries of “charmingly frank” without verging into “mildly unsettling.”
19. Helping someone back up their car with arm gestures.
20. Predicting which fabrics will result in pitted-out shirts.
21. Mailing in rebate coupons.
22. Diligently checking your credit card statements for errors.
23. Having the correct cell phone plan.
24. Comprehending parking signs.
25. Brushing your hair without tearing it.
26. Menstruating.
27. Holding back tears.
28. Letting things go.
29. Not taking things personally.
30. Genuinely enjoying live theater without being riddled with anxiety for the actors.
31. Smiling enthusiastically when your host announces you will be playing a game.
32. Gracefully moving an overly-intense dog’s nose away from your junk while the owner says “oh, [dog’s name]” ineffectually.
32. Doing so without making the dog think you don’t love him.
33. Knowing if songs on the radio you look forward to are good or not.
34. Remembering to wear earrings regularly enough that you don’t have to semi-re-punch the holes every six months.
35. Thinking the correct amount about the inevitability of your own death and the sure deaths of everyone you hold dear, so that you are neither insensible nor callous to the transient beauties and joys of this mortal world, nor incapacitated by that knowledge such that all actions you take are weighted with panic and fear and the anticipation of loss.
36. Tax preparation.
Tags: dreams, failure, humor, know thyself, skills
WELL I hope this was cathartic for you, Nicole, because I’m now having an anxiety attack.
I’ll just hang out at the top of this comment thread with a bulk package of brown paper lunch bags and my toddler’s white noise machine set to make ocean sounds.
I would like to pretend confidence and grace about any of these situations. I knew there was a right way to do…pretty much all of the above… and that it wasn’t my way. But I know THE TOAST will teach me. Right?
“Changing sexual positions with leonine grace.” This is not possible. Why are you lying to me?
I did it once. But now that I know that it is actually a thing that can occasionally happen in real life every failed attempted is a little bit worse.
I would assume it’s possible with a lot of very specific training. Like Ninja Warrior. If I were to ever see it up close I would have so many questions.
Like, maybe lots of tai chi would make this possible.
I took lots and lots of tai chi and it may have helped in my 50s, but now I get cramps in my arthritic hip. For a while, my last lover took my grunting as pleasure.
Yeah. Even people who get paid to have sex on film aren’t that good at it.
RIGHT? I was reading JohnLock fic last night instead of going to bed at a reasonable hour, and the author expected me to believe that even Benedict Cumberbatch’s gangly limbs could flip someone around mid-coitus without, um, un-embedding? Yeah. Sure.
Yeah, how could that possibly work?? Maybe if he carefully tucked his partner into the fetal position first, then slowly rolled them over?
I had that happen to me once (although sadly not with Bulbasaur Gingerthatch) and I was astounded that the maneouvre had been carried out successfully. Normally it involves a lot of “Wait – no – ugh get off me.”
Link? Please??
😀 http://archiveofourown.org/works/335385
But the best, smuttiest, most lovely JohnLock fic I’ve read in a long time is http://archiveofourown.org/works/477669?view_full…
I’ve found the key is having an absurdly strong partner, preferably still in college, who desires more than anything that your loins should not part from his for even a scant fraction of a second. I have no idea what people do when they get older, because I haven’t had a graceful transition since.
+1 for your fantastic use of the subjunctive
soooooooooooo, anyone else get anxious to the point of physical illness reading this list? OR IS IT ONLY ME? WHY IS IT ALWAYS ONLY ME? NO ONE ELSE SPILLS ANYTHING OR DROPS ANYTHING, ONLY ME.
🙁
🙁
:'(
:'(
:”(
:””””””(
Last night I somehow managed to knock a container of hard candies out of a cabinet so that (in spite of catching the container) the lid flew off and all of the candies rained down onto a) the counter, b) the floor, and c) into an uncovered stick of butter which was sitting out on the counter in anticipation of making toast. There were six or seven candies embedded in the butter which I had to extract and scrape off, and then try to vaguely mold the butter back into a rectangular shape.
When my dad looked over he just said: “When you make a mess, you really make a mess” to which I just giggled/moaned at my pathetic-ness
oh my god.
plus I bet that by scraping the candies out of the butter, you got butter under your fingernails which you THEN had to wash out, and you were thinking “waaaaaaaaaarrrrrrgh why does no one else ever have butter under their fingernails? WHY ONLY ME! WHY, GOD?”
yesterday I dropped a brand new iced coffee all over the floor of the breakroom. I used a million paper towels to clean it up, but on the walk from the spillzone to the trash can, I dropped the wet paper towels and thus spread the mess all over the breakroom, plus got floor-coffee drip all over my pants. which, goisgfeajewi3u4eq, RRG.
god. the entire world is TERRIBLE.
I’m so sorry! I hope the coffee came out of your pants. Everything is indeed terrible.
One other story, and then I’ll stop (because it was truly majestic to watch… if you were not the one involved): One time when I was hanging out with a friend drinking wine and catching up, I made some sort of overly enthusiastic gesture during the story I was telling and hit my wine glass. I managed to do a slow motion NOOOO and grab the wine glass before it fell all the way over, which made me feel triumphant for a fractional part of a second. The only problem was that the wine was in a balloon-type glass, and while the wine glass had stopped moving, the wine had not. It followed the curve of the glass and arced up out of the glass and in a perfect beautiful parabolic curve, back and all over the front of me. (And it was red wine too.)
that is chick-flick-worthy.
My Beloved has appointed himself Official Rose Reminder for spill prevention. All he does is interrupt me gently when ordering wine or food, when appropriate, with “You are wearing a white blouse, Rose.” I usually change my order to avoid the tomato sauce or red wine I was about to order. If I stick with my original order, he is gracious. I think it relieves him of anxiety while waiting for the inevitable spill.
I once donkey-kicked a glass of red wine off a coffee table. To this day, if someone spills or breaks a glass of wine in my vicinity, the heads of every person in the room swivel, as one, towards me.
I am here to say that I get butter under my fingernails all the time, but especially this week (baking for a wedding, I have used UMPTEEN AMOUNTS of butter, it is all under my nails, you are not alone)
I seem to always have pizza sauce under my nails. Even when I haven’t been eating pizza.
You are not alone. In middle age I have concluded that if I were ever going to learn to avoid making messes, it would have happened by now. So I give up. I buy, and wear, dark pants exclusively.
I managed to spill red wine on the back of my favorite Women’s Studies professor (who was also my major and thesis adviser) while giving her a hug at her retirement party. She was exceedingly graceful and gracious about it. I was a mildly drunken and very embarrassed mess with absolutely no idea what to do in that kind of social situation because when you spill alcohol on other drunk people generally it is a party foul but a forgivable one because EVERYONE is a mess, but that is not the case at a dignified retirement party with your favorite favorite most smartest and best wonderful intelligent fashionable post-modernist professor.
Luckily my roommate was a real adult and coached me through it (email apology, offer to dry clean! for those not in the know yet) (also I hope you never have to be in the know about proper spillage-on-important-personage, it doesn’t lend itself well to overcoming severe social anxiety. Or looking cultured in front of other very cultured people. Gaaahhh).
At that point, you just throw away the candies.
Throw away the butter; not worth it either.
Throw away the kitchen.
Take a good long look at your dad and think about it.
My brother once watched me wrangling myself, my purse, and a coffee cup into a car and observed “you might be the least graceful person I’ve ever known”. THANKS BRO
This is my mother, all of the time. But even more terrifying is that when I am in a car with someone else, I become my mother and take like fifteen minutes to unentangle all of the things I own from my seatbelt while falling out of the car head first. Like there is some sort of conservation of social entropy law, and I have to make up the difference in her absence.
I become my mother.
We all do. Don’t fight it. Embrace it.
Ah, if you think no one else spills or drops anyhting then you should watch me eat a burrito. I put the carne in to carnage. 🙁
“why is there refried bean in my shoe? WHY IS THERE CARNITAS ON MY FOREHEAD? I had Chipotle yesterday, I DON’T UNDERSTAND”
It’s confirmation bias. I have always had reputation of being clumsy with drinks/food among certain friends and can finally say that I am 85-85% sure that I spill shit exactly as much as everyone else does.
I always drop things. I’m sure that all of the downstairs neighbors I’ve ever had hate me with a vengeance.
If I had time I’d tell y’all the story of how I spilled a glass of red wine all over a friend’s yellow couch (and curtains!) (and a little on the rug, too) (we eventually got it all out thanks to carefully blotting and WineAway! but it was touch and go for a while). Or the time I almost dropped a gin and tonic in a bar, and then managed to catch it just in time but in so doing basically THREW the contents of the (full) glass all over my boyfriend, who had just arrived at the bar. Or that other time I incorrectly removed a blender pitcher full of margarita from its base (apparently it was a new blender and you just lifted up the jug rather than twisting it off?) and unleashed a flood of frozen marg all over the counter. Or that other other time I managed to pull down an entire shelf full of dishes onto the granite countertop, broken dishes everywhere, including – and this pains me – into a bowl full of duck fat we were going to use to fry potatoes. (In my defense, that shelf was WAY over-filled, and really I did my brother and his wife a favor by forcing them to cull some serving dishes.)
Aaaah blenders! My blended soup experiments end in boiling explosions a good 30% of the time. You’d think I’d learn.
Stick blender! I never use a normal one anymore for soups and similar.
I recently executed a spectacular series of events that resulted in hoisin sauce and garlic splattering across my entire kitchen and me. I know for a fact it’s still hanging out in various crevices I couldn’t clean. I also once committed the archetypical dumb clumsy person move of turning around with a ladder held horizontally under my arm and knocking a fragile sculpture right off a table.
I worked in a large-ish art museum in a large-ish metro area once and, while mounting an exhibition, narrowly missed knocking a $150K arts and crafts lamp off its display. Scary times.
Last night at work, I managed to drop a glass bottle full of apple-scented air freshener, one of those things you plug into a wall. It shattered quite handily (even though it was maybe an inch from the floor when it fell? Bastard glass) and from then on, my pants smelled like a cheap bottle of shampoo. Even my coworkers could smell them from feet away. You are not alone! It was like a combination of breaking things and spilling things!
(And that was the second one I’d broken too.)
“30. Genuinely enjoying live theater without being riddled with anxiety for the actors.”
Well, yes, I guess I AM probably better at that than other people, given that it has never even once occurred to me to be anxious for them. Their talents so far surpass my own that I look on them as gods among us, with awe and admiration and I never even thought that anything bad could possibly happen.
But I guess that’s over now. Drat.
I develop a terrified fake smile every time I’m at a historical site and re-enactors appear. They give me such anxiety. I would prefer those creepy mannequins that clearly come alive at night.
I went to an immersive theatre experience where the whole audience had to wear masks. It was AMAZING. I never knew how much of a rictus smile I do at these things until I realised my face felt way more relaxed and happy than it normally would at such a thing.
Actualol @ mannequins by the way.
Oh no, I’ll take the awkwardness with the historical re-enactors. At least you’re reasonably sure they aren’t sadistic murderers (unlike the mannequins, which clearly just want to wreak violence on unsuspecting innocents).
(Can you tell I really despise those mannequins?)
I, however, get sooo flustered FOR the actors, and turn a hideous tomato-red, and mentally wail, “Self, you are NOT THE ONE UP THERE.”
This doesn’t bother me either (I act, and don’t get stage fright at all) BUT I get it so, so badly for stand up comedians. I want to die the second they make a joke that doesn’t go well. The second hand embarrasment just consumes me.
This is why I cannot go to comedy shows.
Yup. I can’t deal with it. Once I just ended up fake laughing like a hyena for this poor woman’s entire set. Sorry, lady.
I do the equivalent at burlesque shows. I do not really want to see boob that bad. I just do not want them to feel like nobody wants to see their boobs.
Second hand embarrassment is the worst. With me it’s mostly in books, not so much in movies or plays. If I’m reading a book and a character is doing something intensely stupid/embarrassing, I have to look away for a few minutes, or if really bad actually put the book down until I’m ready to face it.
Live theater, watching someone sing the Star Spangled Banner, and the “Getting to Know the Contestants” portion of Jeopardy are so awkward and anxious for me that I can’t sit still.
I feel all the feels for performers. I cringe for them and blush for them. But I cannot generate sympathy for Banner singers. If they’re an actual musician, not just a singer, they know it is one of the most unsingable tunes ever. And they know that any performance with enough network coverage to make it noticeable to me requires a session or two with their favorite voice coach. Don’t have a voice coach? Get off the stage. What were they thinking?
One time at the ballet I saw a dancer come thisclose to messing up his landing after a jump. If he hadn’t caught himself he would likely have fallen flat on his face. It took most of the rest of the show for my heart rate to go back down to normal levels.
I had no idea people felt this way! I studied theatre in college (excellent life choice) (just kidding) so I never feel anxious because I’m like “I know how much they’ve prepared – they got this!” It actually makes it more enjoyable because knowing how much work goes into it makes it double-impressive.
Yeah, I was a theater kid too. When I watch shows I’m always really, really happy for all those actors up there doing their thing.
Holding back tears.
I knew it. [sobbing]
I will freely admit the only reason I don’t have to re-punch my earring holes is because I have a weird complex about going out in public without earrings. I feel like I look naked or unfinished with only a second set of studs. Or unbalanced. It is Weird. So weird. But every time I feel my naked earlobes I feel everyone is looking at me, That Un-Accessorized Poor Child.
Yep, totally relating. Jeezus, just two days ago I started crying when thanking a horsemanship clinician; I embarrassed him and myself. Dammit, just thinking about it makes me teary.
Sigh.
True. I just feel weird without them. Like my head is too light and everyone is staring at my empty ear holes. I’ll forget rings and bracelets and occasionally a watch, but never earrings.
I may or may not have worn the same zirconium stud in my right ear for a solid year.
I got a pair of teeny diamond studs for my high school graduation. I put them in my second holes and haven’t looked back. That was….many years ago, let’s say. (Occasionally I do take them out to clean them, get horrified at myself, and promise to do it more often before letting another several months elapse.)
Do they need cleaning? I wear hoops that I never remove and now I’m starting to rethink that strategy.
Mine reeeeaaaally do, but I might have unnaturally gunky ears? They tend to develop a buildup that I’m assuming is a combination of dead skin + shampoo/conditioner buildup, so every few months I need to swish them around in some hydrogen peroxide to get the gunk out of the part beneath the stone and everything. Hoops might not have as many nooks and crannies.
Now that you mention it, I remember that I also had gunk problems when I wore studs.
…and I just removed one of the hoops and yes, it has managed to collect some gunk. They will receive some cleaning tonight.
Yeah when I got my ears pierced they told me that hoops are better than studs — studs get way more gunk trapped between the parts, but hoops can just twirl around and get more, I dunno, air flow or whatever.
I have an elderly aunt who proclaims one is not properly dressed without earrings and perfume. Aravis, she wears tee shirts 2 sizes too big with cargo shorts, tube socks, and ugly old lady shoes. She always looks so sloppy. I’m not judging her, though. I can come close to that level of insouciance. But she *always* wears earrings (matching) and perfume. I think it’s hilarious.
I’m late to this thread, but here’s my method of holding back tears – I think about something that makes me really mad, and tell myself what a BAMF I am. Then I dare myself to cry. It’s like I can feel the tears actually receding – magic.
(My face gets all red, but that’s a different challenge.)
I’ll have you know I’m very good at hanging pictures. I just don’t get around to it very often.
The rest of these though. Well. At least someone else is good at them.
:repunches all eight earring-holes:
I can do some of these things! I count 14 that I’m at one with.
*fistbump*
I’m pretty good at most of these, too, and the ones I’m not good at? Fuck those things.
Yeah, bollocks to learning to walk in high heels or being polite to people I don’t want to. I can direct a 7.5 tonne lorry backing into a parking space though.
BULLSHIT. I am the BEST at getting all the meat off a chicken carcass. That thing is like locusts attacked it after I’m done with it.
I usually pretend I am a leopard.
I like to pretend to be a Viking. Not exclusive to chicken-bone-munching; just in general.
I used to pretend to be the terminator whenever I got on the treadmill at the gym. That creepy run is hard.
I pretend that I’m working out at the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters. I don’t pretend that I have any special powers or am an X-Man, I guess I just pretend that they think I’m cool and therefore I get to use their gym.
I was in love with this idea until I thought about, like, asking colossus to re-rack his weights. Those are giant triangular tons, dude. I cannot move them.
Same with leopard-ness. Although when I’m in a particular type of bad mood, I pretend to be a small child pretending to be a T-Rex, which is VERY cathartic.
Please don’t license this, although I’m asking you permission to use it, as, *awesome.*
Of course! It helps if you stomp in big shoes, and have people and/or cats to roar at.
Omg. I have been sitting at my computer for the last hour staring blankly at the empty page in front of me, feeling worse and worse and weaker and weaker, wondering how I am going to snap out of it. Thank you thank you. *stomps off, roars at cat*
You are so welcome. The T-Rex-toddler stomp has great power.
I choose to read this as usually, full stop. Not usually when eating chicken.
That is a legit interpretation.
Yeah, I am also pretty good at this.
I’m maybe a little TOO into skeletonizing cooked animal carcasses. I’m also pretty good with keyboard shortcuts too (but I’m a disaster with nearly everything else on this list).
You can never be too into demolishing an animal carcass. Be proud, friend.
Once I was at a friend’s house for Thanksgiving, and my favorite leftovers recipe (basically turkey scraps soaked in gravy, then piled on a pile of biscuits and french fries) requires stripping the turkey after the main meal. This turned out to be everyone’s post-dinner entertainment… just watching me totally dismantle the giant 15-lb carcass. People were standing around the kitchen island, drinking wine and staring, and I have seldom felt so proud.
Oh man that reminds me once after a Thanksgiving meal my friend and I sat and picked the turkey while drinking wine and watching old Nickelodeon shows on YouTube. It was the BEST. Yours sounds pretty great too.
My husband is too squeamish to watch. Then again, he can touch bugs.
All my sympathy to your husband. I’m almost too squeamish to dismantle a carcass. Have successfully avoided ever doing so, so far. However, I confidently handle reptiles, arachnids, and insects. Picked up a live rattlesnake once. (Had to: horses, narrow trail bordered by cliff and mountain.)
Seriously. I grew up with a grandmother who’d lived through the depression. I can clean a chicken carcass like nobody’s business. Not to mention the knowledge of how to make good stock with the bones that remain.
SAME! Really took the sting out of everything else.
I never have to worry about getting every scrap of meat off the bones (although I will destroy that bastard with my bare hands), because I make stock afterwards.
How do you all braid your own hair?
Awkwardly and un-symmetrically, and my arms get tired halfway down.
Oh yeah, I definitely have to take a break where I rest each arm in turn while the other holds the half-finished braid.
YES my arms get so tired. I was not made for this.
Poorly.
Practice! It did take me years before I could do it without the braid turning 90 degrees at the point where I move from doing it behind my head to doing it over my shoulder, but having had long hair all my life I got used to it fairly fast. Doing horses’ tails helps too, you get used to doing it and then it’s just mirror imaging it to do it behind your own head.
In pigtails!
Have a childhood hatred of bangs, too much time on your hands, and seven years of Internet tutorials.
I learned how to French braid by practicing on a Barbie doll (or similar) first, then some unsuspecting victim’s (er, friend’s) hair, then gradually my own. This took years. Now I can do it really quickly if I need to, but my hair is shorter now and only makes a wee stubby braid.
hahahahaha
The only braid I can do is the dutch braid-crown thing, which someone once told me was more stylish if it was messy and half falling out.
I spent all of middle and high school with self-braided hair, which was a look that guys love (they did not) and definitely didn’t come out of having too much time bored by myself with nothing to entertain me but my hair (it did).
It helps to have bone-straight hair that slides right into whatever braid shape you try. Then again, while that makes it easier to braid it also makes it pop right out of the braid almost immediately after.
My girlfriend has that kind of hair. I find this very disappointing, as a I feel that one of the perks of a lesbian relationship should be getting to do fancy hairstyles on each other.
I had a roommate in college who liked to fall asleep on me while I was watching shows. I practiced braiding her hair and eventually I got good enough at it that I could transfer it to my own head (as long as I have enough time for at least one do-over).
This is what second grade was mostly for, in my dim memory… braiding my own but also we braided each other’s heads all the time.
I don’t. I don’t understand how other people do it. (My arms hurt and I can’t see what I’m doing and the strands refuse to separate properly.) My sister manages, though, so maybe it’s not actually impossible.
Fueled by the sweet, sweet joy of second day hair.
For me it’s usually third or fourth day (yes, I know, I’m gross). My braiding game is pretty on point, and coworkers always ask me how I get my hair to look like that, and I just gloss over the fact that my hair is so dirty it’s a little sticky and that’s why my braids hold so well.
By saving my extra cash until I can pay someone else to do it.
Flawlessly (https://twitter.com/Blushingflwr/status/465936103489286144/photo/1)
(Practice, not having anyone else to do it for me/practice on, and having hair that is of a thickness and texture well-suited to braids)
I was indoctrinated into the Braid Your Own Hair club by my mother as soon as she realized my hand-eye coordination situation was solid. I have in the past been accused of witchcraft when I do it in public.
The only one I’ve got in the bag is the earring thing (and the chicken is n/a). But how do they rest of you do the other things? Are you magic? Is that how you can fit a week of clothing in a backpack and still have room for perfect souvenirs? Do you “just know” how to use a microwave you’ve never used before? Is that just me? Where is the goddamn start cooking button?!
The secret to travelling light is to wear one pair of jeans the entire time, and to rob hotels blind.
If it helps, clothing somehow takes up less space in luggage if you roll it instead of folding it. It’s still magic, but it’s magic that anyone can perform.
Oh and I just learned the best thing! https://huckberry.com/journal/posts/how-to-skivvy… You roll your shirt and undies and socks up to a compact little pill.
This is my new favourite thing.
Why are microwaves so wildly non-standardized? My mother-in-law’s has a little dial that you have to turn to “MICROWAVE” before it’ll respond to you, as if it has any other feature.
I have a matching stove and over-the-stove-mounted-microwave from the same manufacturer, that were sold together, and the timer function is different on each of them. On the microwave you have to press timer, enter the time, and then press timer again to start it, whereas the stove you press timer, enter the time, and then press start.
Every time you travel, wear post earrings and maybe one ring. Scarves and hats if seasonal. Sturdy boots that you can walk in or look presentable in. Dark jeans that can go three days without a wash. Shirts that aren’t obvious about bra straps. Two bras per week (regular and sports). Only as much makeup as you can fit in those bullshit clutch things. Then you lay everything out on your bed and take twice the socks and underpants, half of the regular clothes, and enough period supplies to get through a full cycle.
This is solid advice. I would add that you should bring no more than two pairs of shoes (casual and dressy) and that you should wear the bulkier pair for traveling. Bonus points if everything can be worn with everything else for mix and match.
Earlier this year I felt like a poor packer for bringing two pairs of shoes on a two-and-a-half-day trip to a conference. But then my feet got super tired from the first day, so tired I could hardly face leaving the hotel again to get dinner, and when I changed shoes it was better! So then I was vindicated.
The problem with shoes is that the number of pairs you need doesn’t always correlate well with the length of the trip. Especially with a conference trip where one of the pairs might be businesslike and uncomfortable. Your Good Packer status definitely holds.
My worst shoe-related packing story: I bought some cute riding boots on sale at REI the day before my husband and I went to France for a week in late autumn. I packed only said boots and one crappy pair of ballet flats. TURNS OUT, the riding boots were agonizingly uncomfortable – they didn’t quite fit right around my large-ish calves, and so the leather at the ankles folded inward and dug into tender tendon-y ankle flesh and oh god, there were bruises. And it was quite cold in France, so I alternated between The Little Mermaid-style “every step feels like daggers” and freezing my feet off in my shitty flats.
I actually returned the boots to REI after the trip. It’s well within their return policy guidelines but I’m super not-proud of it.
Oh hi, I totally did the same thing, only instead of France it was New York City and instead of REI it was Zappos. I called them to complain about the boots, and not only did they take them back, they upgraded me to VIP status. I’m not necessarily proud…but I didn’t say, “Oh, you shouldn’t have!” either.
One of my favourite stories about my grandma is the time she came to stay with us for four nights, and brought six pairs of shoes. “Grandma, why do you have six pairs of shoes?” I said. She counted them off, “One pair to wear all the time, one pair in case we do lots of walking, one pair for gardening, one pair to wear in the house, one pair to be smart in and one pair to be smart in if I wear navy.”
(Plus slippers.)
“dark jeans that can go three days without a wash”
Apparently I’m doing jeans wrong, because even my light jeans go at *least* a week between washes.
Further confirmation that I’m actually super gross, I guess?
No no, me too. Also, two bras a WEEK?? Hahaha!
I only wash jeans if I spill sometihng on them…
Any jeans can go that long, but if you spill something on a dark pair it won’t show as much. Also, darker jeans look more put-together and automatically make you seem classier.
How many bras do people own?! I only have 3 (non-sports-bras). Am I gross? (Probably. Will I buy more? Probably not, even if my size was carried on this continent.)
My family has had the same ancient microwave my entire life. You put in numbers for the time, then hit start. It was beautiful.
My sister informed me that the microwave has just died and been replaced. I know this is going to exponentially increase my sense of vaguely literary discontent whenever I visit my childhood home and things are Not The Same.
Stuff all of your running clothes into your running shoes.
(This only applies if you, like me, do not vacation without running daily, and if you, like me, have large feet.)
This does not apply to me at all but I appreciate the simple genius of it. Also, A+ username.
The microwave at my new place has an amazing feature that should be on all microwaves. When you push 2, it microwaves for 2 minutes. When you push 3, it microwaves for 3 minutes. Etc. It does not require further input like “Start” or “Time Cook.” It just gets down to business. WHY IS THIS NOT STANDARD.
Ours has that feature too and I hate it because whenever I want to microwave something for 30 seconds, I start by pressing the 3 and then it just starts a 3 minute cycle and I’m like WHAT NO STOP and frantically pressing buttons and it’s way too stressful.
I have a travel uniform. Clothes I always pack. No thought required. They have been chosen for wrinkle resistance, stain hiding, quick drying for hotel-sink washing, and flexibility with dressing up or down with jewelry for any occasion (business, casual, formal). I pack the same shoes for every trip. I pack a concentrated soap/shampoo (Dr Bronner’s). I have a travel kit that is always packed with shampoo, toothpaste, hair gel, etc. I replenish immediately upon returning home so it’s ready for the next trip. I can be ready to travel in 30 minutes. Unless I have to look for my passport. That takes longer.
I actively like and seek out overpacking. My dream* is to have a set of matching luggage with useless tiny pieces that you use to keep brooches and hankies in. I’m reclaiming high maintenance. (*shut up it’s a great dream).
I like you
This is the story of my life, except I’m adding a few more lines to myself about sweating and blushing, especially during job interviews.
I blush so often that I think that a red face is my default, tbh.
Everyone else is a lot better at not sweating all the time everywhere. Weird armpit stains on clothing is my destiny, it seems.
I am convinced I haven’t gotten multiple jobs bec I sweat so hard during job interviews (and like 80% of the rest of the time). Then I have the internal debate: is it better for me to wipe these sweat droplets off of my face and look like a person who can’t stop fidgeting or should we just both pretend to ignore those gentle drops on the conference room table? SIGH.
I’m considering wearing extra-thick pancake stage makeup to my next interview to keep this from happening. And dark clothing. “Why are you dressed like a mime?” “I don’t know.”
When I left my last job interview and saw myself in a mirror, I discovered that my neck and chest were bright red. It was alarming. (This was for my current job, so it didn’t end up ruining things, but it was still disconcerting.)
1. Getting all the meat off the rotisserie chicken.
In this particular, I’ll admit I am better than you.
::uses fingers to really dig in there::
::absent-mindedly puts some chicken bits in mouth and drops others on the cat’s plate::
::puts bones, gristle, and any remaining fibers in the stock pot because that’s not real meat::
::lives alone::
I always end up singing that one part of The Inquisition song from History of the World. “I was going through the pickings…” Bonus ball busting later in the verse, too!
The answer to #6 is to buy a German car with the gas tank on the passenger side. I have a VW.
I can’t help with any of the other ones.
The other answer to #6 is to live in New Jersey where it is illegal to pump your own gas. (And Oregon, so I’ve been told, but I’ve never been there so I can’t confirm.)
I’ve been to Oregon and it is true, you legally can’t pump your own gas.
My Chevy has the tank on the passenger side, too! Except…I always forget and park on the wrong side, and then I have to move.
There’s a trick to that! On your dashboard, there’s a little arrow by your gas light that points to the side your gas tank is on. I am a fellow Chevy driver and once that was pointed out to me I was FLOORED.
That is… on all cars? Is this not common knowledge?? I check it every time I drive into the gas station.
Apparently not! I saw it in a blog post years ago and the amount of people I pass that information on to is staggering sometimes.
Kudos to my dad then, who taught me this immediately after teaching me which pedal was which! #godads
Mine doesn’t have one. I had a little note on the dashboard until someone told me (recently) that the hose on the little gas icon is on the same side as the tank.
Not common knowledge among those of us who were driving before it became standard. I had to be shown. It’s wonderful.
And I have noticed in the past ten years or so that today’s auto makers are alternating which side the fuel tank is on. I think cars sold in the US may have to comply with some system that requires auto makers to cooperate to achieve near parity between driver and passenger side for refueling. Anyone have better info than my idle observations?
Going outside in summer without turning into a hot, sticky mess with suncream in their eyes and eyeliner half-way down their face.
(who ARE these women I see, swanning around in midsumemr looking cool and put-together and like it’s just pleasantly warm today? Who are they, and how can I steal their secrets?)
“who ARE these women I see, swanning around in midsumemr looking cool and put-together and like it’s just pleasantly warm today?”
Cylons.
My great-grandmother, full of Southern gentility, once corrected my mother, who was complaining about dripping sweat because of the heat. “Ladies perspire.” My mother, full of sass and (presumably) humidity-induced stickiness, replied, “Ladies might, Nana, but I SWEAT.”
Needless to say, it’s genetic. I hate summer.
“In the first place, I do not sweat, I perspire. In the second place, I never perspire.” — Dr. Charles Emerson Winchester III.
My sister and I are prodigious sweat producers. Growing up in Phoenix was … um … smelly. We shared a room. Ewww. She says we “glisten”. Then guffaws.
OMG-YES! I freaking use water resistant make up and carry a travel sized atomizer but still end up looking like hell.
I can do that! The trick is to be Canadian so my body does not understand hot weather or how to sweat effectively. I’m hugely uncomfortable but my face doesn’t get sweaty.
For me, 17 and 31 form a Venn diagram where the overlap is IN-LAWS. I fear that I will never master either of these.
But you only ever need four bra-type things in your life: one sports bra, one regular bra, one fancy bra, and maybe a binder. Buy five at a time and introduce them as the old ones fall apart. This gives you a good half-decade before you need to worry about the Holy Grail Bra being discontinued (it always is).
A black bra for under thin black things, a skin-ish bra for under pale things, a bra with fancy straps for when straps show, a mighty boost bra for showing off, a large soft bra for period times, the bra that goes with those fancy knickers for matching… ideally bras would multitask, but capitalism.
The Regular Bra shall be nude. The Fancy Bra is, ideally, a lacy black push-up. Everyone I know just wears old stretched-out bras on their periods. Fancy straps, matching undergarments, and strapless bras never work unless you have the body and attitude of a RuPaul finalist.
I bow to your bra wisdom.
And a racerback bra for racerback/tank style shirts, and a cute bralette for under shirts with open backs or sides, and a halter-style bra for halter tops… do I have too many different styles of shirts?
I have like 6 sports bras and I am always doing laundry because I ran out!!! How do you survive with ONE?
I exercise every other day, so one day is a Regular Bra Day and the next a Sports Bra Day. Whichever one I’m using gets washed by hand and left to dry until I need it again. They hold up a lot better if they’re not shredded by my campus’s shitty washer/dryers.
…supposing that you can find one that fits. I own several regular ones that almost fits, a sports bra that really doesn’t and I would like to find a fancy one. Hasn’t happened yet. Have tried everything except catching a leprechaun, wishing upon stars and building my own.
figleaves.com. I have prodigious Tits of Doom and it is where I buy all my bras now.
Thanks! I’ve never dared buying without trying it on, but maybe I should risk it. Maybe they can handle a slightly lopsided Rack of Doom.
Figleaves is good about returns! I ordered several swimsuits from them at the beginning of the summer, picked my favorite/the best fitting one, and returned the rest. They have excellent swimsuits with actual bra-sized tops, by the way.
I . . . I always felt like people were better at menstruating than I am. Like, I don’t know, why isn’t my uterus better at doing that? Because other women seem to be so unaffected like the women in the tampon commercials, or SO AFFECTED like the women in the Midol commercials, and I’m just over here crying because I ruined another pair of panties.
Side note, in case you were counting: This also means people are better than me at holding back tears AND oversharing in a charming way without being unsettling.
I’ve conceded to the fact that, since I bleed once a month, many times unexpectedly, some of my undies are gonna be stained. DEAL WITH IT WORLD. (unsettling oversharer here)
One of my favorite everyday surprises is when I realize the period stain has faded far enough in a given pair of panties that I can return them to the “Okay For Other People To See” pile
yes! or when you catch it early enough and you clean it and it comes out! I feel Jolie’s clean person presence whenever that happens.
THE OVERSHARING THING. Also the menstruating thing and the crying thing. But I’ve developed a kind of fatalism about those.
Unless you corner me and share gruesome details at me while I’m trying to eat, I will listen to anything you have to say. I WANT TO KNOW EVERYTHING.
Me tooooo, there is no such thing as oversharing. Bring.It.On.
One of my aunts bought me and my sister red panties when she learned we had begun menstruating. So wise.
It took too many years to learn that salt gets blood stains out. Kosher salt adds gritty scrubiness. I kept a tin of Kosher salt under my bathroom sink. Got every stain out. Eventually. After requisite soaking, scrubbing, cursing, more soaking, and more scrubbing.
OK, the cursing is not a step. It’s a constant.
Hydrogen peroxide is AMAZING on bloodstains.
I am the absolute best at getting meat off a chicken.
I can get two cups of meat off a piece of paper with ‘chicken’ written on it.
Writing witty comments on the Toast
I…uh…yeah.
I am literally slayed by the wit of the commenters on the Toast. I feel unworthy.
But I laugh so hard reading this site, that I think endorphins are released en masse, as if I’ve run 5 miles.
Urban legend says laughing for 5 minutes is better exercise than half an hour on an ergometer. (My former rowing teammates were not pleased by this.)
I outsourced cell phone plan maintenance to my college-age son, and he saved me $60 a month . So I recommend obtaining a daughter or son between 16 and 20 who will manage this for you. #outsourcing
13. okay so this one time I had friends staying over at my house for the weekend (3 nights) and one of my friends only packed one bra. One of my other friends was TOTALLY SHOCKED and my one bra friend ended up purchasing a second bra, such was the implication that packing only one bra meant she was unclean. I didn’t let on that I pretty much only wash bras like once a year and will wear the same one for ages and then air it out and wear it again. I would never dream of taking up packing space by even packing one bra on holiday (unless I needed a strapless one, which I never do, because 14.). Can anyone recommend what is the actual correct number of bras to own, and also to pack for short non bikini wearing breaks?
I have no advice but I am going to stand in your corner as someone who doesnt really wash bras either. I dont think boobs sweat?
Uh…I’m joining you. I have two actual bras and one very uncomfortable strapless bra which I resent bitterly but hang on to b/c I love the dress I need it for (I’m not counting sports bras b/c you definitely do sweat into those or you’re doing the sport wrong). I wash them….actually I can’t remember when I washed the black one. I wash the my-skin-tone one when it has visible dirt and this is a solid policy for all laundry ever.
The smug hippy version of this little speech is ‘I’m simplifying my life. Living with less is so freeing. Fuck you and your excessive bras*’
*I couldn’t stay in character, sorry.
My bff doesn’t wash her bras but I have to wash them all the time. Mostly because I have giant boobs (creating a sweat-funnel from my collarbone to the bra band) and am a very sweaty person, living in a hot & humid place. I will take them off and they are wet with sweat sometimes. Thankfully I can get away with febreezing them a lot and hand washing them when needed.
Yes to the frebreze. For everything.
Careful with Febreze and bras. I got a terrible reaction to the perfume in Febreze. In the wrong places. Did you know armpits can stubbornly maintain irritation for weeks? My doc didn’t, either. He had to bring in the other docs to have a look. They were fascinated and my armpits were semi-famous.
So, yes Febreze. But the UNscented kind for fabric that touches your breasts and armpits.
Or just use cheap vodka instead.
Okay I guess I’ll take one for Team Boob Sweat (AGAIN). Like, the only thing on my body that sweats is my boobs? Somehow? I wash my bras* every two weeks by hand and you would not want to see the color of the water after they’ve been soaking. You’re all very welcome for that mental image.
*I have five in normal rotation: two smooth-ish ones (neutral-colored for white or light-colored tops, black for other things) for silk and light-weight clothes and two with more embroidery (also a neutral colored and a black one), plus a strapless bra. Plus like 5 other fancy/fun bras which you can’t really wear under anything. So I guess I’m also representing Team Unnecessary Lingerie.
This sounds like me. I run errands on foot and unless the weather is perfect I end up with a sweaty bra. I try to sweat on the same two bras and save the others for the office, but it’s not a perfect system.
I have about five bras in rotation and none of them feel unnecessary.
Team Boob Sweat represent! I’m currently sitting braless in my office, with my bra slung over the A/C vent because it is SUPER SWEATY AND DISGUSTING. I’m thirsty and have to pee, but I can’t leave until things have aired out some more.
What? Boobs are skin. Skin sweats. Also, backs! Backs sweat, and unless you are the one person in the universe for whom those tape-on thingies work, your bra’s touching your back. And your shoulders. And hanging out near your underarms. Also, skin makes oil! That’s everywhere.
I confess that this is something I never thought either about until I started reading Jolie Kerr’s Clean Person stuff, but now I sort of obsess about it. I am still relatively lazy about washing my bras because I don’t have on-site laundry and I hate handwashing, but I try to do them at least once a month, and in the meantime I try hard not to gross myself out about it (only sometimes works).
I read Jolie Kerr’s bra-washing post about half a dozen times and I’m still a little nervous about her “it’s ok to just rinse them sometimes” suggestion.
There are also fancy bra-washing soaks that don’t need to be rinsed (I think Eucalan is one?), which might be a reasonable compromise between wanting things to be clean and being lazy.
I toss mine in a restaurant bussing tub that I fill with water and a bit of laundry detergent, wander off, wander back, smush them around a little bit, wander off again, drain that water and fill with clean, smush some more, wander off some more, and drain and drip dry when I go to take a shower and discover there’s a tub of bras in there. It’s very scientific.
I was once on a business trip with a coworker, and she asked me how I fit everything in my small bag for a week. Before I could reply she exclaimed that the 8 pairs of pajamas alone took up half the suitcase. Since I had only brought one pair, I just smiled and said FOLDING SKILLS, but I ask you – who brings eight pair of pajamas on a trip?
hahaha wha? I mean sure, if more pajamas than nights away is your thing, then fine, but you’ve got to know that’s unusual. You can’t play damn girl how you fit all them clothes in one bag with your coworkers when you’ve packed enough nightwear to keep an entire hotel floor from sleeping in sin.
I genuinely did not know that there are people out there who wear a different pair of pajamas every night of the week.
I mean…now that I’m thinking about it, I get the logic, I guess? But my mind is still blown. Life just seems easier as a mildly dirty person, and I’m fine with that. I just try not to be like Pigpen.
My world is a little changed by this. This is just like when I found out that there are people who use a different towel every day.
What??
Yeah. My mom is one of them. I was SO SHOCKED AND ALARMED when I discovered not everyone did this. I am now an avid hang-up-the-towel-and-reuser, but at the beginning it was a whole new world that felt vaguely like I was demeaning my after shower self somehow.
I just met one of these people! His mom was a superwoman who did laundry every day so he grew up with that, his wife had to teach him that using the same towel for a week was normal.
A week? Yeah, sure, a week…
Bras do stretch out of shape faster if you don’t rotate them, i.e. let them rest at least a day in between use. So I am Team Thrifty on that one. but only out of practicality, not because the bra would be Unclean after a single day’s use, that no definitely no, sounds mean.
Washing is hard on clothes, they last longer if you can limit how often you wash them. I have five, and mostly wear three of those: two light tan ones (high and low cut), one black, one strapless, and one sports bra. I wash them when they look dirty, in a lingerie bag or pillow case when I do a delicate cycle in the washing machine. I don’t do hand washing, even for nice sweaters, and this has always worked well for me.
I am Team Thinks A Lot About Bras, so my answers:
1. Only packing one bra horrifies me, not because of “dirtiness” but because, as mentioned, bra rotation is definitely a thing. As much as possible, try not to wear the same bra multiple days in a row. But packing two would totally be legit. The number of wearings you can get from a bra between washings will vary from person to person, but it is almost always more than three.
2. I try to own enough really comfy ones that I can do the rotating thing with one off in laundry land without forcing myself to spend an extra day in the uncomfortable ones. This means about three really comfy ones, in my case. If at all possible, spend the money to get well-constructed ones that are also cute/sexy; it means THE WORLD when your super-comfy bra days are also super-cute/sexy bra days. (I used to own almost entirely Wacoal, but I upgraded to Prima Donna a couple years back and they are AMAZEBALLS.)
3. Only own uncomfy ones based on the logistical needs you have. In my case, I have two seamless cup bras (one in nude and one in black) but no strapless ones, because I almost never need straplessness. And when I do, I can get away with tucking away the straps on a strappy one. But I have owned a single-dress-specific bra in the past, and that’s legit too.
One neutral bra that matches your skin tone so as to be invisible under a white shirt (grey or “nude” for pale ladies.) One black/very dark colored bra. One multicolored/brightly colored/fun bra. At least one sports bra, increase that number if you regularly sleep in them or, you know, do sports. Add a strapless bra if you normally wear things that require a strapless bra. You are now pretty much prepared for any boob situation.
wait, bra question amnesty, do people sleep in bras? like, inadvertent naps or like as part of pajamas? I always figured if one was horizontal then you don’t need support anymore…
Some people find it comfier, I think maybe especially people with very large or pendulous breasts. (I’ve thought about it — I have fairly big tits, and I like to have something in between them so they don’t touch when I’m lying on my side, and also sometimes I will sort of pinch the one on the side I’m lying on between my arm and ribcage, which is annoying. A soft, training-bra-esque sleep bra would probably solve those problems without being uncomfortable. So far I have been getting along by shoving a stuffed animal in between them.)
Or drawing a small dog up to your chest to provide breast separation and comforting cuddle simultaneously while lying in bed.
Yeah I have this, if I”m lying on my side, one breast will actually squash the other breast and hurt it. Does anyone remember that story from circa 1999 when that woman accidentally smothered her sleeping (super rich old) husband with her breasts whilst she was asleep? I remember reading that story and being like, well obviously I don’t mind if she killed him deliberately, but i”m pretty sure that’s possible as an accident.
I’m very confused by the thought of a bra that would keep your breasts from touching each other when you were on your side. I’m assuming this is an underwire thing? But wouldn’t that mean that all the weight of your breast was on the underwire that was separating them? This sounds very uncomfortable to me.
Oh no, I think any bra with separate cups would do it. What drives me crazy is the actual skin-to-skin contact — if I just tuck a fold of the blanket in between them, that’s “separated” enough. So it’s not like the upper one has to be hoisted up, there just needs to be some fabric or something in between them.
I have five sports bras (bear in mind I ride horses, sometimes in a white show shirt, so need black and white ones and they actually get sweaty enough in summer that I can see a salty tide-mark of sweat on the cups when I pick it up off the floor the day after, to see if I can wear it again), two plain black cotton ones (wear one while the other is in the wash), one plain white cotton one, and then many matchy-matchy sets of fancy underwear that don’t count towards the general wearing total.
My mother works for a major underwear/clothing company that gives away free samples all the time, so it wasn’t until I started reading this thread that it really sunk in that most people don’t own dozens of bras. This has been an eye-opener.
(I learned *this year* that you can re-wear bras before washing. I feel so cheated. I could have been going months without washing bras.)
Um what is the name of this company? Are they currently recruiting?
It’s Hanes Brands Inc., so I’m pretty sure with a company that large, they’re always hiring 🙂
(Unrelated: I have now given away enough personal information in the comments of this article for any of my family members to conclusively identify me. Good thing they’ll probably never read this.)
Getting your hair not to frizz out in the humidity. Everyone at work has beautiful curls or straight hair whereas I spend 1 minute outside and my hairstyle falls apart. HOW? HOW?? Also related, having the right hairspray so your hair looks good but doesn’t feel like straw. I think everyone knows this but me.
Knowing who to tip: I found out at 20 that you are supposed to tip the cleaners at hotels and was mortified that I’d never heard of that before. I was an evil no-tipper for 2 years!
I don’t know what other people are doing, but a Toastie informed me that towel-drying can lead to frizzing and that drying your hair with a t-shirt is far preferable. I’ve been doing that for around a month, and my hair is significantly less frizzy overall.
WHAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This might be The Tip that changes my (hair) life forever.
Yep. Also not rubbing it dry, but just piling it up in the towel or t-shirt for a while to dry helps.
???!
Towels break off more ends, creating more baby hairs to stick out.
This is a true fact. I’ve been using a t-shirt instead of a towel for a couple years and my hair is much happier.
YES HELLO I AM THIS TOASTIE.
Frizz is hair that has escaped its clump (its hair friends that live next to it and together they form a clump or tendril). Terrycloth has those little teeth, and they break up clumps, causing frizz. T shirts, micro fiber, and paper towels are the best for drying hair. Don’t rub, but rather scrunch (gathering a chunk of hair in your palm with the Tshirt between hair and hand, bring it up to your head, and squeeze it in a fist, repeat with the rest of your hairs).
Also important is to not comb it, or God forbid, brush it when wet. Detangling wet hair (unless in the shower with your hair coated in conditioner) is a bad idea because hair is at its weakest when wet so it’ll cause massive breakage, in addition to separating the clumps and causing frizz. If you must detangle, wait until it’s dry and use a wide tooth comb.
Yaaaay! I was trying to figure out a way to credit you but I wasn’t sure what your username was over here.
If you absolutely must brush/comb your hair when wet, I highly recommend the Tangle Teezer (http://www.target.com/p/tangle-teezer-hairbrush-assorted-colors/-/A-14220671). Way less breakage than a normal brush!
Ok, this is a thing that has always confused me. When people talk about towel-drying, do they only mean vigorously rubbing your head with a towel, or does it also apply to just wrapping your hair in a towel to let it soak up water? I’ve never done the vigorous rubbing in my life, so I’ve always thought the don’t towel-dry thing didn’t apply–but I’ve always used a pretty much standard towel to wrap my hair. Am I doing it wrong? OH MY GOD IS EVERYONE DOING THIS BETTER THAN ME
The phrase “towel drying” refers to any kind of drying with a towel, basically. Even scrunching with a towel isn’t the best idea.
As for doing it wrong, this depends! If you have very straight hair that doesn’t understand what frizz is, then wrap it in a towel all you like! If you have waves or curls and you like wrapping up your hair when wet, you might want to look into getting a turbie twist (http://www.amazon.com/Turbie-Twist-Microfiber-Towel-Light/dp/B00CP4QKT4) or plopping with a t shirt (http://www.wikihow.com/Plop-Your-Hair). Again, the problem with terrycloth is those little teeth. Basically, you want a soft, smooth surface that will preserve the clumps.
This is magic. You are MAGIC!
I have a turbie twist! I also have pretty curly hair, so I’m frizz city. T-shirt it is for me. Thanks!
Not what you want to hear, I know. But you can guarantee hairstyle success if you aim for the look that your hair achieves naturally. My baby-fine, sparse hair will wave ever so slightly at the ends. It will do nothing else without coercion. 30 minutes after coercion, all achieved effect begins to fade quickly. But my look never varies because I go for the fine hair look with the occasional tiny natural wave. My head can maintain that look for days on end.
I’ve found two things that help:
(1) A silk pillowcase, which sounds like an absurdly luxurious thing but can be found for $20 and really helps keep your hair smooth and untangled (this is the one I have, but boring cream instead of glamorous, slutty wine red! because bright colors are a thing everyone is better at than me).
(2) Wrapping your hair, either using a wet wrap after washing or wrapping it at night. There are lots of YouTube tutorials about this. Randomly discovering it has totally changed my life, which is embarrassing to admit but 100% true.
I love that the name of that product is “Pillow Case Cover Something Special For A Woman.”
PURCHASED! Thank you for the recommendation. I can’t wait to try my silk pillow out! I also foresee plopping and wrapping my hair in my future.
I don’t even know how many bras IS enough bras.
None is too many.
Not for my ladies, unfortunately.
I always end up sinking to the floor and bear hugging the dog thus gaining a reputation for being a total dog lover BUT NO for I am a secret cat person protecting her nethers.
no but i’m the actual best at keyboard shortcuts NOT SORRY I’M THE MOST EFFICIENT HUMANOID TYPIST
If you use a Mac and are good at shortcuts you are CHEATING. “Oh, so just hit Alt and the key with the accent on it and then the letter?” “Hahaha, no, actually there is a ridiculous code you have to memorize for every individual letter-plus-accent-combo.”
a compaq keyboard, high school sadness, and tolkien fandom taught me all i need to know.
You are a fount of knowledge and prowess!
NO, NO ONE is good at buying strapless bras. Do you know why? It’s because they’re a fucking lie. Good strapless bras don’t exist. Anyone who tells you otherwise just thinks it’s funny to make women have quadboobs somewhere in the region of their waists. I’m on to you, bravangelists.
You’re a tiny bit wrong. There is ONE good strapless bra – The Gossard Wonderbra one with the ‘hand-shaped’ underwire. It stays up, it does incredible things to your tits, and the only downside is the painful red line you get around your torso.
It costs £40 on sale.
I broke my old one and actually cried.
…how big does this go, as my 40DD self needs a good-to-decent strapless bra Very Soon and therefore I am in the market?
I seem to remember them going up to a G? I’m almost sure I got an F, but not sure about their band sizes.
I’m a 34FF (UK sizes) and I got one that fit me.
http://www.debenhams.com/webapp/wcs/stores/servle… is the bra
I’m also a fan of Soma’s strapless bras, and I know that they are very good about having a wide range of sizes.
Mine works, and STAYS up, but by the end of the night I’m always ready to claw out my ribcage, so. (You can have comfort or you can have a bra that stays up but you cannot have both.)
That’s what I’m afraid of. I have a Cacique one right now that I’m usually a big fan of, but it has recently started jabbing me in most unpleasant ways.
Jumping in here with another strapless bra alternative, in case it fits the bill.
The last couple of bridesmaid dresses I’ve had to wear had thin, delicate straps, and I have been DD to DDD over the last year or so. I tried on a billion strapless bras and came up empty, so I bought a moderately skinny-strap bra and hoped for the best.
The most excellent lady who does my alterations refused to let me do this, and said it would be better to sew cups into the dresses (which had serious linings, being bridesmaid dresses). I was EXTREMELY dubious–how could no bra possibly be better than a bra, even with skinny straps? She said to try it and see.
Sewn-in cups were miraculous. The bodices of both dresses were pretty fitted, and the cups were well-made, so I danced my heart out with no bra and no discomfort.
The Wonderbras with the two inches of ribcage armor as a means of holding up your boobs? I have a short torso, the only incredible thing that one did when I tried it on was obliterate my waist. Although I’m not sure that’s the one you’re talking about because at full price it’s less than £40 at Debenhams!
oh my god no that bra made my tits so high I could rest my chin on them (literally), and it made my ribcage ache. It did stay up though, I guess, but AT A PRICE.
I’ve heard that the best strapless bra is a corset, but have yet to test that theory.
THAT is an interesting theory. If it doesn’t stop at my ribcage, it can’t poke at my ribcage?
That I believe. No part of an average squishy human torso is designed to hold an elastic band up on a constantly expanding and contracting ribcage, unless you compress it and make the hips bear the load.
YES YES YES. The downside is the expense, but the upside is you don’t have to wear any other shapewear to get that obnoxiously strapless bridesmaid’s dress to fit right.
But go buy the real thing, not those fragile little “bustier” things they sell in department store lingerie sections, and *certainly* not anything found in a Frederick’s.
Wait wait wait, this lifelong hater of strapless bras wants to know where you would buy a real corset?
Mine have come from somewhat “exotic” places: the local rennaisance faire, and a sex convention. But I’ve also found that there are a few lady-positive/body-positive sex toy stores around my city, and while not all of them have the sales floor space for a large selection (although at least one does), the same salesladies that have a strong knowledge of which vibrators are phthalate-free probably have some ideas of who sells good corsetry in your city. You can also try walking into the fanciest lingerie store in your town and asking, but I’ve found actually less overlap between [good bras] and [good corsets] than I have between [good sex toys] and [good corsets].
But do insist on finding a good salesperson. You want someone who can talk about fit and durability and the difference between plastic and steel boning. Odds are if you find the good stuff, you’ll find a salesperson enthusing about her love of the good stuff.
This is 100% my experience too! Sadly the custom-sized corset I had made a few years ago no longer fits me, but I still strongly recommend spending any necessary money on getting one that fits correctly.
I would agree with that theory. I refuse to wear strapless bras (mostly because underwires are my sworn enemy) but I can wear a corset for hours.
Yes, it is, say my H-cups. The corset that fit them was too big for me everywhere else. I took it to a very good tailor and he modified the hell out of that corset. It is now perfect.
Clear straps! You can get them at some lingerie stores, like Lady Grace in Massachusetts. You have to fiddle with them the first time you put them on the bra (an item that could potentially be added to Nicole’s list) – ask the salesperson to show you how that works.
I’d tell you what brand mine is, but I’m wearing it right now! I basically went to Nordstrom and had the saleswoman bring me every strapless bra there was until I found the perfect one. It was $75 and completely worth it because it’s magic. (D/DD, FWIW.)
I am spouse-annoyingly good at #22. But taxes? I insist on doing my own every year, even though every year the IRS sends me a letter telling me I filled out some form incorrectly.
I have 3 nice-ish bras, 3 sports bras & 0 fancy bras. A lot of the time I just go braless. (I am possessed of a body type that can do this comfortably.) What I really want to do is replace my nice-ish bras, all of which mold my boobs into unnatural shapes, with bralettes or those light-impact yoga sports bras with lots of fancy straps. And maybe keep my one bullet-ish bra, for vavoom under sweaters.
I love bralettes. I’m doing them, even though my breasts are the kind people refer to as the type that need a proper bra
YES same. Underwire always ends up poking me. It was a revelation when my *mother* of all people said, if underwire bras make you uncomfortable, just don’t wear them, who cares!
do you have a favorite brand? Cosabella is a little pricey, but really good support for a bralette (and convertible between regular and racerback-style straps).
DOWN WITH WIRES! I shall never ever purchase a bra with wires. THEY ARE THE WORST.
Underwires are evil and I don’t understand how anyone thinks that they are comfortable.
Gaslighting.
#17 YES. All I do is just get drunk and then pull an #18 all over the unpleasant person.
Also, remember passwords. Also, apply eye make-up.
There is a correct number of bras? Damn.
I will claim superiority at #5, though. Never more than an easy arm’s reach from the drive-thru window 🙂
*types snarky, sarcastic comment*
*reads comments above mine*
*deletes comment*
*backs slowly away*
On my street (where I park) there is a sign that says, no parking here to corner, and then between that sign and the corner there’s a sign that says, parking for [permit holders for this area] only. So it looks like this, from left to right:
[corner A] —- “parking for permit holders only” sign —- “no parking here to corner A” sign — normal street parking
It drives me so completely bananas that I have actually considered filing a complaint with the city, purely for my own mental health. (I never have a problem finding parking outside of this vortex zone.)
Bras are super cool, though! Smuggling sweets or coffee packets or tea bags or phones! I bet strapless bras were invented by The Society for Foiling Amateur Smuggling.
I just ruined my phone by stashing it in my bra too much for my bike commute in the sweatiest months of the year. I went to our IT department all wide-eyed like “the home button doesn’t work halp?” and they ordered me a new one. I blame the bra, but not out loud to IT.
Oh, I’m sorry for you and the phone! Maybe it should’ve been the underside sticking to the sweaty skin? (I know, I know, I’m a heathen, but so far no harm for my phone.)
Don’t need to be sorry for me! My firm bought me a new one no questions asked (PERKS).
But yeah, I try to make the underside sweat side.
stashing my phone in my bra when pockets aren’t available has become so much of an automatic habit that I found myself doing it while walking past the executive’s offices at work. gonna have to add it to the work filter system.
Me too. Usually I keep my phone in my pocket and my ipod in my bra when I am walking to/from Metro, but if I am sitting down when I want to put my phone away, it goes into my bra. And of course if I am wearing something that does not have pockets. I did it in a meeting with clients the other day (fortunately I was in the back of the room and I don’t think anyone cared). People usually seem amused when they first notice me doing it though.
I reached down to pick something up in front of a client the other day, and my chapstick fell out of my top. Oh god.
I’m actually really good at menstruating (I am pretty regular, and don’t have to wear any protection whatsoever except dark underwear) and flossing. The rest, tho.
Those are the two that I’m good at! I floss every day and I never menstruate due to excellent birth control (implanon, ask me about it!), which I feel is the highest calling of menstruation.
I hate drive-throughs. Hate them so much. If it is at all within the realm of possibility I will always park and go inside to get food, coffee, or what have you. I would go inside and order a tank of gas to carry back out to my car if possible. I am in perpetual fear of not making one of those stupid tight turns with THINGS around the turn and scraping up against walls, and thus any time I’m forced to use a drive-through I end up having to lunge out to the side to acquire whatever’s being handed to me. Toll booths, too. I usually have to step out of the car to even get an automatically dispensed ticket.
…I wonder how much this has to do with my first car having a driver’s side window that froze in place a few weeks into my ownership.
Going inside to order a tank of gas made me snort-laugh out loud at my desk.
I’m guessing you are not (yet) a parent. A child in the car will inspire love for drive-throughs.
Parallel parking. Folding a pair of pants in half and hanging it on a hanger. Remembering passwords and not having to go through the whole password reset process all the time. Keeping track of library book due dates so you don’t end up blindsided by the two-day courtesy reminder. Deciding what to do when the traffic light turns yellow, and then sticking with that course of action.
Duuuuuude yellow lights tho. Every decision is wrong. I feel like everyone else is mad at me all the time when I’m driving.
I spend a tremendous amount of energy making sure I don’t have to parallel park. Doubly so now that I have a pick up with a stick shift that likes to lurch.
#15: I started packing for Australia last night and did not realize that “winter” down there means “early summer” until I did the temperature conversion. The low for the week is going to be SIXTY-FUCKING-EIGHT. I had to empty my suitcase out and start all over again 🙁
ooh whereabouts are you going? (expat Aussie here)
Brisbane! And hopefully the Gold Coast, because the friend I am staying with has promised me roller coasters and I am holding him to that.
I genuinely have no idea what I am going to be doing while there, but hey, adventure!
oh that’s good, if you get a warm day you can swim at the beach, because the box jellyfish are only around in the summer up there! have fun!
Ooh! I went to Dreamworld when I was in Australia. It was a bit underwhelming, but I’m from the east coast of the USA so I am spoiled.
I too am from east coast USA and have a season pass to Six Flags Great Adventure, so I’m sure I’ll be let down but hey, I’ve never been on a roller coaster on another CONTINENT before!!
The best thing about Dreamworld was the tigers, not the rides, but I think they stopped taking them for walks around the park, sadly. And you can hold a koala, if you don’t go to Lone Pine. There aren’t often jellyfish at the Gold Coast, and there’s always the fake beach in Brisbane.
I was in Australia last May/June, so late autumn/early winter. It was very mild to me and my boyfriend, visiting from the UK; actual residents of Australia, however, were wearing coats and jumpers. It felt very odd. (My boyfriend’s brother has now lived there for about ten years and acclimatised completely, which leads to mutual incomprehension when discussing What Counts As Hot.)
Ha. NOBODY is better than me at packing for trips.
WHAT IS YOUR SECRET??
Witchcraft! Plus I’m the product of a union between a civil engineer and a champion tetris player, which helps.
I’ve discovered the horrible tragedy of efficient packing: I get everything in my suitcase, it’s all cozy, it closes well, and then I can’t lift it because it weighs 5 million pounds.
Google Maps.
Y’all, on Sunday I got off the bus and confidently walked in the exact opposite direction I was meant to, because I thought I was smart and Google Maps wasn’t displaying North/South correctly. I walked for 45 minutes before I got somewhere I recognized enough to know I was going the wrong way. In skinny jeans. In 100 degree weather. Turned around and walked back. It’s a freaking *miracle* I’m not sunburned to hell. And yes I cried for most of the 2nd 45 minutes.
I’ve done this, but East/West. You are not alone.
Having organized kitchen cabinets and pantry shelves. How is it done?!?
It is done by people who don’t use their kitchens.
Having an organized kitchen in general. Our counters collect so much crap.
I move often. I must pack and unpack cabinets often. First clear an unrelated, larger space. Like the living room sofa and love seat. All items you hope to house in kitchen cabinets go on the sofa and love seat. Overflow goes on the floor nearby. Organize it there, where you can see everything at once. Get like things together. Create subgroups when groups get big. Then identify your largest items and begin with where they must live in the kitchen, in the tallest/deepest cabinets. Work down in size from there. I hate doing this but, damn, am I good at it.
FOLDING FITTED SHEETS
well that’s just literally impossible, no one can do that except sheet-factory robots.
Agreed. Being able to fold a fitted sheet is an urban legend.
Jill Cooper can help you with that:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Z5k9nWcuFc
I love the rumpled mess of the ‘before’
This would necessitate owning more than one fitted sheet, which I think most people do better than me.
My fiancé can do it! I don’t think he realizes just how attractive that is.
This is my superpower.
No table, I don’t have a table. I will always have rumpled mess.
push bottom corners into upper corners, the left to middle, right to middle, fold fold fold done.
There is one way to get good at it. It’s to be a hotel maid. So I can do it, but was it worth what it took to gain this super power? Probably not, that was a dull summer.
It has never occurred to me that not being able to do this was a problem.
Oh, it’s not a PROBLEM, it’s just something that everyone else is better at than me. (I’m not alone!)
Why would you do this? It’s like using a fresh towel for every daily shower. It’s unnecessary and reminds me of my Southern homemaker mother. Every housekeeping task expands to fill the time allotted and to bolster her sense of identity. If it’s easy, she has no value. Therefore it must be difficult. The more complexity and effort the better. I just wish she’d had opportunity to use her imagination in a healthier way.
Stop folding fitted sheets (roll them up quickly and shove onto shelf) and use the time to read a good book!
I am not even remotely bothered by the fact that I cannot do it, it’s just something that everyone else is better at. I generally just kind of windmill my arms around and it gets gathered into one place and shoved into the linen closet.
I like the windmilling. You get this done quickly – and with flair.
Ball that motherfucker UP.
I will never master the rest of these but #31 can suck it, hosts who announce we’re going to play a game should be met with polite stares and icy hints of disbelief.
Yeah if you want to have a game night please announce it BEFORE I accept an invitation to your place. Last time this happened to me, I chose to sit out of settlers of catan, knowing I cannot casually play anything where there is a winner or a loser, but then almost ended up in a fight with one of my friends who was selectively bending the rules and ended up beating my boyfriend (who I was just helping anyways) by ONE TURN.
Co-signed so hard. I fucking hate games. All games. I’m not even a fan of Cards Against Humanity. I love hearing about other people playing and I appreciate the combos that are photographed, posted to Tumblr, and eventually find their way to my dash. But actually playing the game?
Oh would you look at the time. Must get home to the sitter! No, still child-free. Um. The dogs. The dogs have a sitter. Gotta go. Thanks for a lovely evening.
This mostly happens at office parties. My colleagues, however nice, are not my friends. I normally reply with “HAR HAR, NO! You can find me in the bar.” If I can see them playing the game from the bar, I will interact with them sporadically by shouting “You look like twats doing that!” or something along those lines. Very satisfying.
Feeling smug because I’m PRETTY DAMN GOOD at menstruating, even if I’m failing at everything else on the list. Can I put that on my resume?
Tipping: effortless knowledge of how and when to tip in other countries and carrying appropriate small bills at all times so you do not end up tipping the porter carrying your luggage $25 in a jetlagged fog.
I firmly believe that non-painful high heels are all just a lie, and there’s a conspiracy of silence about it. I see people wearing immensely high stilettos, seemingly happily, and hear people talking about how some shoes, despite the height, are really comfortable to walk in, and just cannot get my head around it.
Yes. Though this may be because the farther the sole of my foot is from the ground, the more convinced I am that I will trip and sprain my ankle while daydreaming.
Wedges half a size too big, with Dr. Scholl’s at the bottom. Strappy open-toe heels are a lie.
I’m with you. Heels = pain. However, I have learned that certain foot shapes are less painful than others. My mother-in-law has extremely high arches and insteps. She can wear heels without pain longer than the rest of us. She does report pain after 4 hours on her feet, though.
As a high-arched person, I can attest to this. I find it easier to find comfortable, cute heels than to find flats with the same qualities. I still don’t understand stilettos, though.
I can say nothing in response except D: D: D: D:
You have so accurately reproduced nearly every single one of my anxieties.
Does anyone else just never, ever take their earrings out? AM I GROSS???
I’ve been wearing the same earrings since my best friend gave them to me as a bridesmaid’s present in 2009, with a break in the middle when one fell out and I had to replace it. COME AT ME.
I never do unless forced to for medical procedures. I’ve had the same silver hoops in for over a year.
I am team “the answer for remembering to wear jewelry is never taking it off in the first place.”
I experimented with dangling earrings in high school and always lost them while traveling. I’ve taken out my earring (yes, I am That Queer, thank you) exactly twice this year: once for a medical thing, and once to replace the broken one with the still-packaged other post.
I live in perpetual fear of my piercings closing up, so I definitely just leave my earrings in all the time. Occasionally I’ll take them out, maybe swap in a new pair for a few hours, but basically I just leave them in. It’s easier that way.
I have stretched ears and take my plugs out every night to give them room to breathe, but every other piercing I have stays filled with whatever jewelry it gets initially filled with.
I wore mine for years and years until I started working with horses, we have to take hoops out in case they get caught on hat straps or whatnot, and then I got out of the habit, and now they annoy me!
I just really prefer to be totally completely naked for at least 8 hours of the day.
Travel earrings never have to be removed. I designate my current favorite studs “travel earrings”. Cannot lose them if you never remove them.
I have college friends who have literally never seen me without my little hoop earrings. I’m trying to learn to switch things up again, but it’s a hard habit to break.
Not gross! Ceaselessly bedazzled.
The only time you REALLY need to worry about being gross with leaving earrings in is if you have stretched lobes. Then you do need to take them out regularly otherwise they start smelling funky, kinda like how unclean belly buttons do (sorry gross I know).
Also my mom took her lobe earrings out for like 20 years and they still hadn’t closed up when she tried and succeeded in putting new posts in which must be some kind of witchcraft because I’ve never heard of anyone else being able to do this. (perhaps I have a narrow definition/a low bar for what qualifies as witchcraft)
EYE LINER.
Was #35 contributed by Alex Balk?
Peeing when there are people you know within earshot.
I am, like, Level 20 at this. I even pee when my boyfriend is in the shower.
I almost just wished there was a way to monetize this ability, and then I realized there probably is, which, ew.
I would totally pay for that power.
I’ve resorted to taking my phone to the bathroom with me and distracting myself with games. I’m slightly worried that I will end up training myself to be unable to pee without phone games, but that is a risk I am willing to take.
Peeing I can do, no problem, but pooping with an audience is still a big challenge for me. I’m not proud of my limitations.
“Thinking the correct amount about the inevitability of your own death and the sure deaths of everyone you hold dear, so that you are neither insensible nor callous to the transient beauties and joys of this mortal world, nor incapacitated by that knowledge such that all actions you take are weighted with panic and fear and the anticipation of loss.”
YAY FOR THERAPY. ONE DAY I WILL ACHIEVE THIS BALANCE.
In elementary school I left some really crummy dime store earrings in for way too long, and the skin got so infected it GREW OVER THE BACK of one earring & I had to go to the hospital to get it removed. Needless to say, I no longer have pierced ears.
noooooooooo
Thank you for reassuring my no-piercing life choices.
It was just as horrifying as you imagine.
Are you my evil twin? Or did I write this and forget because the same thing happened to me!
Eventually,15 years later, I got them re-pierced because I couldn’t resist the lure of beautiful earrings. But I still remember the horror of having to go to the hospital.
I will happily be your evil twin.
And you know, I actually got mine re-pierced too, a few years after the fact. But I was such a lazy brat, they got infected AGAIN, and I just decided it wasn’t worth the trouble. I have had a pierced nose for 15 years, and that’s as far as it’s every likely to go.
Maybe you’re allergic to nickel? I know that was the case for me, so for the first two years after re-piercing, I only wore high-quality gold and silver earrings. Now I can wear just about anything; only once every six months or so I put my first surgical gold studs back in if the piercings start to feel a bit iffy. I just love earrings too much to lose the ability to wear them again.
That’s very possible! My nose stud is silver, and after the initial piercing swelling, I haven’t really had any problems. At this point, it’s been so long since I bought or wore earrings that they’re no longer part of my internal self image, which makes it easy to be lazy and not re-pierce my ears.
As a teenager, I once lost the back of an earring inside my ear! Not the normal inside of an ear; the soft skin around the earring between where the piercing went in and came out. It took me weeks to manage to squeeze it at the right angle to get it back out the hole.
YES. Oh god, we are a horrible tribe of perversions.
My skin is so sensitive that I must be careful about cheap earrings. Even the expensive ones can be irritating if I wear them too long or fail to clean them once in a while. My dermatologist taught me this great time-saver:
Pour rubbing alcohol or witch hazel or whathaveyou into the cap of the bottle you just opened. Dip your earlobe, earring and all, into the cap. Hold it there in the fluid for 30 seconds. Avoids most infections with minimal time/fuss.
Wait wait, the skin grew OVER the earring? Oh my gosh. How did they remove it?? Did it hurt? I really wow oh my god I”m sorry.
To the best of my memory, some sort of antiseptic liquid, and tweezers, followed by a shit ton of gauze. I’m sure it hurt, but I was so young I barely remember!
#35 is painfully accurate.
David Mitchell gets me.
I saw a TED talk and now I use one paper towel to dry my hands. I have never been so quick to adopt a habit in my life. I think I was hypnotized.
whyyyyyyy would you ever need to use more than one paper towel? WHY
because the ones they provide are tiny and insufficiently absorbent relative to the amount of water that clings to my (admittedly large) hands?
Yes, I saw that one too and also quickly adopted the habit! Now I quietly judge people who use multiple paper towels while feeling superior in my single towel useage.
Other things I was and am bad at:
1. Boss gives your team an impossible task to do. You look cool and confident, as if, nbd, already solving it in my head, hell, I got this, II will finish it by COB, maybe in the next few minutes. I will not ask anyone for help, I will not ask Google. I will walk confidently to my office, where I will close the door and not collapse.
2. Looking through Vogue and understanding what the style will be for fall.
3. Using new technology without RTFM.
4. Knowing left from right.
5. Understanding a house or apartment layout, and spatial dimensions, from a floor plan; and knowing whether your furniture will fit.
6. Giving directions to people on the street, because I never know. I never know. Wait, there’s an odd and even side to the street? I grew up in a small town, my address was Rural Route #2. There’s street names? What is east and west? Holy cow, north and south too? We lived next to the old Anderson farm, the one with the blue silos with the wagon wheel and funny tree, and by next to, I mean 5 miles from.
7. Cleaning the bathroom without getting completely soaked in water or getting Softscrub with bleach all over myself. Okay, just cleaning in general.
I don’t know if these are funny, I just know they’re true.
#6 is me all over. Except I did not grow up in a small town, I spent most of my formative years in NYC. Spatial things just… don’t happen for me.
Ditto #1-5 and 7 also. We might be the same person.
I was hiking in Arizona. Outdoors, no buildings in sight, just mountains and scrub. I heard people asking and giving directions. The woman said “It’s easy. Just turn left at that boulder then it’s just five blocks away.” Yes, she had an NYC accent.
35 is hard.
37. Eating literally anything without dropping crumbs everywhere
Using gift cards. Photoshop. Leaving voicemails. Buying thoughtful gifts. International travel. Hosting any sort of party. Reading quickly, but not too quickly as to immediately forget everything you’ve just read.
USING GIFT CARDS.
About once a week I think about the Body Shop gift card my brother gave me for Christmas two years ago that I still haven’t used and am overcome with guilt. Also the Subway gift card my other brother gave me for the same Christmas that I miiight have used once. Somehow I feel less guilty about that one?
Voicemails!!!! I always get to the point where I’ve said everything there is to say and yet I continue as if there’s more. “So, yeah [repeat what I already said] [silence as I realize I have to hang up] ummm bye!”
It’s okay, we voted voicemails to the top of Worst Things Ever in yesterday’s link roundup, so you are now excused from ever leaving them again. Texts instead for friends, emails for coworkers. (I remain in support of phone calls, but voicemails are like fax machines: the worst, least-effective way to communicate a finite amount of information.)
Bless the Toast Democracy. I’m as bad at listening to my voicemails as I am at leaving them. My dad loooves leaving voicemails, but he never says when he’s calling and always says the same thing in his message. which is cute and I love my dad, but it’s also like, well, please give me more details? I usually just let my voicemail box fill up (since I have a flip phone, this is easy) so I never have to listen to them. But now I’m applying to jobs so trying to be more diligent in case a potential employer leaves one…
Drinking wine at dinner without leaving the entire glass smeared with greasy fingerprints and smeary crumbs like some kind of caveperson.
Oversharing. Too real. (I’m sorry, everybody.)
#18 is my lifelong struggle.
38. Determining whether or not the restaurant bathroom is single-occupancy or if it has stalls without knocking
I like the tentatively test the door, if it doesn’t open easily it must be occupied, sit back down or hover awkwardly for fifteen minutes, try door again, realize door is just heavy gambit, myself.
That is almost my exact routine every time I go out for dinner. Also I like beer and have to pee every 30 minutes. It can get awkward.
Number 30, see also live comedy. I KNOW comedians are used to it and all that but it’s still terrifying.
” Oversharing within the boundaries of “charmingly frank” without verging into “mildly unsettling.”” YUP since 2005.
– Washing jeans / bras reasonably often.
you are not alone. i would commiserate and tell you how often i wash my jeans if only i could remember when i last did it.
20. Predicting which fabrics will result in pitted-out shirts.
Oh this one’s totes easy, guys: ALL OF THEM. (If you’re me, anyway.)
In addition to Nicole’s excellent list, my own personal failures include:
1. Styling my own hair.
2. Fucking makeup, how does it work?
#2, seriously. Every time I need to look vaguely professional or need makeup for a cosplay I have my sister or my BFF do it without fail. I don’t wear it out of sheer laziness.
Yes to both. I don’t wear makeup. My hair is curly, so I just get up in the morning and let it be what it is. It usually settles into something okay.
I finally gave up on re-punching my stupid ear holes. Ugh.
I love how no one is ever going to be like “Me! Me! I’m great at taxes!”
Not even accountants are great at their own taxes. Taxes suck.
I am great at taxes by virtue of finally deciding to hand my little bits of paper over to an accountant and paying him to deal with them. Does that count?
Yes, that counts. Because that’s what I do. Well, not that it needs my personal imprimatur. You know what I mean.
I like doing my taxes! It makes me feel like “YES I CAN MATH,” which isn’t a feeling I get very often. But I can’t really brag about it, because I’m not financially complicated (I use the short form) and I don’t make much money. I’m going to be filing jointly next year for the first time next year, though. Hopefully that won’t make things too much more complicated.
18. And I have a stunning example from just a moment ago:
My dog’s most-devoted vet tech called to check on her after our emergency room visit last night (my dog was vomiting blood because she had too big a piece of bully stick in her stomach. I am totally wrecked today. She is fine, presumably), and I just launched myself at her like a damn stress missile, about how Leela is probably fine, but I feel completely sick because that’s just how my particular anxiety-prone personality works. I also mentioned my mother’s anxieties over her horse (because, I dunno, that’s an animal too? And why wouldn’t this person who has never met my mother or my mother’s horse not be thrilled to hear all about her?) because why not give her some family background? I’m pretty sure at one point I even said to her, “I mean, you’re not my therapist, so you probably don’t need to hear any of this…”
Yes, Kat. She’s NOT your therapist. STOP TALKING.
Haha, I used to be a receptionist for a veterinarian and I can assure you you are not alone! It must be something about the stress of dealing with vet visits or being in a medical setting that makes people overshare. I knew SO much about all of our clients!
What IS the correct number of bras? Is it… more than 3?
Ahem, but, nobody knows how to use a responsible amount of paper towels better than me*. Other than that, 🙁 🙁 🙁
OK, what are the symptoms of leaving earrings out for too long? Typically I can still get the earrings in but it’s a little difficult and then starts the irritation/bleeding… I thought I just had developed a metal allergy over the years.
Is there reason to hope that I might just need to have them repierced? Can anyone share experiences? (I am very much aware that none of you is my doctor – just looking for people to talk about what happened to them.)
THANK YOU – I have some beautiful earrings that have been languishing in a box far too long.
*not a doctor* What material are the earrings made of? You might be sensitive to some metals. I have one pair of earlobe piercings that are 22 years old by now, and nothing bothers them at all. I have a second pair that are 8 years old and I don’t always wear earrings in them. When I do, they sometimes act like they’re newish piercings that are still healing. They react best to either gold earrings or the original surgical studs I got them pierced with.
Maybe before you put the earrings in, swab them and your ears with some alcohol. Also, maybe get some small, allergy-free earrings and wear them for a long stretch of time without taking them out. Something you won’t catch your hair in or disturb. Then leave them there for a month or two. Just wash with soap, but don’t remove them. This might help get your ears used to having something in there.
Before inserting earrings, push the post or whathaveyou into the end of a tube of Neosporin. That gets some of the Neosporin inside that hole in your ear. It helps to do this once a month or so.
I am no good at bras, despite having worn them since I was about nine (E cup by 13, H cup currently, woo). I have very few and will just wear the same one for weeks on end before washing it (I handwash them, at least!). I am filthy and ashamed.
Adding one to the list: washing sheets at appropriate intervals. Since moving in together, my boyfriend and I realised that our tolerance for unwashed sheets is basically infinite. I was reading something recently where people were talking about how often they changed theirs, and all of the “every week!” responses filled me with horror. (To be fair, this habit was formed by my mother, who is against washing things “if they don’t need it” due to the cost of washing liquid and electricity, and the fact that she does most of the washing.)
the best bra is no bra, except when boobs get bouncy…. then sometimes they're alright
I have not yet confirmed this personally, not having needed a strapless bra lately, but I deeply suspect strapless bras will be much improved now that I’ve sized myself properly. I know regular bras are much improved.
You know the bra size measuring method everybody tells you, where you measure under your bust and add 4-5 inches to get your band size, then measure around your bust and subtract band size from bust measurement to get cup size (1 inch difference = A, 2 = B, etc.)?
Yeah, don’t add 4-5 inches. Your band size is actually just your underbust measurement. Yes, this means everybody is wearing bands two sizes too large and cups four sizes too small. No, I don’t know why the whole world has been lying to us all our lives. But yes, this is really true. I switched from 36B to 32DD and it’s like, wow, suddenly everything stays in place and lifts and supports, and doesn’t shift around and fall down and need adjusting every five minutes.
Here’s a detailed bra size calculator.
I bet money this is why my strapless bras always ended up at my waist — without straps to hold up a way-too-large band, of course it’s going to fall down.
I was indoctrinated into the Braid Your Own Hair club by my mother as soon as she realized my hand-eye coordination situation was solid. I have in the past been accused of witchcraft when I do it in public.
#6 IS THE BANE OF MY EXISTENCE. Either I’m WAY too far from the pump itself and can get out of the car or I’m right by the pump but there’s a FREAKING POLE SO I CAN’T GET OUT! I drive a Corolla! I’m pretty sure someone designed the stations to be as infuriating as possible!
I’m good at 11 and 17 and that’s because I stick with “Keep it Simple, Stupid,” and if I get approached I say “Hi how are you it’s been a while” and let them small talk me back and then excuse myself to find ANYONE ELSE TO TALK TO. Ain’t nobody got time to spend with people they don’t want to spend time with, if it’s not necessary to do so.
I’m pretty good at keyboard shortcuts, and I’m a PRO at braiding my own hair (I was accused of witchcraft by a lady at a Braves game once who saw me do it. Highlight of my life).
#6 IS THE BANE OF MY EXISTENCE. Either I'm WAY too far from the pump itself and can get out of the car or I'm right by the pump but there's a FREAKING POLE SO I CAN'T GET OUT! I drive a Corolla! I'm pretty sure someone designed the stations to be as infuriating as possible!
I'm good at 11 and 17 and that's because I stick with "Keep it Simple, Stupid," and if I get approached I say "Hi how are you it's been a while" and let them small talk me back and then excuse myself to find ANYONE ELSE TO TALK TO. Ain't nobody got time to spend with people they don't want to spend time with, if it's not necessary to do so.
I'm pretty good at keyboard shortcuts, and I'm a PRO at braiding my own hair (I was accused of witchcraft by a lady at a Braves game once who saw me do it. Highlight of my life).
You forgot my personal worst thing: operating the shower for the first time at someone else’s house.
I have a turbie twist! I also have pretty curly hair, so I'm frizz city. T-shirt it is for me. Thanks!