Tuesday, December 23, 2014


The Yahoo! home page posted an article today entitled, “Eight not-so-obvious signs he’s cheating” (yes I have a Yahoo email) and no, I didn't read it (because pshhhhh), but I found a "sign" they need to add!!!

If he gets mad that you marked him.

Wait, sorry, clawed him.



Nails are tough little things. Ask any new mom. 


And when these nails are on an adult, and the adult nails really, uh, like something about someone...they may inadvertently claw it. Like a cat.

My friend Julie was this very cat. She started dating her boss, Graham, the manager at the place they both worked. 

Graham was cute and nice (seeming) and went out of his way to court her. He asked her out…paid…haha...and complimented her.

They became regular sleepover buddies.

Julie started really liking him, and taking all of the wonderful things he said to her to heart

They didn’t see each other every single night, but pretty regularly. They were properly dating.

But then one night, after a particularly hot evening that got, hahhahaha, handsy, Julie saw the next morning that there were very obvious cat-like claw marks on his right hip.

“!!!!!” she told him. "HOTT!!" 


But instead of laughing or feeling like a stud (or “going for round 8,” as Julie describes…haha), Julie said Graham flinched...FLINCHED!... and FREAKED OUT.

“What the F---!” he said, contorting his body to get a closer look at the marks. “How do I get rid of this?”


How to I get RID of this??

“What?” Julie asked. “What are you talking about? Who is looking at your hip bone?


“No one!” Graham yelled.


Graham then said something about how it will be "a problem working out at the gym" hahahahahaha which was hilarious because no straight guy shows his hip to anyone at the gym.

(Ed note: Wait...right??)

No, obviously. the problem was someone else seeing his hip.

Julie said she "looked into it at work" with the other employees and duh, it turned out Graham and his hip were very much hanging out with another girl.



Thank God for Julie's long claw nails, right????

I mean, is this is what it's come to? Needing to mark your territory on a guy to find out if he's your, and your turf alone?


How much longer would Julie have thought Graham was this sweet, awesome guy if she hadn’t Wolverine-swiped him and saw his reaction?


New superhero: Cat claw ladies.



Tuesday, December 16, 2014


JNEWSFLASH: Not everyone is interested in you.

I know, I know! Shocking. 

Shocking to ego-inflated guys who can’t understand why a single girl wouldn’t want to date them. 

(But my mom says I'm cool!)

Of course, there’s nothing wrong with confidence. 

Confidence is a key trait to get a girl interested in you. 

But it’s important to carry that confidence over even if you get rejected. 

Such as: Oh, well, there are lots of other fish in the sea versus, uhhhhASKING THE GIRL WHO’S NOT INTERESTED IN YOU IF SHE’S A LESBIAN.




Because her being a lesbian is the ONLY possible explanation for why she wouldn’t be interested in you.


This LOL situation happened to ME (of course) when Peter, this guy I worked with years ago, asked me if I was a lesbian.

...in the workplace.


Peter, a mildy attractive guy a few years older than me, was pissed because he left his cell phone number on a torn piece of paper on my desk asking if I wanted to go fishing with him. 

I didn’t. 

(In fact, I don’t know how he got the idea that I would want to do anything with him.)

Now, in general, having a romantic relationship with a co-worker is pretty dumb. There’s even a thoughtful “don’t shit where you eat” expression for this. (Someone make me a needlepoint!!!)

But, if you just NEED to ask out someone you work with, the same rules apply as if you were to hit on someone at a bar: if they don’t show interest, leave them alone.

I, for one, left Peter’s note well enough alone. In fact, I didn’t touch the piece of paper at all. 

For two weeks, it sat untouched at the end of my desk. 

When Peter would walk by my office, I would be polite, but neither one of us mentioned the note. 

This was supposed to be his clue.

Weeks passed, and Peter got increasingly irritable.

But rather than bring it up directly, or wrap his head around the "lots of other fish in the sea” concept, one day Peter walked into my office and spoke.

“OK, I just have to ask,” he said. “Are you gay?”




(FYI: I’m sure being asked your sexual orientation at work is illegal.)

“No, I'm straight,” I said, barely looking up from my computer screen, feeling ambushed.

Peter then abruptly walked out of my office, just to make a 360 degree turn and walk back in two seconds later.

“But...you don't have a BOYFRIEND,” he said, argumentatively.


I blinked at him, unsure of how to respond.

He stood there, waiting.

“Umm,” I started. “Just because I don’t have a boyfriend doesn’t mean I don’t...want a boyfriend,” I said. 


That’s when it hit Peter that I was a single, straight female who wasn’t interested in him

And he couldn’t handle it.

“YOU KNOW WHAT??? FINE!!!” he screamed. (Seriously. Screamed.)

And then he stormed out of my office.


I sat there in shock, wide-eyed. 

WHAT THE---???

Was I on hidden camera? 

I actually scanned the ceiling.

Before I could even text my twin sister, Joy, “Well I’m on the Truman Show again,” Peter barreled back into my office.

“YOU KNOW WHAT?” he repeated angrily, grabbing his handwritten note off my desk. 

“I DIDN’T THINK YOU'D CALL ME ANYWAY!” he said (hahahahahahahaha), and then dramatically crumbled up the note and threw it in the trash can by the door.



Thirty-four years old, shredding his own note!

He was mad, ya'll.


I stared in silence the whole time. 

Then Peter stormed out again, left the building completely, and never spoke to me again the remaining four months I worked there.



Sorry, Peter. 

It’s not me. It’s you.


Tuesday, December 9, 2014


Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea for my friend Mallory, who owns her own accounting firm, to date Henry, her recently-hired assistant (and her only employee).

But Henry was incredibly attractive and they got closer as they worked together in close quarters.

Also, because she had hired him, she knew that he had no criminal record and a good credit score (ha).

They dated for almost six months and things started out great, but Mallory said Henry started showing “some weird control issues.”

“Maybe it was the fact that I had all the power over him,” she said. (And signed his paychecks.)

Because it wasn’t your normal picking-a-fight stuff. It wasn’t a complaint or a disagreement about anything.

Henry just started acting out, like a frustrated toddler.

...And Mallory was mean mommy.

For example: “We were getting in the car, and I was locking up and I said, ‘Will you take this to the car?’ and handed him my laptop bag. He walked out to the car with it and instead of putting it in the trunk, dropped it in the middle of the road,” Mallory said.



“I asked him, ‘Why did you do that?’ and he said, ‘because you didn't say 'please.' You have no respect for me.’”



Mallory said this was an ongoing issue: Henry would constantly accuse her of having “no respect for him,” which was HIS paranoia and not true (at least not at the beginning).

Constantly, he’d try and wield what little power he could come up with about the most ridiculous things.

“Once I shut his laptop without turning it off which turned into a fight about ‘me not having respect for his property,’” Mallory said.


(Uhhhh she has no respect for his laptop because she closed it without turning it off, yet he drops her laptop in the middle of the street to make a point???)

Henry the Hypocrite!!!

Of course their “fights” were always about a laptop. Because that’s literally all Henry had to work with---hahahahahaha

After one particular three-hour fight, again, ABOUT A LAPTOP, Mallory said they finally broke up and Henry decided to move back home five states away.

He kept in touch after he moved away, and kept texting Mallory sweet things. When it was tax crunch time (April?) she said Henry asked her if he could come back to town and help her with work.

“I was swamped so I said yes and offered to put him up in a hotel,” Malloy said.

But Henry insisted that he was fine staying at her place.

What the hell, Mallory thought.

They had a fun couple of days together sleeping in the same bed and playing with his dog that she missed terribly.

But she couldn’t help notice that Henry was on his phone, constantly texting.

After some prying on her part, it came out that Henry was actually dating someone in his hometown. For the past three months.


But Mallory took it in stride and simply told him to sleep on the couch that night.

It wasn’t even a rude gesture. She could have very well kicked him out completely.

But of course, that gave her all the power again. 

Her house, her couch, her rules. 

And we all know how well Henry does with Mallory having power.

“He left the next day without telling me, didn’t even finish the work I paid him to do and took all the money,” she said.




So, obviously, Mallory kept his laptop.


Friday, December 5, 2014

How the Friendsgiving was won

I know, what better time to post about Friendsgiving than two weeks after the fact when no one cares?????

(Well. I’ve been too busy eating.)

I hosted Friendsgiving two weeks ago and and...well, a few people showed up...

A photo posted by Genevieve (@jennyjenny504) on

“Are 42 people really coming?” asked Sara, my new roommate (shown above, making that exact same face) when she saw the Facebook invite replies.

“No way!” I said. “Facebook is filled with a bunch of liars!”  (Hahhaha....uhhh no offense).

“It will probably be half that many people,” I said.




(Actually, I’m not sure if the pilgrims were liars.)



In truth, I was expecting around 20 people. It was a Sunday, it was rainy, and everyone was instructed to bring a homemade side dish, which, you know, is work.

My twin sister, Joy, started the Friendsgiving tradition several years ago when I lived in New Orleans where, as host, she her boyfriend fries a whole turkey and everyone brings a homemade side dish.

I moved back to South Carolina at the end of last year and this was my first Friendsgiving as co-host.

As always, with any party that I help throw, I spent the hour leading up to the party fretting over whether anyone would show up (hahahahahaha)

So I busied myself with banana pudding.

The previous week, I had read several “how to host a perfect Friendsgiving” lists on Huffington Post, which instructed people on what to bring and how to act, blah, blah, blah.

But they left out a very important tip.

“ICE! WE NEED ICE!” I declared, while bringing empty ice chests to the back porch for guests to store their beer.

Hey can you bring ice on your way?” I texted my friend who lives a few minutes away. “You can go to that stand on the corner where you pay $1.75 for a 16-pound bag!”

After a few minutes, she texted me back.

“Umm do you think you can ask someone less pregnant to do that?”


I almost slapped myself with the stick of butter I was holding.

Insider tip: the seven-month pregnant friend shouldn’t be the one to haul 16 pounds of ice in and out of her car. In the rain.



And, with over 40 people there was hardly room for everyone’s delicious food on the table. 

And, we hadn’t really come up with a concept on where people would sit at all.



But, in truth, I don’t think anyone expected us to have those pesky details figured out. Because they’re our friends and they know us. (And we make it up to them in mulled wine.)

Now, I don’t really want to bring up the Indians and (lying) Pilgrams, but I do want to make the analogy that friends of all different kinds came together for our Friendsgiving.

Old friends, new friends, former roommates, current roommates, pregnant friends, friends’ children (ones outside of the womb), kickball friends, co-workers, our friend’s mom!

All were meeting each other, catching up, moving in and out of rooms, serving themselves from the 25 side dishes and TWO fried turkeys, eating banana pudding out of plastic cups when we ran out of plates (60 PAPER PLATES! WE RAN OUT OF 60 PLATES!)

It was just like the Pilgrims and Indians, except not enemies, people from all different walks of life coming together for revelry and fried turkey and more pumpkin pie than I could eat in my lifetime.

Now, I know this is cheesier than the three mac-and-cheese dishes we had on the table (nom nom nom nom nom with Ritz crackers on top), but I was sincerely touched by each and every person’s presence that evening.

We’re all getting older (well some of us don’t act it as well as others do...ha) and people lose touch over the years, and even with everyone’s busy schedules, the number of people who took the time out to FRIENDS-GIVE was touching.

It’s hard to feel alone in the world when you have so many people around you.

And knowing that each person slaved over a hot stove all day to make absolutely delicious food made it an absolutely wonderful Friendsgiving MY FIRST! (that’s what she said)and one that I will never, ever forget.

...And THAT'S what I’m thankful for today.

That, and the fact that I now have an excuse to always only ask guys to bring the ice.


(Haha one of the 60 plates is cutting off Joy's face)

(Baby Rhett!)


Tuesday, December 2, 2014


Walt Disney was right as sh*t – it really IS a small world after all...especially when you cheat on your girlfriend.

Because she’s going to find out.

Oh yes she is.

If not from your sketchy, sneaky cheating behavior, or your non-password protected phone—she will find out because it’s a small EFFING world.

It’s like the movie serendipity, only the opposite of romantic or fortunate.

Case in point: Ryan, this guy who was apparently a big fat cheater but who pretended not to be, picked up my friend Lauren at friend’s Christmas party and they spent the next two entire days together.

Ryan was from out of town but “visited a lot” and he had a fancy hotel room and Lauren happily played tourist with him in New Orleans walking down touristy streets and eating at Jimmy Buffet’s restaurant or something.

It was silly and fun and for TWO WHOLE DAYS they saw each other every second of the day and night(s).

Ryan was cute, a traveling sales person for something, and therefore incredibly charming. 

Even though a relationship was unlikely since he lived two states away, Lauren was flattered by the attention and had fun escaping life in a hotel for a while.

Reality hit her hard when the morning he had to leave, he gave her a long kiss and embrace and said he’d talk to her soon.

“But, you don’t have my number!” Lauren said as he was literally out the door.

“Oh...well...I’ll just see you around!” Ryan said and then left.


See you around. 

See you around WHERE????

Lauren was disappointed.

But she figured Ryan just didn’t want to engage in a long-distance relationship at all.

She was unable to get any information about him—he was a guest of a co-worker at the party who no one really knew. He didn’t live in town. 

She couldn’t find him on Facebook (although she wasn’t sure if she got the right spelling of his last name...or if that was indeed his last name.)

She forgot about Ryan after a few weeks and several months later, to make some extra money for the holidays, she picked up shifts as a hostess at a fine dining restaurant in town. 

It was a random job; Lauren had an office desk job that had nothing to do with the service industry but wanted extra spending money.

How many fine dining restaurants are there in New Orleans? Hundreds.

And how many shifts are assigned at the fine dining place Lauren chose to work? A dozen.

And how many co-workers who happen to work during the same shift become instant friends? Even less.

And how many of those new friends who work during the same shift at the same restaurant figure out that THEY BOTH HOOKED UP WITH THE SAME GUY, only he was supposed to be in an exclusive relationship with just one of them?? 



Needle in a haystack sh*t!

Lauren’s new friend at work was Hillary, a server, who was SO EXCITED about her long-distance boyfriend coming to town. 

She took the weekend off and reserved them a romantic table.

“It’s our four-year anniversary!” Hillary said. “And he’s never eaten here before, I can’t wait until he sees how hooked up we’re going to get!”

(Ed note: "Wait until he sees the hook up" is right. Bahahahaha)

Lauren asked a giddy Hillary more questions about her upcoming date.

“What does he do?”

“He’s a salesman who lives in Atlanta, but he comes to New Orleans a LOT.”

 “Cool, what’s his name?”



“Could I...see a picture of him?” Lauren asked.

She knew before Hillary could even show her the photo that it was Ryan. The same Ryan she had spent two incredible days with nine months ago.

And then it sunk in....it was he and Hillary’s FOUR-YEAR ANNIVERSARY???!!?!?!

Lauren wasn’t the best at math but....(counts on fingers)...uhhh...yea...CHEATER.


“See ya around,” she recalls Ryan had said without taking her number.



Lauren told Hillary that she, ahem, KNOWS him, that she actually spent time with him last year, adding, “I don’t know if you guys had an understanding back then, but...”

Hillary flipped. What??? When??? That holiday?? THAT holiday when I was visiting my family?!?!??!

(Turns out they had no such undestanding.)

“The worst part is that she was the NICEST girl,” Lauren recalls.

Hillary went home early that day (“sick to my stomach”...not far off) and the next day cancelled her reservation.

“Yea, we’re DONE, “ she told Lauren over the phone, who happily struck the reservation from the books. 

“I called him out on cheating without giving details, and he admitted to cheating one time, but it was during a DIFFERENT TIME than what you told me,” Hillary said.



So basically Ryan was cheating on Hillary during and not during the holidays, clearly underestimating the power of the "It’s a Small World After All" concept.

Because it’s easy to cover the obvious bases when cheating on someone. (Phone, Facebook, an alibi.)

It’s much harder to factor in that your side-piece hookup will serendipitously take a random part-time job as a hostess at the specific restaurant where your girlfriend works and they will become fast friends and discuss you and find out you're a big, fat cheater.

I guess that's just the world we live in.

Thanks for keeping ‘em honest, Walt.



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