Leather vs Leatha

For as long as I can remember I've wanted leather pants (or for just the past 2 years, since I stopped being fat, but everything before then doesn't really count anyways).  The leather pants I want are of the Helmut Lang variety and run approximately $960.00.  I've tried to convince myself more times than I can count that they're worth the money since they're an "investment piece".  But then I look at my paycheck and laugh out loud and realize I'm obviously delusional and go on about my way. This game goes on from time to time and sometimes I actually convince myself I can afford them. But then I remind myself I still want to lose 10 pounds (maybe 15 if I've seen a picture of Gwyneth Paltrow that day), so I decide to hold off a bit longer.

...and so I wait...and wait.

Well I haven't lost the 10 yet (I think I might be down a solid 6 ounces today though - having a thin day) so I decided to search for fake "leatha" pants - the kind that don't make me look like I've been shopping at Wet Seal circa 1995.  I found some cool ones that were only $80.00 but then realized they created the sizing based off a toddler and I was going to have to upsize 4 sizes - umm. I. Don't. Think. So.

I then found some that had leatha on the front, fabric on the back. I decided I liked them...buut they were $300.00. That seems like a lot for a plastic/cotton combo. So I was back to deciding I would lose the 10 pounds and buy the real leather pants.

And then it happened. Target.com found me and saved me. They had a failed designer collection where basically everything went on sale and I ended up getting myself some brand spankin new leatha pants for $20.99. I mean WHAAAT?!? I thought about buying 2 pairs and then realized I didn't even know how they fit and for all I knew I could pull them up and they could split down the middle. So I patiently waited the 5 business day delivery period. I got the confirmation email they had arrived and screamed with joy (inside of course, I work in an office with cubbies - no one's interested in my screams of joy or really my speaking - although the other day I caught myself singing - awkwaaard).  The second I got home I put them on - euphoria - they fit and looked fabulous. OK so the waistband is a little tight (only need to lose like 2 pounds for that though) and the crotch rides up just a wee bit (a mini squat takes care of it and you get a workout in), but for leatha pants under $25.00 that don't make me look like a street walker - they're F.AB.U.L.O.U.S.

So my new goal for the actual leather pants is just to buy them when I go on tour with the Rolling Stones. Yep. Totally not delusional at all.

TMI

My mom told me the other day if she's going to get a boyfriend she "needs to get sexier sleepwear".

It was one of the few times in my life I'd wished I was deaf.

Have you ever played that game "what here doesn't belong"?

Have you ever been introduced to someone and on the outside you look as if you're paying attention, but 2 seconds later if that person asked you what their name was you'd just stare at them?

Have you ever met someone 3 times, had extended conversations, had mutual friends, heard about them multiple times and then seen them at a party and go "I don't think we've met"? No. Probably not. Because you're. not. stupid.

This past weekend I attended this fancy schmancy party. Immediately I had to repeat my fancy party mantra "Be. Appropriate. Be. Appropriate". I tend to make jokes/inappropriate comments when situations  are too serious (reeeeeal awkward at funerals).  I also tend to shout inappropriate things as if I'm a tourettes person having a panic attack, when I feel like people are taking themselves too seriously - hence my fancy party mantra.

In trying to decide what to wear I decided peplum and pearls were appropriate, so naturally I wore animal print pants - nothing says fancy like leopard spots spread across your ass. My Prada black booties were AMAZE, however, it was POURING rain outside, obviously I couldn't ruin them (see redneck run) so naturally I wore flip flops. I figured I'd just change them in the bathroom right when I got to the party. Unfortunately when we arrived we were basically IN the party. I panicked and immediately took off my shoes. It was then that the owner of the house came over to introduce himself. There I stood - shoeless, in my lime green rain jacket, and wet leopard. I handed him my bag with my flip flops and said "err thanks. Love the house".  I might as well have been wearing a sign "I. Don't. Belong - Not. Fancy".

After I got my shit together I mingled (aka: I drank heavily) and ate some food. I asked where the lil smokies and bagel bites were, but no luck - it was dip with names I couldn't pronounce with ingredients I couldn't decipher. Oh well no food = more alcohol.

Around this time she talked in. I'll just call her "Bee" (I could call her "I have shit for brains and no facial recognition capabilities" but that seems excessive). She is really good friends with one of my best friends. My friend has insisted for over a year now that Bee is a "really good person" and that sometimes she just doesn't come across the best (aka: ignoring me at her Christmas party). So for the I was determined (against my better judgement) to give her a chance. We've met several times and hey, fourth times the charm. Below is the conversation that ensued:

Bee: "Hiii, I'm Bee"
Me: "Hi"
*my friend says my name*
B: "Ohh, what's your name? I don't think we've met?"
Me: "umm, no. WE.HAVE."
B (slightly panicked at looking at my friend): "ohhhh, umm, I thought she said your name was Erin?"
Me: "uh huh, yah, NO".

Then I walked away. Over it. If you want to be a bitch - I can accept that. If you want to ignore me - then you're a bitch, but once again I accept that. If you want to act like WHITNEY, sounds like ERIN - then you're stupid and I can't be friends with stupid people.

The moral of this story: Be yourself. Unless yourself is stupid - in which case - stay home. Or move - - far far away.

Amusing Things Vol 2

Yesterday I needed chocolate BAD. Like it was a chocolate 911 emergency. I didn't have any, but then I remembered my trail mix had chocolate chips in it.  So naturally I picked them all out and ate them,

Now my trail mix only has nuts and dried fruit in it. Gross.

Amusing things Vol 1

The other day my boyfriend and I went to Home Depot and I yelled "No you can't touch my boob!"

It was super funny.

To me.

Not to him.

NYC - Night 2

On night two we decided to hit up our FAVORITE bar - Joshua Tree. For those of you who've never been, well you've truly never lived. For those of you who have been and don't like it? Well, we can never be friends.

We positioned ourselves right by the DJ and requested our favorite songs (a little Def Leppard, Bon Jovi, and Ace of Base - obviously).  A guy approached and introduced himself and his friends and once again I was able to get Ayla free shots. One of the guys said he was a doctor. So I took it upon myself to inform him it was a shame he picked such a dead end career that would make no money and help no one...that veterinary medicine is truly where it's at now. He looked a bit stunned...I felt fulfilled.

When we got back I took a shower and when I got out Ayla was sound asleep...so I shut off all the lights and off to sleep I went. I have no idea how much time passed before I heard POUNDING at the door. It took me a while to even realize it was OUR room that the pounding was occurring at....I woke up Ayla (who somehow had completely missed it) and up she went to the door. Turns out Sleeping beauty had ordered room service while I was in the shower and then passed out, so when I got out I had no clue and just went to bed.

I lifted the lid and go "you ordered macaroni and cheese?"....she goes "yah, gotta keep it classy".   So there we sat...at God only knows what time eating french fries and macaroni and cheese.....

 

NYC - Night 1

I was recently in NYC to celebrate my friend Ayla's birthday.  We were going to eat, drink, shop, and drink. We were determined to play up her bday as much as possible (I equated this to telling everyone we came into contact with to buy her a shot - but more to come on that front).  Upon arriving at our (amazing) hotel Ayla informed the front desk guy, let's call him 'P', it was her birthday, they immediately bonded as his birthday was 2 days later. He said he'd send drinks up to our room. SCORE. First freebie courtesy of the birthday excuse. Since it was quite late we immediately got ready to go out once we got to our room. A few minutes later we got a knock at the door. We looked at each other thinking the same thing "drink time!".  We opened the door annnnnd it was P...the front desk man. Err confused?  Ayla goes "umm you're delivering the drinks?".  The drinks being a half opened bottle of vodka in a brown paper bag.  He goes "yah, why not?". Umm "because we're not interested in being date raped. Thanks".  We both just looked at each other with a "WTF was that" look. I mean props to the guy for having balls, but a brown paper bag? Come on now. We classy ladies.  Freebie FAIL. (also for those of you thinking "omg so scary"...trust me...it wasn't )

With that awkward and strange situation behind us we set off for the East Village and a secret speakeasy.  Too bad the "secret" speakeasy had a 2 hour wait. Typical New York.  Sooo plan B? Bar None. I knew it as an NYU college bar - somehow the fact that we're far removed from college didn't seem to weigh in on our decision to go there. We arrived and almost instantly decided "yep, we're the oldest people in here".   In our quest to get a drink Ayla got a beer bottle dropped on her foot - I told the baby faced kid he was a dick and he started apologizing profusely - clearly not from New York.  We went to the dance floor and then decided the bar was a much safer bet (I think it was the pelvic thrusting and gyrating that convinced us of this fact).  There was a group of guys at the bar who overheard me say it was Ayla's birthday, so I immediately took advantage of the opportunity to tell them to buy her a shot.  One of the kids (literally) told me he's a sophomore at USC and from Westchester (He lost me on both points).  Then asked "where do you go?"...."umm I don't 'go'".  He then proceeded to introduce us to his cousin and the following conversation ensued:

Cousin: "I'm 18!"
Me: "years old?!?"
"Hell yes!"
"Seriously?"
"yah!"
"So you graduated high school in May?"
"no! June!"

**he clearly doesn't understand the fine art of lying**

"ohhh k....you're a child"
"no! I play Lacrosse"

**oh holy hell**

Now anyone who knows me knows I love a good awkward situation. This seemed to qualify, hence, why I kept it going as long as I could before it became child endangerment.  At a certain point (after I'd made plenty of one-liner jabs) they go "ohhhh I get it, you're sarcastic". Quick, aren't they? They then informed me I was "hot, but condescending". I informed them that while they were mastering freshman biology I was fine tuning my sarcasm/condescending skills.  They looked perplexed. We looked bored. But then we hit the motherload. They. Called. Us. COUGARS. Let it soak in a minute. Mind you we told them Ayla was turning 23! (ok reality, 29, close enough though). She goes "I'm a cougar at 23?"....

Cab ride to the East Village: $15.00
Drinks: $12.00
Getting to meet the Class of 2012: Priceless

50 Shades...

Someone said they didn't like 50 Shades of Grey because it isn't indicative of real life. Here's a tip: don't buy books in the FICTION section.

How you know you're out of it

I just went to the bathroom and realized my underwear is on inside out. It's 3 pm. Took me all day to notice.

And then I didn't have the energy to take off my shoes and pants so I left em that way.

Classy through and through.

Tebow

I'm apparently the only person on the planet who didn't know Tim Tebow was a virgin. I knew he loved Jesus, but this, whoa. This is news (to me only though).

I once told friends I was going to start telling people I was a virgin. They told me I'd have an easier time convincing people I was black.

A Ginger's Best Friend

Black and White photos.

To all you gingers out there who are looking to online date, black and white photos NEED to become your profile picture. No question. It's a way to "be your true self" without ACTUALLY letting people SEE your "true self" aka: your ginger self.

Taste the Rainbow

Kristin Cavallari can be seen below appx 4 mths pregnant in a swimsuit:

 

Now please notice her PREGNANT backside:


That part where her butt meets her thigh is the part of my NON-pregnant body you could hide skittles under.

It really annoys me when pregnant people have better bodies than me.

Thank God for J. Simpson.

Pants are soooooo 2011

 

Liar Liar Pants On Fire

I do not understand all of these celebrities who "accidentally" get pregnant:

Uma Thurman
January Jones
Jessica Simpson
Kristin Cavallari
Jessica Alba (first time)
Nicole Richie (first time - ok in all fairness she was probably on drugs at the time)
Snookie (ok in all fairness, probably drunk)

They're all like "I have no idea how it happened".

Umm really? I mean I could probably break it down for you. I've always known how NOT to have a baby. In fact, it's a mantra I repeated to myself daily in college.

I get you can get pregnant while using birth control, but lets be serious here, that's not happening to ALL OF THEM. Kind of like how not EVERYONE can have a nose job that results in "sinus issues".  We've all seen the "Knocked Up". THAT'S how it happens.

Don't lie to me. I'm looking at you J. Simpson.

 

I don't see what the big deal is...

 

this is the best she's looked in the 27 months she's been pregnant.

Spotify

Spotify makes me feel the need to listen to "cool" music since it pops up on my facebook profile. And somehow everyone else is listening to "cool" music. Like really? No one wants to indulge in some Spice Girls? A lil 98 degrees?

I think today I'm going to listen to Vanilla Ice, NSync, annnnnnnd Nickleback.

Definitely Nickleback.

Vegas = Lunatics = My People

Sorry for my absence (please note I spelled absence wrong and spell check corrected to abstinence...not sure what kind of story they think I'm telling here, but that's for another post), but  I went to Las Vegas, shockingly it was my first time there. Well in full disclosure I went as a child, but not really funny when your mom has to shuttle you  from pay phone to pay phone on the casino floor calling time and temp just so the guards don't tell you and your child to get out (my dad was gambling, hence the shuttling).

I plan on posting several pictures from my time there, but for now I'll stick to one. This little gem:

I'm sorry it's blurry I was laughing hysterically, will post better photos. However, a man approximately 55 years old was dressed up as cupid and had on some sort of pink tight chaps. Upon seeing him I immediately did a little happy dance. My boyfriend's cousin and his girlfriend were with us, they said "you really like this sort of thing?".  I just stared at them. Umm like it? No no, I LOVE it. This shit makes me happy. In fact, I live for this shit. Bizarre people, wearing bizarre things, acting like lunatics, and not giving a fuck what people think? Yah, this is awesome.  I'd also wondered why I'd spent so much time on the strip where all you see are two bit hookers (the kind who accept money and the kind who aren't yet aware this is their lifes calling) wearing teeny tiny clothing with a muffin on top. Clearly downtown Las Vegas, Fremont Street, is where it's at.  

We stumbled upon the Heart Attack Grill (would have been much more thrilling to me if we hadn't already gotten one in Dallas), for those of you don't know it's a place to make the fat fatter and it rewards anyone weighing over 350 lbs with a free meal.  As we're all standing there in awe of such a place a man looks at us and says "I bet if we all got on the scale we'd be 350". Hmm..what to say. He then proceeds to tell us a story of how his son was a "fat ass" and how he used to tell his son he was a "fat ass". Clearly this man was inebriated, not as awesome as cupid chaps, but he'll do. He then goes "and THIS is his mama". We all look down to see a tiny woman with bleach blonde hair who make some sort of squeaky noise. Clearly she doesn't get to talk much. The man proceeds to talk about his "fat ass" son a few more moments. Boring. Over it. Where's cupid when you need him.

Above us people were ziplining and there was an electric light show (the street was "covered" by a half moon for several blocks) that if anyone dropped acid and went there would have the time of their life (perhaps this explains why cupid was there). 

There was also a man wearing a leopard unitard who did a robotic dance before squeezing himself into a box.  Get excited. 

Always good to know who your audience is....

This past weekend I had a FABULOUS girls night with college friends. In trying to decide what to do for the evening we settled on dancing............in the gayborhood (no one knows how to break it down like the gays).  Gay clubs are just the absolute best. Everyone dances, music videos are played, drinks are cheap (and strong), and best of all no men hit on you. When we arrived there was a line, we figured "oh we're cute girls we'll go right to the head of it!".....Fuck. Totally forgot boobs and vah-jay-jay get you no one where in this hood. So in the line we went.

As soon as we got in I heard Rihanna's "We Found Love" pumping through the walls. I nearly peed myself with excitement. When we get in I spot the dance floor, strob lights, men in cages wearing tiny leather g-strings, and men with no shirts - - - the mothership. I am home. (How come straight people don't have "shirt optional" clubs?)

We went to a drag show..I saw a man with better boobs than mine.  A man tells me "honey, he paid a lot of money to look like you".  I get what he was going for, it's almost sweet, but time to leave..... Time to get my dance on.

We make our way to the dance floor, they're playing music videos of  pop culture songs - remixed of course, complete with the trifecta: Britney, Gaga, and Madonna. It. Was. Awesome.

As we're jumping, hands in the air, shaking it I am approached by a woman who goes "Are you straight?". I hesistate, it's not that I'm unsure, more that I've never been asked this question before and am pondering what it feels like. Tip: Do. Not. Hesitate. She asks again, this time more firmly, followed quickly by "You must be straight, you're SO HOT. You're just SO hot." A few minutes later another girl approaches and I am asked the same thing. No more hesitation. She asks if she can dance with me and I tell her "thank you, but I'm with my friends". No problem. She just gets in the middle of us and starts dancing. I gotta hand it to her, girls got balls. Maybe she was hoping once I saw her moves I'd discover my inner lesbian.

It seems I'm a big hit with the ladies.......And here I always thought my audience was the gays....I'm really glad to discover I have a broader appeal.

Holding out hope

As if I'm not devastated enough over the demise of Heidi and Seal (fingers crossed for a reconciliation) VH1 decided to air a special on famous celebrity breakups. They reminded me of the breakup of Nick and Jessica.

               

Like pouring salt in a wound.

Look how happy they are.....and how thin she is.

KKTNY

Last night I watched the season finale of Kourtney and Kim Take New York. I'm pretty much disgusted with myself for even watching it. I swore off Kim K after she forced me into a 2 part 4 hour "Makings of a Circus" documentary, only to call off said circus 72 days later. However, my DVR picked it up and (obviously) I couldn't erase. So I got sucked in...to. the. entire. season. Gross I know, I am by no means proud. 

The finale focused on Kim's "gut wrenching" decision to want to end her marriage. Umm I'm pretty positive Kim and Kris didn't like each other - at all.  He likes working out and she likes fame. He likes Minnesota and she likes anywhere BUT Minnesota. He likes t-shirts and basketball shorts.  She likes skin tight Saudi Princess clothes. Oh and Kim is one ugly crier.  Hasn't this girl ever heard of waterproof mascara?

My favorite person on the whole show is Scott (trust me, I'm just as shocked as everyone else given how the Miami season went - yes I watched that too - did I mention I'm disgusted with myself?). He's funny, honest, and makes fun of himself.  I appreciate that fact. Especially when Kourtney is strolling NYC in 6 inch Louby's (NO ONE strolls NYC in 6 inch heels, not even Sarah Jessica Parker) and Kim is dressed up like she's Jasmine from Aladdin.

In an interview with Barbara Walters Kim said she used to think she'd have a lot of kids, but now she's thinking "maybe I'll just be an aunt". Given how she is a control freak, hates things out of order, loves cleanliness, hates clutter, needs to be the center of attention, and her 2+ hour morning makeup routine,  I'd say perhaps this is a good idea.

Bible.

IHop - the best form of birth control

This past weekend my dad and I went to the finest breakfast establishment ever built.....IHop.  Now for all you haters out there, knock it off. Quit trying to uphold some hoity toity "image". It's literally impossible not to like IHop. Never ending pancakes? Check. Nutella smeared crepes? Check. 4000 calorie stuffed french toast? Check. Latte served with whipped cream and chocolate chips? Double check.

And where else can you see all walks of life converging for one meal? The guy to my right was studying (ya, fuck you starbucks), the family diagnoal from me had 7 children (tied with the Gosselins, long way to go to the Duggars), and then there was the family where the woman kept putting whipped cream on her nose trying to get her husband to lick it off and instead it kept falling on her boob - which was being held up not by a bra, but by the table.

As I was eating my delectable granola pancakes (yes they have them - I'm sure they're covered in sugar - but I tried) and having an engaging political discussion with my father I look up and see a man holding his son/grandson/kid he kidnapped (who knows) and then it happened. Old faithful blew it's cap. Vomit starting running out of this kids mouth a river. It. Just. Kept. Coming. My face must have contorted into some awful expression because my dad goes "what the hell is wrong with you?". Silence. No words. The dad/grandfather/kidnapper proceeds to take the boy out of the restaurant. Vomit is straight up everywhere. Seat, table, floor. Nothing ruins a meal faster than vomit.

Next time I think I'll keep my eye on the table boob woman and her whipped cream...

True. Story

as they say...shit happens

In my quest for a Marisa Miller body (not in this lifetime) I try new fitness classes every so often. Yesterday it was spin. Now, I've taken 2 spin classes before and I wasn't very good (aka after 15 minutes I was bored/exhausted). However, this is a new studio in a fancy part of town and I figured "hey, why the hell not?".

I was supposed to go with one of my best friends but she sent me a text early on saying she got food poisoning and wasn't going to be able to make it. Ugg....my anxiety started to kick in about a) going some place I'd never been before and b) having no safety net in going with someone I know so thus having to walk in alone...and loserlike (at least in my head). I took some deep breaths, ate something and told myself I'd be OK.

On my way there I started to get more and more anxiety "would everyone stare at me when I walk in?", "what if I'm the last person there?", "what if everyone is way better than me and I look like the fat kid?", "what if I fall off the bike?". My stomach started churning..... and churning...and churning. By the time I got there I was pretty positive I was going to shit my pants. Yep. Positive. I walked in and no one was in the lobby. Shit (almost literally). The woman walks out and I go "where's your restroom?". She replies "oh it's in the very back, but let me get you to sign the waiver first". I sign. No fucking idea what I just signed. For all I know they're going to beat me in there and I won't even be able to walk again. Then she goes "Ok, now Mike (the teacher) will get you all set up on a bike". "I really need to go the bathroom first". She stares at me. Lady this is no joke. So I walk (ok, borderline run..kind of like trot) to the bathroom. It's. Not. Pretty.

I find my way to a bike (feeling severely dehydrated at this point) and just repeat the mantra "it's only an hour, you can do it..at least you look 5 pounds thinner". Mike explains to the class that there will be a giant projector showing where everyone's, but insists "it is not a competition, you're only competing against yourself".

Yah, suck it buddy, I'm racing all these bitches. So the race begins....err I mean the class. I manage to hold the lead for 20 minutes (knowing I can't sustain the pace). I hold 2nd place for a solid half hour. The last 10 minutes though a girl manages to catch up to me, I'm frantically pedaling...she's frantically pedaling....last sprint begins..I see her legs whirling and whirling, I feel dehydration setting in, but I'll be damned if I give up. Just as I feel the effect of my sudden loss of all the inner contents of my body, Mike calls it "DONE!"

I look up....bitch beat me by 8 points.

I ended up in 3rd - bronze medal. No one even remembers who wins bronze....

I blame poomageddon. Next time though...next time gold is mine.

Love. It.

I mean, doesn't everyone?

A few weeks ago we went to Six Flags Holiday in the Park with some friends. I LOVE LOVE LOVE rollercoasters (adrenaline junkie; case in point: went skydiving on Valentines day a few years ago - - strange combo? yah, not to me).  Well upon recapping our favorites that night my boyfriend and I settled on one called the "Titan". It's amazing, killer drop, huge knot in your stomach. It's awesome.

Well I made the comment that it's so weird when in the middle where it slows down I black out for a couple seconds. He goes "umm what do you mean?" I go "ya know, like I can't see anything ,everything goes black". And his voice escalates and he goes "that is NOT good!". Then I realize I said something wrong so I go "err, it's more like everything goes gray...yah...like a dark gray...greige".  He goes "seriously? This isn't good". Ummm...."Ya know I think it's more like misty white, yah like a dirty white...not even gray".  He just looks at me, so obviously I go where any normal person would go: brain tumor. (on top of being an adrenaline junkie, I'm irrational and....crazy).

I envision my upcoming months of chemo and what I'll look like without hair (not good, I have an oddly shaped head). My boyfriend snaps me back to reality when he says "you shouldn't do those rides anymore".

Umm are you fucking drunk? That's not happening? Who doesn't like a good black out every now and then?

                                

FAIL

Yesterday I had an entire conversation with camel toe. Not like see the lines of my vagina camel toe, more like "damn I wish I get get my pants out of my vagina" camel toe.

I have no fucking idea what the person was saying to me because ALL I wanted to do was do a little shimmy and pull my pants down a bit.

So that's a no right??

My very first night in my dorm room in college my 18 year old self and my roommate decided to go rent a movie at the video store right around the corner. We were super jazzed to have a rental place so close to campus.

We walked in a quickly realized this was no blockbuster. There was a black curtain towards the back. Whips hung from the walls. We'd never really heard of any of the titles.

Fuck, are we in a porn store? Yep.

The man goes, "Can I help you ladies?"

"Err, I take it you don't have Romy and Michele's High School Reunion?"

"Don't Cry for Me Argentina"

So I just got home from drinks with one of my best friends, Lindsay. We went to a wine place where the idea is to taste a bunch of wines, pick your fav, then buy a glass. We tried two, then decided it was cheaper to buy a bottle.

Earlier today she bought a FABULOUS and I mean seriously fabulous pair of shoes. So we found a couch, curled up with our bottle of wine and stared at her shoes (for what is probably considered a lunatic amount of time - whatever, they're fucking fabulous).

We soon realized there was a girl who had come to the wine bar with the waterworks fully turned on. She was full on crying at the table with her friend. Umm...inappropriate.  Now I am all for the wine + tears = self healing. However, PUBLIC PLACE is not included in that equation.  Girlfriend had her hand right above her eyebrow and her head cocked down, as if to hide herself. Umm yah I can see you. You look stupid. Stop crying in a public place. You want to cry at home while drinking wine and watching sex and the city - go for it. You want to cry and get wasted before going to a trashy bar looking for a guy who's only borderline heinous to sleep with for self medication - go for it.  You want to get dressed up, go to a fancy wine bar, and cry at a table next to my friend in her fabulous shoes -
DONT. FUCKING. DO. IT.

Lindsay says "what if her mother just died?".
"Umm and she went to a fucking wine bar to mourn? "