What’s 722 Days Among Friends?

WordPress texting me to ask if I’m ever coming back

So it’s been 103 weeks + one day since my last (first) post. 

I have jeans older than that! Reading over my first & last blog post from 2018 is quite a cringe fest journey. Drake was hiding a son, crazy stuff. Anyway, if you got to this point that means views + traffic = ego satisfied and I honestly appreciate it! If you don’t have the time to read this: I know you’re lying, we’re in quarantine.

First of all, I am still loudly stabbing away on my trusty MacBook that was born in 2013, which will be replaced on Tuesday for a sexy little Windows Surface number. She’s sleek, she was on sale, and she’s matte black — the color of my future G Wagon. I hate Apple products but will forever be tied to my iPhone, so I’m retaliating in any way possible. No one brand should have all that power.

Bullying for a good cause

I will confess that in the last two years I successfully bullied one of my best friends to switch from a Droid to an iPhone (you’re welcome, Tim Cook!) because green texts when you have cellular service is honestly psychotic and I cannot and will not be a third party to the madness. I also annoyed a friend who may or may not be the same individual into cutting up her bright yellow SPIRIT AIRLINES CREDIT CARD (what the HELL) and hopefully she has cancelled her Pandora subscription (are you a Dentist’s office?) for a more current music streaming service. I’m not being classist and would never judge someone for having these things if that’s their M.O. This girl has a new paid-for BMW that we obnoxiously call “the beater” and therefore can afford things like a smartphone that sends iMessages and to not fly or have a credit card attached to Spirit Airlines. As for the Pandora subscription post 2009, I really cannot justify that as anything other than poor decision making.

If you have read my last post, I am also no longer rocking long acrylic nails. Personally, I still love the aesthetic but have outgrown the maintenance requirements and the look on me, which is sad and boring but that’s twenty-[redacted], baby! I still remember feeling extremely vexed when Gabi and I went to San Francisco to see Lana Del Rey and she was sporting natural nails. My thoughts went as follows: WTF? How could you? This is your persona! You’re my muse! I came to see DRAMA, not some granola girl. This is my personality now! Now I understand that there are more important things than seeing my Cambodian angel Mey every two weeks for three hours, and I have taken that time for more important things, like rewatching Desperate Housewives.

Little did 2018 me know that leaning into my sad girl Sylvia Plath mood would prepare me for forced worldwide social isolation via:

A GLOBAL PANDEMIC!

hbo don’t sue me

People are graduating on Zoom. Weddings are being pushed back. Television shows displaying large groups of people congregating without masks and standing closer than six feet apart make me gasp, and I have turned into the Social Distancing Police. While I generally try to avoid large crowds and am a homebody to the core, I find myself milking even the teensiest morsel of small talk and loving every minute of it. Are prawns the same as shrimp? How is your dog?! This weather is amazing! To public service workers: Do you hate when customers don’t wear masks? (Answer is an emphatic yes).

So why did I start back up after roughly 17,328 hours of not blogging? 

I took the week off for a music festival which was canceled (thanks, COVID) and am no longer able to consume any medium of entertainment. Only so many apartment projects, readings, and chores/errands a gal can do before she needs to get all of her thoughts out and work on her blog. I’m not sure how anyone else’s brain works but I literally feel like Carrie Bradshaw up here, and I need to share it with strangers friends online!

hbo, please see above

My friends make me look bad. Two of my best and brightest friends Staissa and Jaylen started a brand/blog called 26 & Broke (Kinda), where they buy beauty and lifestyle products (skin fridges and $60 scrunchies), and are spunky and wild and creative. Another best friend of mine, Gabi, has started two lifestyle instagrams: one for her playboy cat @ladiesloveyoshi (honestly the content level is on 10) and a personal page which documents her retirement which was jumpstarted after some psychopath created a video montage of Gabi’s Snapchat rants about wanting to quit and sent it to her managers and coworkers. It was horrifying at the time, but after about two weeks we approached the “we can laugh about it now” territory. Every single friend of mine is insanely creative and talented and I just want to wear them/be them complement (and compliment!) them.

I really would love to be a best friend’s personal assistant so I want all of my friends to be wildly successful. Hannah, please hire me get you coffees/anything when you’re working for Chanel in Paris or London. Ulterior motives are fine!

Since we have so much downtime and are highly encouraged to not frequent anywhere except grocery stores, I will be organizing my thoughts into little ramblings weekly.

You’ve officially read a blog post about nothing, “which means it’s actually about everything” as told to me by a friend. And that’s good. It’s pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty good.

Here’s to sticking with it.

▽ ap