I Feel Ya. But Not In Like, a Condescending Way.

Whenever someone shares with me a tale of woe, my first response is generally to say "I'm sorry" or "That's awful" and then share an anecdote about a time I went through/felt something similar.

Now, obviously, when I do my anecdote sharing, it's not in response to some big news like "My mom died." If you tell me that, I'm not going to tell you about the time my dog died. But if you are feeling financial strife, or having a hard time or work, or not getting along with your friend? I'm probably going to share a tale of something similar. And if I have nothing to share in my life that has any relevance, then I'm just going to stop at words of sympathy.

Is anecdote sharing obnoxious?

The reason I do it is to get across the fact that I really truly feel empathy for the person. I feel your pain! I have been there! For me personally, that is something I appreciate hearing from others. But am I anomalous in this regard?

One of the situations I often question the anecdote sharing is when friends are having financial troubles. Trust me people, I HAVE SO BEEN THERE. For much of college, and certainly all of law school, I was anything but financially secure. For the last 2 years of law school, I was REALLY FREAKING POOR for a variety of reasons (and yes, I did work. But yes, I was still poor). Like, sometimes I had no idea how I was going to pay the rent poor. Like, I lived on noodles poor. Really poor. (No, I never lived in a hovel- I had a decent apartment and a car and whatever. But fuck, did I worry a hole in my stomach for all the financial fear I had). Not to mention that my parents filed for bankruptcy when I was 12, and were never particularly financially secure until after I left the house. I know money worries.

But that all may sound trite and silly now from my BMW Neiman Marcus world I am fortunate enough to live in now.

So what is your policy on sharing? Are you all about sympathy, empathy or both?

Scenes From a Marriage: The Difference Between Boys and Girls Ed.

Scene: San Antonio airport, Slynnro is waiting for Mr. A's parents to come pick her up at the airport in THE CLEANEST SAAB KNOWN TO MAN! whilst talking on the phone with Mr. A, who is driving in from Dallas.

Mr. A: So I have a great blog story for you.

Slynnro: Do tell.

Mr. A: So, I stopped at a gas station on the way here to use the restroom. After I was in there for a minute or so....

Slynnro: Gross. I don't understand how you boys do that.

Mr. A: Do what?

Slynnro: Do the thing that takes more than a minute in the restroom at a fucking gas station.

Mr. A: What was I supposed to?

Slynnro: I don't know. But that's still gross.

Mr. A: Well, I don't know how women manage not to do that.

Slynnro: We are too grossed out by public restrooms generally to be able to perform that function in them.

Mr. A: Are you going to let me finish my story?

Slynnro: Carry on. Gross-o.

Mr. A: So some guy comes and is jiggling on the door. And knocking. I was like "There's somebody in here." So he leaves.

Slynnro: Gross.

Mr. A: (sighing heavily) Anyway, a few minutes later...

Slynnro: Good Lord, how long were you in there?

Mr. A: A few minutes later, I hear someone outside the door. And I hear keys. And a few seconds later the door opens.

Slynnro: Gross.

Mr. A: Yeah, so this fucking asshole dude is standing there with like the manager or something. He couldn't wait like 5 minutes to use the bathroom? He had to go get a manager?

Slynnro: Did the manager knock or say anything before he opened the door?

Mr. A: NO!

Slynnro: Why didn't you say anything when you heard the keys? You just sat there?

Mr. A: It happened to quickly.

Slynnro: You heard the keys. I cannot believe you didn't say anything.

Mr. A: It was kind of a stressful situation. I had a lot going on at the time.

Slynnro: Oh god. Gross.

Mr. A: Whatever. Would you rather I had pulled over on the side of the highway and taken care of things there?

Slynnro: It would have probably been less gross. And apparently equally public.

Mr. A: True.

Slynnro: Whatever. That's what you get for being a gross boy.

Slynnro: Eh, really, I'm just jealous.

Mr. A: Exactly.

So yes, I know I am being a bit harsh on Mr. A here, but honestly people....do you do number two in public restrooms? Obviously, my uh....bathroom moments are as well planned out and rehearsed as your average Broadway play given my bowel afflictions, but even before the GI Fairy gifted me with a slew of potty problems, I was still totally unable to do this unless it was a Dire Fucking Emergency. Am I alone in this?

Their Ads Finally Got to Me.

This may come as a shock, but I? Don't own a thing from Tiffany. I'd like to start with this piece please:

At $2650, I'm going to have to really impress Santa this year.

For more about what I'm actually spending, and my new shopping vow, check out Slynnro Spends.

Because I Had to Tell Someone. Part II.

So, I love my eyebrow lady. In a love/hate way. First and foremost, she is an Eyebrow Artiste (she even does Mr. A's brows.) In some regards, I envy her. She is near 40, and has way more of a party lifestyle that I've ever dreamt of having. But ya know, sometimes, I kind of want to kill her too. And sometimes, I just don't understand her at all.

Like today.

I went to have my brows waxed and she wanted to tell me a story.

Would you like to hear the story she told me? Of course you would.

So she tells me that one of her friends went to Austin with another girlfriend. Said girlfriend of friend proceeds to get quite intoxicated and make out with some guy she met at a bar. The guy makes several slightly creepy attempts to get the girl to go back to his house. She refuses, but does give him her phone number. Over the course of the next few days, said guy repeatedly texts her with his address trying to get her to come over to his house. She, creeped out and no longer in Austin, refuses.

But in the mean time, she develops a rash on her face near her mouth. She goes to the doctor about said rash and they take some cultures and tell her they are going to test it for various bacteria and get back with her for a diagnosis.

So she leaves the doctors office and at some point checks her phone to see several missed calls from the doctor's office. She returns the call and is told by the doctor to immediately come back to the office as the police were there and wanted to speak with her.

So she returns and the doctor informs her that the bacteria found in her face is only found in ROTTING HUMAN FLESH! The police ask her for the guy's address and they go to his house and find THREE DEAD WOMEN!

I ask her when this was alleged to have happened.

She tells me two weeks ago.

SO MY EYEBROW LADY TOTALLY TOLD ME SOME DUMBASS SCARY SLUMBER PARTY STORY AS THOUGH IT WERE REAL.

The only question here is did someone tell her this and she actually believed them, or is she just trying to fuck with me? Because she never said "HAHA! JUST KIDDING!" She actually seemed to believe that this story was true. (I Googled for the sake of Googling. This did not happen.)

So I told Mr. A, who likes to play the irritating devil's advocate in such scenarios and he actually told me that just because it didn't come up in Google doesn't mean it didn't happen.

But, being a boy, Mr. A never went to any 7th grade girl slumber parties, so ya know, I don't really think he is any position to make a judgment call about the likelihood of this story being true.

Mr. A then went on to say that if Eyebrow Lady told him this story, he'd respond with one of the following:

"Eyebrow Lady, if this story is a lie, I don't want to be true."

OR

"Eyebrow Lady, I had this same thing happen to me. I finally figured out that it was because I WAS EATING A ROTTING CORPSE AS A SNACK."

On Being a Dessert Girl.

Last Thursday, I enjoyed a delicious meal with my new Dallas blog clique, Kate, Maggie, and Mojito Maven at Hibiscus. That entire day, I was kind of apprehensive about the meal.

Why?

Well, because I had been having something of a fat day. Generally speaking, I'm pretty okay with my body. It's a body I have acquired through no luck at all, but instead by watching what I eat and working out six days a week. The one area I do hate? My ass. It bubbles out, in my opinion jutting out far too much from my backside. It's mushy. It has a bad shape. It has stretch marks.

I hate my ass. And no, telling me it's fabulous won't change that. Just ask my husband, who is constantly telling me to gain weight. Because I'm too skinny. I'm lucky like that at least.

So, on Thursday, I decided early in the day that I was going to eat sensibly at dinner. I was going to have my beloved, and relatively healthy mushroom salad, only one drink with dinner, and no dessert.

Then I got to the restaurant. The meal was planned on the same day this happened (long story short? Someone left a comment on Kate's post about her honeymoon telling her she had "floppy boobs"). As we sat there pondering what kind of horrific damage would make a person leave a comment like that, and assuring Kate that her boobs were in fact fantastic, suddenly my ass didn't seem so bad. And suddenly it seemed a whole lot more important that I enjoy a fine meal with great friends.

I've never been one to subscribe to the maxim "Life is short. Eat dessert first." Why? Because chances are you aren't going to die tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the day after that. And something tells me that after a few weeks of having chocolate cake for dinner, you might start regretting not having an appetizer salad or two instead buttercream frosting.

I've been all manner of dessert eater over the years. The kind to eat three or four, maybe sometimes even first (back in the days of the high school metabolism). The kind to avoid dessert at all costs. And the kind of girl I am today, which is the kind of girl who finally understands that some days? Are dessert days. And that other days don't have to be.

And last Thursday, after two glasses of champagne? I came home and shared a piece of Butterfinger ice box pie with my husband with no regrets.

Slynnro Spends

After a week of, er...non-thriftiness (Neiman's card, Saks Friends and Family Event, dinners here and here), it's time for some serious cutbacks at Casa de Slynnro. Or really, Purse de Slynnro (ironically, a bag by Yves San Laurent), as Mr. A is generally a cost conscious chap.

So, I'm yet again going to be tracking my spending live on the internets. But unlike last time, I will not be boring you will the intimate financial minutae of my life on this blog. Instead, I have set up Slynnro Spends. As I've said many times before, presently Mr. A and myself are doing quite well financially, but in a world of law firm layoffs and government budget cuts, both of us have jobs that are potentially on the cutting board. So it's time to start being responsible before being responsible is a necessity.

The Lesser Evil? I BEG TO DIFFER.

A recipe:

1. Sprinkle one layer chocolate chips into a bowl:

Do they have to be Ghirardelli? No. Should they be? YES.

2. Add layer of Lesser Evil Chocolate Kettle Corn:


3. Repeat each evening after work.

4. Go to doctor's office. Get weighed.

IT'S A RECIPE FOR GREAT FUN, KIDDOS!

So this is my current snack obsession. What's yours?

Something Else to do With Your J. Crew Money.

There are a lot of reasons why I'm just not sure if I will ever be ready for a baby. One of the less superficial reasons is that I don't quite know if I could ever deal with the idea of having a giant piece of me walking around, able to be hurt by other people. I've heard a few stories from Mr. A about his childhood where he talks about how he was a bit of a shy nerd when he was younger, and well, I sort of want to go back in time and beat the crap out of some kid that bullied him.

Which is why I cannot even imagine how I would deal with losing a child, like two people in my blogosphere did this week. When the first child, Maddie passed away last week, I read about it and was incredibly sad for the family, but in sort of an abstract way, as I had never read Heather and Mike's blog. But when Shana lost her son, Thalon, it was a whole lot more real. I was able to meet Shana and Thalon at Susan's Quaker Oats party back in February, and my strongest memory of the day (besides the inauguration) was seeing Thalon's big sister Moira, and how absolutely adorable and in love with her baby brother she was. To think about how the whole family is dealing with that baby brother's death is pretty unfathomable.

If you would like to help either family deal with the financial aspects of these losses, some great people have set up means of doing so. To donate to Maddie's funeral expenses, click here. And to help with Thalon's, go to Whoorl and donate via PayPal here.

Yuppiest Day Ever.

1. Get up and go to kickboxing class at your ridiculously expensive (AND TOTALLY WORTH IT) gym.

2. Go to the drycleaners. Spend $140.00 on drycleaning.

3. Go to Whole Foods.

4. Buy all the foods necessary for your trendy, but medically necessary, gluten free diet.

5. Go to the parking lot. Watch not one, not two, BUT THREE people attempt to get into your car. Because you drive the most common fucking car in Dallas.

6. Go to Neiman Marcus to purchase overpriced (BUT TOTALLY WORTH IT) skin care products.

7. Go to bachelorette party dinner at Nobu while wearing a dress you bought on Gilt.

8. Proceed to the bar at the Ritz Carlton for drinks and merriment. Where you are so freaking Dallas that you actually run into multiple people that you know.

I hate myself. If I were you, I'd hate me too. Won't this be a nice post to read back on when Mr. A and I lose our jobs and move back in with our parents?

One of the Many Reasons You Are So Glad You Aren't Married To Me.

I’ve never been the kind of person that can just fall asleep anywhere. Cars? I frequently get nauseous. Planes? I was once awake for 30 hours straight, for the duration of an evening flight to London , and then the following day spent traveling around London at which point I became totally disinterested in a trip to Paris and instead wanted to spend my day laying around the floor of a dirty flat in London .

Even beds are not without issues for me, a real life Princess and the pea. Everything is my pea (that’s P-E-A people). So I have phases to my sleep. First phase- I lay with my body turned toward Mr. A, draping my left leg over his body and resting my head on his shoulder. This phase lasts 5-10 minutes, or until my face begins to melt off as Mr. A’s skin surface temperature is approximately 9 billion degrees.

For phase two, I lay on my back. This phase lasts another 5-10 minutes, during which I have a lengthy debate in my head as to whether or not I have to go to the bathroom. Sometimes, that urge wins out and I get up and go, which will extend phase two up to an additional 10 minutes. If sleep wins out, I generally wake up with a painfully full bladder. Regardless, I prefer to just go directly to sleep as every minute is precious to me and my ability to function at work.

For phase three, I roll over on to my stomach, with my right leg bent at an angle so that the inside of my leg is touching the sheets, not unlike a stereotypical chalk outline:

I also must be laying in a cocoon at this point, which must be comprised of at least two layers of covers regardless of the season (I sleep at all times with the fan on high and the a/c with as low of a temperature as Mr. A will allow). The cocoon must go so high that it covers the back of my neck, and the end of the cocoon must be tucked under the top part of my body so that I am actually laying on top of the end of the covers. I am basically in a blanket taco. For the left side of my body, the covers must be tucked under my back so that I am fully enveloped. This is actually to keep heat OUT and not in, as Mr. A’s body is so warm that it will heat me up from several feet away if I do not provide a protective shield. Occasionally, I will allow my right leg to hang out of the bottom of the cocoon. If Mr. A is getting extra toasty, and he randomly tends to do.

So how do you sleep peeps? And do any of you have a routine nearly as elaborate as all this? I'm guessing no.

Going Green.

Mr. A and myself made a little trip to Crate and Barrel on Saturday, wherein we proceeded to purchase everything that was available for purchase in the color green:

Melamine Measuring Cups and Spoons




Margarita Pillows

Citrus Trivet (but in green)


Acrylic Bar Glasses

Paige Jacquard Dishtowel

Leaf Metal Soap Dish (which I use to set my jewelry on at night)

Mr. A and myself basically spend NO DOLLARS on home decor. Why? Because I am completely incapable of making a home decor decision. And because we rent. This place feels temporary because it IS temporary. I'm in a major "I want a house" phase, which is beyond untimely considering the volatility of the market for capital markets associates like Mr. A. Right now we could afford a pretty nice place (like this adorable cottage that would give us a coveted Highland Park address- I prefer adorable cottages within the Dallas city limits to 4,000 square foot McMansions in the 'burbs. Sorry friends.), but that could vanish pretty easily at any time.

So we are waiting. I'd rather be cash rich if either of us lose or jobs. But still, one day? We will own a house. And I'm never going to be able to decorate it. How do you do it, homeowners? How do you keep track of your design ideas? Where do you get your inspirations? Because I'm thinking I am going to need 4 or 5 years to get my home decor shit together.

Merci!

Thanks for all the great positive feedback on the potential for a Slynnro Makeover! I've decided I am definitely going to do it!

To say that I wasn't expecting so many volunteers is quite the understatement, so some time this week, I will pick a name from a hat (or more likely a random number generator) and alert the big winner (uh, that seems a little arrogant- hey! I'm going to tell you what to buy. YOU'RE THE BIG WINNER!).

But before I do that, let me fill you in on what my plan is so that if you volunteered, you can still back out. My plan is to formulate a questionnaire, which will ask about budget, needs, work dress codes, which areas of your closet need the most help, how much time are you willing to devote to your hair and your makeup, etc. And I would like to see some photos of you as well, to get an idea of what you look like and what would look good on you. I'd also love to see what you are wearing now and how you think it could be improved or changed. So you will have to do some work too! And obviously, I would love it if you were willing to follow up on any shopping or other changes you make as a result. In fact, I may constantly fill your inbox with requests for that exact thing.

So who among you are willing? Or who among you that have already volunteered are no longer willing?

Because I've Always Wanted to be Stacy London.

No really. At the end of 3L year, I actually told my law school adviser that when she suggested I look into alternative careers. Lest you think I'm a fool, I should mention that my law school adviser was known primarily for her eyeball size diamond and the fact that she married into a family who has their own law firm. So let's just say, she shan't be judging me.

Tonight, I was reading your comments on the post begging for post ideas. You may have noticed my blog uh, still sucks. This is a product of a sudden lack of time, and a sudden lack of genius inspiration. I suppose some of you would argue that the lack of genius inspiration has been going on for a while now, but I would suggest that some of you are also jerks.

Anyway....

Someone suggested asking people to submit themselves for internet makeovers orchestrated by yours truly. Uh, OBVIOUSLY I would LOOOOOVE to do that. But would you? Would any of you volunteer to have me suggest new clothes or makeup or whatever? Because you'd be making my wildest dreams come true. But I fear no one is actually THAT interested in my opinions. Do tell.