Opposites Attract
or: why karma is no bitch

by: caro

For those of you who are unfortunate enough to not know me in real life (undoubtedly you are readers that are from the future, after Lola & I become famous, reading the entries from the early days of peace, love & pearls...) you probably do not know about my financial irresponsibility from my collegiate days. Without going into deep (and shameful) detail, let's just say that while my peers were worshiping at the throne of Carrier Library & the Showker Computer Lab, I spent my days, and nights, and basically every waking minute worshiping at the throne of shoes, handbags, and Greek Letter t-shirts.

Fast forward 18 months from graduation. I meet Mr. Wonderful, the last remaining thing on the planet known as a "good man," in my opinion (be it ever so humble). So many things about Mr. Wonderful contradict my life and how I had lived it, that I have honestly begun finding humor in these contradictions.

Contradiction #1: my older sister is a CPA. I made fun of her for years for being an accountant. I told her for every gift giving holiday that "I'm sorry I cannot afford a TI-83 for you, this necklace [magic bullet, gift certificate, shirt] will have to do in the meantime." I scoffed at her for dating other accountant types, constantly informing her that accountants are "lame" and "what do you talk about? how much your fingers hurt from crunching numbers all day long?" So, it only makes sense that Mr. Wonderful is not only an accountant, but works for one of those fancy big 4 or 5 (hey I'm a party planner, I can't keep track of which accounting firms are performing acts of insider trading and pilfering money from their clients or whatever, thereby being shut down and shamed in "the industry") downtown. Life will ALWAYS come back to knock you flat on your ass. However, instead of making fun of the big sister, now I just make fun of him.

Contradiction #2: Mr. Wonderful is slightly (adorably) dorky. And I can put this in a public post because I tell him this on a daily basis. It is said with all the love and adoration in the world (and a little known secret I will make public-I love a dork!) and he knows I don't mean it in a put down sort of way. Quite the opposite. Anyways, Mr. Wonderful lives for his spreadsheets and databases. Nary a weekend goes by that I don't say, "Mr. Wonderful, what are you doing this afternoon?" to which he replies "working on the computer," which is code for 'updating my 25 sheet workbook in excel of my various investments and putting in the movies and concerts we have seen recently into the database of concerts and movies." God love him. When it comes to me working on the computer its more like "Sift through google reader, lust over the latest collection at J. Crew, see when the Jen Lancaster book tour is stopping in Chicago [May 6th!!], and drool over the latest Williams-Sonoma gadgets."

I guess its true what "they" say. Opposites really do attract. Because Mr. Wonderful has been saving pennies for two things since he was 16 (and he'll be 28 next month...) 1-down payment on a house 2-my 2 carat asscher cut engagement ring. Good thing he started at 16, that's all I'll say about that. He invests constantly in his 401(k) and has a variety of other accounts that pull random (but i'm SURE meaningful) letters from the alphabet like an IRA and god only knows what else. Me? I consider it a blessing to not get charged from my savings account for "excessive withdraws" and I really get nervous thinking of putting into an account that I literally cannot touch. No thank you Mr. IRA I like my money right where I can see it (whether that's hanging in my closet ala Carrie Bradshaw, or where I can view it easily from my shiny laptop). So, the way I see it, we have two very individual responsibilities in the relationship. He is responsible for keeping us in the black. I am responsible for keeping us well dressed. And those are gender roles I will gladly accept.

The Real (read: FAKE) Housewives of New York City

or, why I am addicted to the trashiest reality show on television today

by: caro

Please, loyal reader(s) forgive me, for not blogging for 3 days. It is three-fold, really, the reason behind this. First of all, because Lola has left me temporarily, for a different continent, I have no one reminding me to blog, also, because of the different time zone, we don't get to g-chat and therefore are lacking the witty repartee that tends to lead to blog topics. Finally, we have decided to try to keep this from turning into a full on bitch-fest, and the last three or four days have been less than desirable, so I needed to take a break before I brought you all down with me.

So, that being said, I will blog about my newest (and dearest) guilty pleasure. This is known to me, as television cocaine, but to the commoner, as "The Real Housewives of New York City." Now, the primary reason I am obsessed with this show is because of the blatant over-the-top-ness of these insane women. That, and the fact that most of them all have accents straight out of Long Island or the dirty Jerz. Though this may or may not be a regular thing, I believe I will base tonight's blog on my tearing apart of LuAnn-I mean, Mrs. deLesseps. Stop the presses, that is COUNTESS deLesseps to you, commoner. I will say this about that, she is probably the classiest, prettiest, best poised of the tramps on this show, that being said, she is still a bitch.

In tonight's episode, we see Bethenny, the only non-housewife of the show (does she even belong?) introducing LuAnn to her (Bethenny) driver by her first name. The Countess has to school Bethenny on proper introduction etiquette, and who exactly does not have to refer to her as "Mrs." It all seemed very complex...and fake. I guess this is something I may never understand, because Mr. Wonderful happens to, unfortunately, not be a Count...and my dreams of being royalty, let alone a princess, have been crushed.

Luckily for all of us, Bethenny learned how to properly introduce the Countess to Jill's maid as Mrs. deLessep, erego, saving the upper east side from a royal-murder on their hands, and one hell of a mess for that poor indentured servant to clean up. Thank the good lord for that.

In case you haven't yet, tune into this show. It is addictive, much on the same level as diet coke, endorphins, warm chocolate chip cookies, and alcoh...I mean...milk.

Fixing the World, One Analogy at a Time

by caro

It did not take either of us long to realize that we are stellar analogy makers, and can typically brighten up any rainy day with a well structured analogy to help put it all into perspective. This all started the summer between sophomore and junior year when my life seemed to come to a screeching halt (in retrospect? Definitely the best thing that could have ever happened to me, but I digress).

The scene: Stairwell of Lola’s luxury ($375 a month, but actually still luxury) apartment. 10:00pm-ish. Lola in her pajamas. Me in the same clothes I’ve had on for two or three days, mainlining Absolut because my boyfriend and I had just broken up (there is still a question of who did the breaking, but I believe I won when I told him not to let the door hit him in his ass on the way out, and he called me a dumb bitch, and I smacked him, in my driveway, with children watching, and told him if he ever talked to me that way again I would tell his mother that he cheated on me with that hussy. Official score: Caro-1,000,000 the ex-0). I never thought that life would go on, that anyone else would ever love me again, I would never find anyone else in this world, and that the pain would never end.

Enter the first of many analogies that would begin to solve life’s problems. That’s when Lola, in her all knowing wisdom, explained to me that a break-up is like a scab. Yes, a scab. First, you have to fall, and bleed and hurt and cry and whine. A lot. And then it scabs over. And sometimes we put Neosporin on these cuts (or, in my case, Absolut with no mixer, no chaser). And the scab starts to heal, over time. Occasionally you may bump into a table, and that might really hurt the scab, or even in bad cases re-open the scab (like when you find out that he proposed to the girl he cheated on you with. Oh wait, if you’re going to lose in the semi-finals, may as well lose to the team that wins the championship…that’s my one and only sports analogy you will ever hear). But ultimately, the scab will heal. And sometimes there will be no reminders of the original fall. And sometimes there will be scars, and occasionally you will glance at the scar and remember the massive fall you took, and the time it took to heal, but you will remember that it did heal, after all. And you will eventually take up the activity that led to the initial fall. Maybe next time you won’t fall, and maybe you will. But with good friends, good family (and good booze!) you will always heal.

Why Corporation is really just a synonym for Sorority….

(Or why my life hasn’t drastically changed since graduation)

By:Lola

I spent 4 years in a Sorority (the best and drunkest 4 years of my life). I have spent 2 years in Corporate America (the longest and most challenging 2 years of my life). While driving home today (taking 1 hour to go 11 miles…Thank you DC traffic), I had an epiphany . I realize that my company is a carbon copy of my sorority. Here is what I realized:

1. Clique is not just a word your mother warned you about: Yes, that fateful word that carries so much negativity in describing groups of women. While the word has been swirled around in our brains since the days of middle school, cliques are a major component of both the Greek life and the Corporate life. I have decided that there are three main cliques in both organizations. While there could be many sub-cliques of each clique, each sub-clique will actually roll up into one of the following: Those with power, those who like to have fun, and those who grasp to rules like it’s the last ½ price J-crew flip flop of the season. First, those with power. This is the group of girls in a sorority that holds the positions and in corporate America it is the group of women who are the managers and VPs. These women make decisions that affect the entire group determining such things as work load, seating arrangements, and overall atmosphere of the environment. These women know they have power and are not afraid to use it. Membership in this group is only obtained when your name is followed by a title, i.e. Lola, VP of the Masses. The next group is the girls who spend more energy in having fun then planning the takeover of the organization. These girls are most likely to send out the email about the mixer/happy hour, plan sorority/department fun days and overall remind people that life isn’t about who has the best title when you reach the grave. The last groups of people are those who embrace the rules. In Sorority land these are the girls who enforce the No hazing rules, no underage drinking rules (or attempt to), and so forth. While this group might not sound fun, it is vital in the Sorority to keep the “fun” clique in balance. In the work environment, this is the group who has corporate policies memorized, usually work until the wee hours of the morning and return to their cubicles at exactly 00:59 into their lunch hour. Hopefully there are equal numbers in your sorority/department to keep things balanced.
2. The “We work harder and are more vital to the success of this organization” Mantra. It doesn’t stop at graduation girls. In my personal experience, each “dept” of a sorority feels it is the most important part of keeping the Sorority successful and running. The social team demands the most money for mixers, because after all, we are a social sorority. The Philanthropy team demands the most time for community service because after all we are based on the values of service, and the Recruitment team demands the most attention because after all, the only way to keep a sorority going is to have new members. The same can be said in Corporate America. The Marketing department demands the most money, because hey, without marketing, we won’t have customers. The IT department demands the most time, because hey, if you get a virus and shut down the entire mother board of the company we’re all screwed, and the Finance department demands the most sympathy, because hey, we’re here calculating the numbers to see if all that marketing and virus protection are paying off and we’re doing it until the wee hours of the morning. Each group feels they are highly superior and more important than the others. After all, they are the reason the sorority/corporation succeeds.
3. Happy Hour is just another name for mixer. Mixers were quite possibly the highlight of my week while a member of a sorority. No matter what drama was going on or how many tests I had that week, I knew two constants would be waiting for me come Friday: Jungle Juice and Frat boys. Happy hours are the Big Girl World equivalent of mixers. Happy hour’s sole goal is to have employees drink their sorrows away, complain about their bosses and potentially partake in activities with coworker that will result in awkward meets and greets in hallways. The directions for Happy Hours and Mixers are the same. Drink. Mingle. Hookup. Repeat.
4. Dress for Success. The way a person dresses is the single most used factor in passing judgment in a Sorority and a Corporation. It is called the superficiality factor. If you are not dressed to meet the standards of the organization, then you have little to no chance to succeed. Wear overalls or jean on jean to a recruitment event, you will be guaranteed a spot in the closet counting votes. Wear sweats to your job (or Sorority for that matter) and not only will your next promotion be in the year 3000 you might be called into your boss’s office for a chat about professionalism. However, if you show up in the cutest Lilly Pulitzer dress with J-crew flip flops and pearls and you are on the fast track to President of the Sorority and the Corporation (guaranteed).

Sidenote: The only redeemable quality I have yet to find in my boss is the fact that she wears pearls every day.

5. If you forget what Organization you belong to…Just look down. It was a vital part of the week in Greek Life (well Monday-Thursday that is). Letter day. The day during the week (Wednesday for us) where all Sorority girls were asked to put on their best pair of letters to show the world where they belonged. You were to show off with pride those letters you had worked so hard to earn during pledging. The same applies in Corporate America. Fridays are the days when Corporate America asks their employees to wear their company polo or golf shirt to work. In exchange for this, you might be permitted to wear jeans.

The only difference between the Corporate world and Sorority life is that you are not rewarded for the ability to do a 1 min keg stand or for being undefeated in beer pong against said Fraternity that past weekend. Oh and that whole pay check thing.