“If a guy doesn’t call you, he doesn’t want to call you”

Breakups – we just don’t know how to deal, do we?

I am a female with a slew of female friends and I have seen more breakups than I care to remember. Not to out myself and all of my acquaintances in a stereotyped box, but we have all dealt with these heartbreaks in pretty much the same fashion.

Like crazy people.

Something about breakups really brings out the crazy. I’m not talking padded-room-crazy, I’m talking shrines-in-the-closet and egging-your-house crazy. Now this crazy may fade with time, but it never truly disappears.  You remember that breakup in high school. Yea, the one where you were the one who ended it, but then you had to watch your ex date your rival… let crazy commence. Five YEARS later you see them in your hometown bar looking taller than you remember sipping on some microbrew, and you feel the crazy bubbling to the surface (somehow the microbrew ended up all over his faded button-up?).

Cue: “He’s Just Not That Into You”.

I don’t LOVE all chick flicks blindly, and I don’t even love HJNTIY I just think the movie has a valid point. Maybe a little harsh for our token romantics (dummies), but still valid. In the movie Ginnifer Goodwin [love her!] notes in the beginning that we are programmed to just assume that all guys like us. Our brains are practically ingrained to expect guys who act aloof, indifferent, and even mean actually like us. HOW ASS BACKWARDS IS THAT?! After that warped logic we expect ourselves to deal with breakups like a rational human being. Obviously, that is impossible. We take rational, and we turn it crazy.

Normal tips on coping with a break up, and how we interpret it [see: crazytown]

1. A new hairstyleHow we make it crazy: We do something so drastic, it looks very Britney.

2. See someone new. How we make it crazy: They are friends with our ex.

3. Sleep In! How we make it crazy: We stay in bed for days, develop bed sores, and start a
kitchen between the sheets.

4. Get dressed up and go out! How we make it crazy: We borrow outfits from a stripper and go home with the townie carrying a guitar. Not in a cute way. In a homeless way.

5. Use your phones to reconnect! How we make it crazy: We erase the ex’s phone number, go out, and then call them later anyways. Obviously the number is committed to memory.

6. Meet up with old friends! How we make it crazy: We meet up with people who are friends with the ex in an attempt to complete a “coincidental encounter”, only to ignore them and laugh REALLY REALLY LOUD.

7. Go about your normal everyday routine. How we make it crazy: we stalk. We facebook stalk, old-stomping grounds stalk, we stalk through family members, we stalk through friends….it really is unhealthy.

8. Remind yourself why you and your ex were not a right fit! How we make it crazy: Time-induced memory loss. We forget over time [see:3 days] all of the shitty things about our ex, and we begin to only remember that ONE TIME we found flowers on our step that you claimed to have bought [although they looked remarkably like the flowers planted in the apartment complex…]

9. Distract yourself! How we make it crazy: Two words, CHICK FLICKS. We LOVE to pop in a good movie, and get our sob on. Instead of watching normal movies, we go to the video store in our pajamas with ice cream matting our hair and rent The Notebook, PS I Love You, Titanic, A Walk to Remember, and The Time Travelers Wife. We then convince ourselves that if two people separated by society, two people separated by DEATH, two people separated by a MONUMENTAL ACCIDENT, two people separated by LUKEMIA, and two people separated by TIME can all make it, than so can you and your douchey ex. SOUND LOGIC.

Fellow crazies, it’s time to get real.

If someone doesn’t want to be with you, then why in the WORLD would you want to be with them?! We need to get selfish. I MEAN IT! We need to start caring more about ourselves than our breakups, or our exs. We need to hold realistic breakup movies on a pedestal like Lars and The Real Girl and Forgetting Sarah Marshall [hint: they all move on]. We need to let them go, and move on with our lives. Get a haircut because you have split ends, wake up early and go outside instead of sleeping in, focus on the future not the past!

And stop being crazy.
[My name is Avalon and its been 15 days since I’ve been crazy. We’re all a work in progress]

What is my life?

Hello Mis Amigos,

It has been a few days since we posted, so here I am writing to ya’ll, ultimately being the better blogger.

[did you hear that TARYN?]

So this past weekend was Halloween…but who cares because THE WEIRDEST THING JUST HAPPENED TO ME AT WORK. I have so many hilarious work stories, I feel like I should write a book (or a blog?). I have worked in a couple of places, and nowhere is ever normal. Maybe I just attract the weird?

When I was 16 I worked at a fancy shmancy (oh you fancy huh?) restaurant near my hometown. The owners secretly hated me and I secretly had a crush on everyone who worked in there. [I WAS 16 AND HORMONAL OK??] Regardless, there was one couple who would come in once a week, every holiday, and every other reason to eat food. The husband was the architect who designed the restaurant, and the wife was a bitch. You heard me. When they were eating there, women weren’t allowed to approach the table for any reason. It was my job to fill people up with water and drinks along with keeping bread and expensive olives on their table, and this lady prevented me from doing my job. And was clearly crazy, because her husband was NOT A CATCH.

When I was 18 I worked at Victoria’s Secret. Yes, I will hold while you all laugh at me. It was AWFUL. My boss was a heinous human being, and I was the only one who worked there who could do math (and that is sad, because I am so bad at math). Given my natural skills I was put on register every day I worked. I was forced to ask for phone numbers when I checked people out, so Victoria’s Secret could infiltrate yet another facet of their lives. Men buying lingerie for their significant others would always act like I was asking for their phone numbers, and would ask if I would be calling them later. “Yes! How did you KNOW I love trashy guys who pick up girls in lingerie stores while they are shopping for another girl’s unmentionables”.  (One time, a guy told me I looked like the same size as his girlfriend, and asked me to model some stuff for him. Oh okay, let me get on that Creepy McCreepy pants).

When I was 18.5 I worked at an Inn and literally everything about it was weird. We dealt with drunk people, prostitutes, millionaires, Black Cards, annoying coworkers…you name it. This was a classy establishment people, and the classier you get, the more messed up things get. It is hard to pinpoint what the weirdest thing that happened there was. One time a group of guys attending alumni weekend FROM NINETY SEVEN asked me to get drinks with them when I got off work. Oh sure, I’ll meet you there in 2 years. One of our crazier customers was an older woman who lived in the area. She would come in, pay with cash, and take HANDFULS of our free cookies. She washed her clothes in the sink, and rubbed olive oil from the restaurant all over her body. In the restaurant. I wish I was kidding.

When I was 20 I lived on Martha’s Vineyard for the summer with some friends. We all got jobs, and worked full time. I worked at a little boutique that sold clothing and jewelry. My boss was HILARIOUS to say the least. He would make me take shots with him before he let me go home some nights. Still not 21 folks.

When I was 21 (22?) I started working at the computer store I work at now. I have a million weird stories (like the guy stationed in Afghanistan asking me the best websites to watch porn on without getting a virus) but I began this post with one in mind. Today (reason for the post) a guy came whirlwinding into the shop. He was heavy set, balding, wearing a wind breaker and glasses. He looked like your average 40 something white middle class american man. He turned out to be C-R-A-Z-Y. Dialogue as follows:

“HI! I am really in the market for a used tower. I will be frank with you, I’ve been unemployed since February, so economy is important”.

“Surree…Well there is a custom built tower right there that only costs 299 plus tax”.

“Well I don’t really do anything on the computer besides check a few sites and email one person. Except I probably won’t be emailing that person anymore. Want to know why?’


“Let me give you a hint. Don’t get involved with a 24 year old when you are 44 years old (how is that a hint?). I mean, I proposed to her! And I’m married!”


“Anyway, is there any way you can bring this price down for me at all?”

“Well…seeing as how you are unemployed we could probably take…”

“MONEY is not an issue. I have one point six in the bank. $1.6 million dollars. And that’s not bull shit.”

“Didn’t you just say…”

“It helps to be the last one standing in the company. I’ve been to seven funerals this year.”


Then he left. WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!

Someday I will have a normal job.


How do we get down from here?

Now as my partner in crime so gracefully put it, we are in fact the two best friends that anyone could have. Although the song is THREE best friends, our bond is so vast and strong it cannot be contained in only two forms. If I am going for jokes here, our friendship needs its own area code. Heyyyooo! Hopefully you catch my drift.  If you don’t, then appease me and laugh. And keep reading.  So for MY first post I decided to share our best friend awesomeness and give everyone a taste of our everyday life…..buckle up.

So. Avsy and I are constantly complaining talking. Wake up, we text. Get to work, we g chat. Leave work, we text. And then there’s the times where we desperately need to talk. Voice to voice communication…text just doesn’t get the job done.

ANYWAY. 9 times out of 10 the first thing that is brought up is a problem (or a crisis, cause we’re extreme like that). This is when Av and I (mainly her) created the metaphor, “The Crazy Tree”. Whatever the problem may be, (Avalon didn’t get enough at amateur night-ps last stripper joke),  we have to “talk each other down”. As in, get each other out of the tree that is consumed with CRAZY.

To make this metaphor even more interesting/absurd, every time a new problem comes along we add to the “tree”. Last we checked (yesterday), we have a house. Complete with a couch and curtains. It is quite cozy in the crazy tree, and sometimes I/we live there. Initially we can be talked down. However, like many things in life, problems resurface. Don’t ask Avalon how many times I’ve had to be talked out of the tree based on the dumbest things (boys). Seriously. Don’t ask. But without fail Avsy-Poo, being the bestest friend ever, notices I have been too comfortable in the tree (ie the new tupperware set I bought. Every house needs storage!) and comes to my rescue and talks me down.

Luckily we built a ladder.