Baby’s First Hollywood Pool Party

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All my life, I’ve been the kind of person who clings tightly to her principles and convictions.

I am also the kind of person whose principles and convictions can be bought with blended margaritas and movie theater style nachos.

Do I consider myself a feminist? Absolutely. Will I speak up and defend myself or a fellow woman when I see a sexist injustice occurring? I believe it’s my duty. Am I so poor that I will throw all of this away so I can get my buzz on foh’ free at a Beverly Hills pool party? Within reason. But mostly yes.

The dissolution of my moral compass began when my roommate and I were invited to a pool party celebrating the birthday of Jesse from that Super Bowl GoDaddy commercial:

2349077637I’ve talked about it before, but if you’ll allow me to mount this high horse again, the commercial was sexist because it perpetuated the idea that women are supposed to be beautiful and men are supposed to be smart. Also it had a fat guy making out with a hot girl. What hope do us averages have of finding a man on our level if the media keeps telling boys and Kevin James that they are entitled to a woman who is 80% boobs and legs??

So, despite my reservations, I still wanted to go to the party because the poor kid was just in a GoDaddy commercial, not a Spike TV show. And I was promised free booze.

My friends and I arrived before Jesse got there, and after being handed a free(!!!) margarita, we were informed that they were filming a documentary on Jesse. The producer wanted a very specific shot of Jesse when he entered the party. He handed my girlfriends and me an armful Hawaiian leis and told us to go up to Jesse one-by-one and ask, “can I lei you?” Okay, so obviously this dude had no idea that this group of women included one who had read Hillary Rodham Clinton’s Living History. 

This request made me thoroughly uncomfortable, but it all happened so fast! I suddenly found myself doing an awkward Target Lady-esque shuffle, mumbled a “here you go” and threw the lei around his neck like I was doing a county fair horse shoe toss.

I felt like an idiot, but I just gave it to Jesus and prayed that if this documentary ever surfaced that my future moms Amy and Tina wouldn’t recognize me thanks to my giant mosquito sunglasses.

I drank another Jesse-rita and felt better.

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A few minutes later, the same guy asked if we would rub Jesse down with sunblock. To this I replied, “feminism!” and moon walked on my cork wedge heels back to the margarita bar. Listen, am I being a little over sensitive? Maybe. But there would never be a pool party thrown in honor of an overweight, 25 year-old woman just because she was in one popular  commercial. How about this? If any hot man reading can tell me he was once asked by a producer to rub down Nikki Blonsky with some SPF at a pool party put together by her publicist then I will just delete this post.

Anyway, as my blood blended with the Jesse-ritas, I realized what a surreal situation I had put myself in. I’m 90% sure that the house we were at is also rented out to shoot porn. I’m also 90% sure that most of the guests at the party have shot a porn in that house. Please don’t misunderstand, though, this was not a trashy party. It was an absolute who’s who of Hollywood extras. There were some big G-list stars too: the cook from 2 Broke Girls, the nerdy guy with the Jew-fro from Glee (I can say that because we have the same last name), and most exciting, Yolanda Foster’s ex-husband Mohamed.

I only ever left my spot on my beach chair to get more nachos or to go to the bathroom (if I looked a little harder I bet I would have found a cocaine dispenser next to the hand soap), but it was a real trip, and it was certainly worth going to.

Next stop, the Playboy Mansion!

Feminism!

Good Riddance, Summer

I could not be more pleased that Labor Day is behind us, taking Summer with it. See, I like Summer, but I love Fall. I get burned out on Summer because there’s too much pressure– to have fun, to have a fling, to be tan (which is a full time job for an alabastor princess such as myself). Autumn rolls around and it’s all hot cider and JCrew flannels. You trade in big summer BBQ’s with randos for hayrides with close friends. Or at least I assume people do that? I haven’t been on a hayride since I was in Girl Scouts and I’ve picked up a horse allergy in the meantime. I have an EPI pen, it’s a whole to do.

I think you can usually put someone in a Fall People or Summer People category. I’m a Fall person for many reasons. A primary and particularly weighty one is my birthday. November 1st is a clutch spot for a Fall birthday–you’re really in the thick of it, Autumnally speaking, and yet it’s a clean couple weeks before people really start stressing about holidays. The seasonal Starbucks cups haven’t even come out yet, which is the first sign of trouble.

Mom? Dad?

In addition to prime birthday real estate, I look great in hunter green, my hair is red, and my head is the size of a pumpkin, so I’m basically the personification of Fall. Speaking of pumpkins– I love ’em. I could talk to you all day about pumpkins. I enjoy a pumpkin of the beer, latte or scone variety. I even have a pumpkin Jack-o-Lantern mug in the back of my cupboard that no one is allowed to use or look at until the Halloween spirit has descended upon us in order to preserve its seasonal novelty and magic.Ah, yes. It’s finally time to dust off the mug, fill it with cider and butterscotch schnopps and watch Hocus Pocus while I sew a costume I’ll eventually give up on in favor of a $100 piece of polyester from the Halloween pop-up store in the mall.

Summer Check List: See a Concert

One day (I’d wager it’s probably at least two full presidential terms from now) on the eve of my wedding, I’m going to sit my fiance down and make him watch me dance and sing along to Gin Blossom’s ‘Hey Jealousy.’ I’ll know we’re meant to be if after 3 and a half minutes of that he’s still wants to spend the rest of his life with me–until his 20 year old mistress doth part us. It’s the perfect test because on Sunday I saw the Summerland tour with Sugar Ray, Gin Blossoms, Lit, Marcy Playground, and Everclear… and let’s just say I was a sight. I sang along to ‘My Own Worst Enemy’ like I was serving up some Say What? Karaoke realness on MTV’s Spring Break.

{Marcy Playground}

I thought it was a great concert, though we left early before Everclear performed because… I don’t know, it’s Everclear.

{Sugar Ray}

I actually can’t remember if I thought Mark Mcgrath was a hottie back in the day, but I tell you, when you see him live on stage… let’s just say he wore those white pants like Labor Day ain’t never gonna come!

 

Summer Bucket List: Red Sox Game

I completed the first thing off my Summer Bucket List, which was to go to a Red Sox game. I actually did this before I wrote the post, which is a lot like putting something on a to do list after you’ve done it just to cross something off, but I’ll take my productivity where ever I can get it.

This is me eating a hot dog:

{photo by Riley, @rileywaff on instagram}

 

I went to the game with some friends from college, and I don’t know if I’ve paid less attention to anything in my life- it’s up there with when I’d fall asleep in class and I’d look at my notes later and it just said orange 7 or 8 times diagonally across the page.

I was just there for a hot dog, an $8 Coors Light, and some Facebook pictures.

Kelley, Caroline, Riley, Me, Michelle…. that’s my “I haven’t fit into these jeans since 2008” face…. Just kidding, I wasn’t ready for this picture. But that is true about the jeans.