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Post 6: Skin Cancer – It’s pretty much a bad time.

Since it’s summertime, I figured I’d talk about a problem that is plaguing millions of Americans: being pale in a bathing suit.

Don’t be afraid; you’re not alone. I mean, I’m not with you. I’m tan. But like, there are lots of people just like you. Just look around your local beach. You’ll see what I mean.

Not a good look.

Usually people attempt to remedy this condition with lots of fake baking or by just frying themselves in the sun for hours at a time using little to no sunscreen. This is no bueno.

I’ve been there. Since I’m Italian, I usually don’t need a very high SPF to keep my skin from burning. However, that’s only the case in Southern California. I found this out the hard way during a vacation in the Caribbean. A combination of stupidity and SPF 4 crushed my dreams of becoming a bronzed Bahamian and instead transformed me into the human equivalent of a sun-dried tomato. Apparently the sun gets stronger the closer you are to the equator. Who knew? (Everyone. Everyone knows.).

Thankfully, the good Samaritans at Ocean Potion know there are morons just like me around the world, and capitalized on our lack of geographical/solar/dermatological knowledge.

"Burn Relief ICE" (Read: "You're hurting and you need me")

I should have written Ocean Potion a freakin love letter (much like the one I did to Starbucks) for how much they saved me. I used an entire bottle of aloe the first night of that trip. Never again will I wear anything less than SPF 30 south of San Diego. Learn from my mistake.

Then there’s spray tanning. I’m not really a fan, which may be because I accidentally let my friend spray tan me into racial ambiguity.

She needed to learn how to spray tan for her new job at a salon, so I volunteered to be the guinea pig (as I type this I now realize how this was all my fault). I figured her boss would show her how to use the machine and then I’d get to leave, a little more bronzed than I was when I came in. Four coats later, I looked like this:

This bikini really doesn't flatter my skin tone

But… I’m not kidding.

It was so embarrassing that I basically sprinted to the nearest shower and scrubbed my skin raw. Alas, despite my best efforts, I still kind of looked like Snooki (less pregnant though).

Let’s be honest: there are more bad spray tans than there are good ones. So if this is your method of ameliorating a pale situation, choose wisely and potentially don’t let someone who has never spray-tanned anyone use your body as a practice run.

However, the main reason why I want to talk about tanning is to nag the crap out of you more serious: skin cancer.

I love the sun. Although melanoma runs in my family, I decided at an early age that I was supposed to be born a mermaid and God made a mistake, so I spend the majority of my free time at the beach and in the ocean. This doesn’t really lend itself to protecting your skin from UV rays.

The difference between sun-kissed and death-sentence is all in how you protect yourself. You can get tan with sunscreen, it’ll just take longer. Patience.

SPF is going to be the difference between this:

Look how beautiful I am!

and this:

RUN FOR YOUR LIFE, CHILD!

  

Since I’ve inadvertently fried my skin a time or two, I knew I had to be extra cautious, so I started getting full-body screenings with my dermatologist. Highly recommended.

Anyway, this is my little PSA of the day. Being pale is a plight on society, but dying from skin cancer is probably worse. Lather up.

Post 5: iStarbucks

**Apologizing in advance for my overuse of parenthetical statements. I don’t plan on editing them out. Sorry I’m not sorry.**

I’m trying to avoid any more drug references on this blog (don’t want people to get the wrong idea, here), but there are a few things to which I am completely addicted. With my limited scope of knowledge (which should be taken as ultimate authority on every subject), I have decided to share my opinions on a subject that combines two of my vices: Starbucks and iPhones.

It’s a glorious fusion of everything that is good in the world. Okay, I overshot that one. Not everything. But two wonderful things.

Aside - I’m not one of those hipster coffee consumers nor do I have any kind of refined palate in the coffee spectrum, so if you’re a regular at Intelligentsia or some kind of trendy shit like that, and are planning on being all judgmental about S-Bux, you can stop reading now. I mean that in the kindest way possible. I’m doing us both a favor.

Anyway. I’ve had a cell phone since the age of nine (I figured you all have formed an opinion about me at this point so I’m just gonna say things and not worry about justifying them. YOLO?). In fact, my first cell phone didn’t even have texting capabilities. Stone age status. It had an antenna. Remember antennas? Lol. I don’t even know what I did with that thing. Made calls? Weird. I don’t wana think about it.

this was my first phone. it doesn't even have a color screen. so retro.

Then along came texting, bummer for my parents (yay, Verizon!), and then the game changer: smart phones. It wasn’t long (actually, it was long… boo Verizon) till I got the iPhone. This little Jobsy gem changed the way I use technology.

whoops. forgot about the whole 'no drug' thing.

My friends are haters – they make fun of me all the time for my iPhone usage. Like, sorry you haven’t figured out how to use yours yet. Not my problem.

I’ve been propositioned on multiple occasions to have my iPhone surgically affixed to my person. I mean, it’s practically an appendage at this point. I just haven’t really gotten into the trend of cosmetic surgery (yet).

Onto Starbucks (and then I’ll explain the relation).

But actually.

I have an unparalleled love for The Bucks. Not only do they have the absolute BEST company logo of all time (a MERMAID) but they have such a rad brand experience. I don’t know why I care about this, but I do. Go with it. I could go to a Starbucks in France (I did, once) and know that I’m going to get the same experience (except pay like five times more and in Euros). It’s that continuity and dependability that I appreciate.

I don’t mind paying a 400% markup for coffee at the place that invented the Mocha Coconut Frappuccino. I also waited in a one-hour line (Frappy Hour) for said Frappuccino. Dedication or insanity? You decide. I’ll keep living it.

On that note, let’s take a second to discuss the blessing that is an MCF. 

get. at. me.

Remember my post about Samoas? How they taste like a miracle? It’s kind of like that, in ice-blended form. Or like a blended Almond Joy. It’s unreal. It tastes like a vacation is happening in your mouth. If you’re in the same boat (wishing it was an actual boat) as me and are not on vacation, this is really exciting.

kind of like this.

Mouthcation. It's a lifestyle (for poor people).

To be honest, I don’t even like coffee that much. I do however, like when it’s hidden under layers of delicious coconut flavor. But the coffee I could do without.

There are so many other parts of Starbucks I love that keep me going back: Tazo Iced Chai, Coconut Fraps in summer, Pumpkin Spice in the fall, Cranberry Bliss Bars around Christmas… little seasonal things to look forward to.

Now that I feel like I’ve written a love letter to an inanimate object (only a little embarrassed), I’ll pump the brakes and get to the point.

THE STARBUCKS APP.

I know this is nothing new but lots of people still don’t know about it. YOU NEED TO KNOW.

I have serious ADD (if you couldn’t already tell), so usually when I try to come up with a concept, I have SO many ideas that everything gets confusing and it doesn’t work out.

Starbucks worked it out.

The app streamlined everything Starbucks-oriented that is convenient to a customer. It is one of the most versatile and well thought out apps I’ve come across, and I was confused as to why the rating was so low in the app store.

With a bit of investigation, I noticed that the bulk of the low ratings came from people who were frustrated with a glitch (that Bux fixed within a day or two) and the occasional crash. Are you kidding me people? All apps crash occasionally. It happens. Have you TRIED the Facebook app? That thing crashes every time you blink. Take 2.7 seconds and reopen it. It’s not that hard.

The best feature on the app is the ability to manage and use your Starbucks money/gift card from your phone. If you have a registered gift card and have yet to download this app, this is going to be life changing (did I mention it's FREE?). Try to control your excitement.

Register your card then enter your info into the app. It immediately brings up your balance and knows your rewards level. You can save your credit card information if you so choose (to forever indebt yourself to a mega corporation). I did. I’m not sure yet if that was a good or bad decision. I guess I’ll find out.

So much convenience.

Within 30 seconds I can check the balance on my card, reload my card (sorry, Mom), and pay… USING MY PHONE. Literally, all on one screen. Boner. I haven’t brought my wallet into a Starbucks in the past month. I feel like a Jetson. They just scan the screen of your phone and it goes directly to your account.

You can find the closest Starbucks to you and it will show you how to get there. What’s more, is if you’re like me and dress like a homeless person on most days of the week and don’t want to be seen by normal people, you can find the closest drive through. Hence, feeding your addiction without the effort of actually putting on real clothes and brushing your hair. Brilliance.

If you live in Japan, this might not be a necessary function. You probably live next to, above, or in a Starbucks.

seriously though.

Then there’s the drink-maker feature with the nutrition guide – if you’re actually concerned with caloric consumption (then you probably don't go to Starbucks often) you can see what’s in your favorite drinks, and maybe consider some alternatives once you realize what you’ve been mindlessly ingesting. If you’re into the whole ignorance is bliss (fat) thing (trust me, I’m with you), you may want to avoid this facet of the app. 

No worries. Britney doesn't use the calorie counter either.

Regardless of my brand allegiance, this app is really well thought out. It's everything I could have asked for from Starbs (read: they capitalized on my affinity for technology). They did a fantastic job and completely simplified my life as a consumer, which, let’s be honest, was already pretty simple. So kudos to them.  I feel super trendy and techy every time I go to get an MCF or iced tea. It's phenomenal. You’re welcome.

Things That Made Me Laugh This Week

Below is a small collection of things that made my week. A combination of senioritis, procrastination and an extended battery on my laptop resulted in a treasure trove of laughs. I couldn't keep them to myself.

Here are some things that warrant global recognition:


1) The BERKS meme.

It's just brilliant. The "berks" meme (read: books) took me a minute and a couple reads out loud to understand. However, this is one joke that absolutely is worth working for, because once you get it, you'll be crying laughing. I may or may not have developed some ab muscles in the process. RERRDING RENBURRRR!!!!!!

Check the rest of the berks here.

2) This kid:

Hey kid, sweet trophy bro. Also, your shirt really compliments your mullet.

 Buzzfeed has a collection of other cool people here.

3) This dog:

I don't know why, but I can't help it. Every time I look at this I completely lose it. It's too perfect. I wish that was my dog. I wish I was there to witness this. I wish I knew how to accurately pronounce the triple caption.

4) #coachellapeople

Funny or Die is one of God's gifts to society, and this article is genius. "If your child leaves the house on Friday morning, Indio bound with nothing but a neon bathing suit and some glow sticks, tell them they’re grounded forever." 

Gunning for second place in hilarity is all the people who were offended by the article and commented below. Personal favorite: 

LOL

People who get offended by jokes are almost as funny as the jokes themselves.

5) Mackelmore & Ryan Lewis

It took me WAY too long to actually discover this video. I liked the song, but the video exponentially increases the comedic factor. I plan to recreate something like this in the near future. At the very least I'll find myself a gold unitard. Get excited.

Post 4: Sororities

As if I didn’t give you enough reasons to judge me, let’s just keep the ball rolling and go for broke: I’m in a sorority.

Get on my level real quick:

For many reasons, one being that they filmed this movie at my school, I find very little difference between the life of Elle Woods and my college experience – except she is at law school, which I want nothing to do with. I also hate Chihuahuas. 

No.

For the purpose of the post, we’re going to focus on the sorority aspect.

I’m pretty sure they modeled Legally Blonde after USC sororities, so this is a great visual example to give you further insight as well as further deteriorate my integrity as an intelligent human being.

Despite the clearly hyperbolic stereotypes, the film does a pretty good job depicting life in a sorority house. Something that LB doesn’t cover, however, is one of the most crucial aspects: Sorority Rush.

Without giving away any secrets, I will tell you that participating in rush (both as a rushee and as an active member) is the single event in my life that has pushed me to the edge of aneurysm (go ahead, judge me)... Except I kind of liked it.

Imagine 100-150 girls screaming some kind of song in your face while doing this:

   

But actually.

After abrasively “greeting” you with “songs” screamed at a decibel level comparable to a Boeing engine, they invite you inside so you can talk to a few sisters on a more intimate level. You’ll have some deep conversation like, "what’s your major? What dorm do you live in? On a scale of one to Prada backpack, how much do you love fro-yo?"

And try that 10 times, back to back.

It's kind of like going through a high-stress interview process 100 times in a row. And when you're on the active member side, there are more rules for this process than ever imagined possible - who would have thought up guidelines on how you garnish a glass of water?? I know who. Panhellenic.

There is a rule in sorority recruitment that both of your feet can not leave the ground at once. Yes I'm serious. There's also a rule that if a rushee leaves your chapter house with a napkin, the napkin is considered a gift, and your chapter is fined. Super realistic. "Hey, we really like you, so here have this dirty napkin." Tooootal gift.

Amongst this slew of heinous rules, you manage to get through all your "parties" and whittle the number of girls down to about 60 to form your chapter's new pledge class.

Then the girls go wild. Not that way, you creep. Imagine this: 600 young, eager, overzealous college girls. Give them the bid from a sorority, and then tell them to run to their new chapter. ALL AT ONCE. It's like putting Mentos in Diet Coke. 600 Mentos.

Some genius actually caught it on video:

In all seriousness though, I actually loved flipping my hurr back and forth, despite the fact that I suffered a minor concussion this past year. And I also loved getting to know a handful of the 1,000 girls that came through each year. Some of them ended up being my best friends (awwwwww).

Back to Legally Blonde. The sorority house depiction is pretty accurate (mentally flash back to the first five minutes of the movie. Or go buy it. Your choice.). There are a LOT of girls. And you'd think that after living here for a few years with 64 other girls, that I'd want to kill myself (FF to 1:06 in this video for reference). Well, if living in a three-story mansion with a full-time chef, in-house gym, rec room, study and music rooms, brand new bathrooms and full-time cleaning staff induces thoughts of suicide, then yes.

Example of the chef's wonderment:

in and around my mouth.

Joking aside, I have loved every second of living in my sorority (not just because of the grilled cheese days). My sisters are hands down some of the funniest and most down-to-earth people I've ever met (even if their shoes cost more than some people's cars). But seriously. Much like the first few minutes of Legally Blonde intro - there are girls in the background at the sorority house, low-key studying. Remember how hard Elle worked for the LSAT?

Look at that party she's missing at 0:40. Looks like the most fun EVER.


They don't always flaunt it, but there are plenty of girls in my house who could blow anyone away with their intelligence. Girls with a 4.0 in neuroscience, girls in engineering and architecture, writing music, curing Alzheimer's (you know who you are), and winning awards in journalism or art.

These girls just choose to have a really bitchin time by augmenting their social schedule via Greek life.

Remember when everyone thought Elle Woods was a total retard, and she was like, "Hey look, I'm actually smarter than all of you. Oh and by the way I'm better looking, too. Cheers. Xoxo, Harvard Law Valedictorian." How's that for a slap in the face to stereotypes.

Another major stigma surrounding sorority culture is the "hazing" process, which at least in my case (despite my best efforts), was nonexistent. I personally wanted to get hazed. Not in like, a weird, aggressive way. Not with alcohol. Nothing dangerous or embarrassing. I'm not talking about the awful stuff that gets put in the news. I just wanted someone to tell me what to do so I felt like I earned something. I think it would have made initiation more meaningful (although initiation was special in its own way). I would have gladly done someone's laundry, studied sorority history, or tried to get signatures from the older members.

I'm not the only one who feels this way. Psychologically, we all want to prove our worth and feel like we earned and accomplished something. In one study, researchers found similar conclusions:

"Regardless of whether you call the process of joining a Greek letter organization pledging, rushing, or membership intake, it is obvious that there are students who do value Greek letter organizations, and see some sort of pledge process as desirable. Likewise, it is apparent that when students' perceptions of Greek letter organizations are uncritically positive, they become susceptible to hazing activities. The challenge is to thoroughly educate students about the positive and negative aspects of the Greek experience, so that the students can make fully informed decisions about participation[1]."

Sorry to get all academic. I forgot that I'm a sorority girl and need to get back in the kitchen or something. Hold on.

Yay cleaning!!!

There we go. Phew. Cookware.

Anyhoo... I think I was trying to make a point in this post, but now I forgot what that point is. Ultimately, I am an advocate for sororities. 

My rant/stream of consciousness probably didn't dispel any of your preconceived notions nor convince you that sorority girls are actually highly-intelligent, respectable members of a proactive society. I'm probably the worst possible spokesperson for that campaign, since I can't even take myself seriously. But I do actually believe those things, and because of my involvement and the people I met in the process, I know I became a better person. At least better looking.

Hey everyone, come see how good I look

Baby Sea Otters

Have you ever looked at the face of a miracle?

Now you have.

Find even more happiness here.

If this doesn't make you feel like rainbows are exploding with joy inside you, then I have nothing else to say.

Post 3: Cabo - 1, Dominique - Nada

This spring break, I couldn’t decide if I wanted to set my money on fire, or go to Mexico with friends. Since I was low on crystal meth and thought I could get a good deal south of the border, I decided on the latter.

Cabo is a great place to spend Spring Break if you: have little to no expectations, are between the ages of 18 and 25, have a high tolerance for white trash and cheap tequila, and enjoy gallivanting around half-naked, full-blackout and barefoot around a country full of locals that may or may not want to kill you.

The following is an account of my experience with Cabo San Lucas, Spring Break.

Pre-flight:

A friend I was travelling with found us a car company so we wouldn’t have to deal with bartering with a cab driver. They were super friendly. They sent us an email that said, “Have wonderful vacations!!!!!!!” (punctuation was not exaggerated here, that was verbatim) and included this really helpful map to help us find our driver once we arrived.

Let’s take a closer look. I’m supposed to be looking for this woman:

But I have to avoid these people like the plague:

¡NO! ¡NO! ¡NO!

But what I was really looking forward to was this guy:

Yes, please!

But things weren’t as friendly as they appeared in our map.

Arrival:

In my mind, I was going to get off the plane and be handed a margarita the size of my face and crowned with a sombrero by a crew of friendly locals in a mariachi band.

My dreams were crushed.

The San Jose del Cabo airport is the biggest clusterfuck since the Bay of Pigs. You’d think that with all the people actively trying to leave the country of Mexico that it would be easier to actually get in. Alas, this is not the case – we spent nearly three hours in customs before leaving the airport.

We ventured out of the airport into the desert. Before we checked our luggage or went to the hotel, we made the absolutely crucial decision to go to WalMart. Yes, the Mexicans have adopted the glorious American tradition of WalMart.

After clearing out their selection of avocados and tequila, we headed to the hotel. During this journey, we heard the new Mexican National Anthem, “Hello” by Martin Solveig at least three times (the travel time was about 30 minutes).

Not kidding, they play this song more than a frat party plays Levels.

My friend makes these. They are cool. Click here to get one.

Going out:

Went to a pretty classy club called the Pink Kitty. My natural inclination was to steal the head off of the mascot (see the first picture). Look at his face. That’s a face only a mother could love, except she probably wouldn’t even love it because it’s a face that’s high on something that would convince him to wear a pink kitty suit. It's not even an angry face. It's the halfway moment between the initial shock and the post-shock anger. Regardless, he walked us into the “VIP” section, where a girl asked us to come dance with her. Then we saw a big video camera. Then we realized they were shooting the intro to a porn. NOT DOWN.

On to Squid Roe. A three-story shitshow full of trashy college kids and overpriced drinks. Awesome.

There’s no place I’d rather be than in a sweaty Mexican club drinking tequila shots out of plastic ramekins getting pushed by drunk strangers and listening to Hello on repeat. Wait…

Despite the obvious drawbacks, it was a cool place to party. Except for when the she-devils with jell-o shots and whistles come around… they literally blow a whistle, force a jell-o shooter into your mouth and then make you pay for it.

here's one with the devil himself

I fell victim to them about four times on the first night. Total rookie move. It was all fun and games until I saw pictures from that night. That’s when I discovered this:

Despite the extremely off-putting grammatical error, this meme is horrifyingly accurate. If you’ve never been to El Squid Roe, just look at this picture, and imagine some more tequila in it. Here let me help you:

¡Ole!

The last big thing I noticed about the bars is the insane amount of US dollars used as decoration. This discovery bore my theory that the locals in Cabo don’t understand the actual value of US dollars. Not only do they charge you on a relative basis with a blatant disregard for the exchange rate ($25 for a cab ride?), but they also use actual American currency as a form of interior design. They could probably buy a house in Mexico with the amount of dollars they have on the walls. I can’t tell if this is out of reverence or obliviousness or if it’s a just a big “eff you America” protest.

(faces have been blocked to protect the innocent)

Every time I drank I tried to speak Spanish. So, every day I was in Mexico, I tried to speak Spanish. The more drinking, the more Spanish. This would have been great, except for the fact that the only foreign language I’m relatively competent in is French. Things were going well, communication-wise, until about 4 a.m. post-squidroe in a random taco shop when “Je m’appelle tacos” happened.

It wasn’t intentional. “Quiero quesadilla,” came out correctly. But I didn’t get a quesadilla. I got a tiny taco with some cheese and meat. My reaction was far from pleased:

So I ordered more tacos. Quesadillas aren’t as common as I thought. Also, burritos aren’t Mexican either. Found that shit out the hard way.

Day-drinking:

Cabo Spring Break is what I like to call a rolling blackout. You blackout at night and prevent the nastiness of a hangover by doing it again during the day. It’s a lifestyle choice, really.

After a night of the aforementioned shenanigans at Squid Roe, you head to the beach, where thousands of the “inlanders” (an overarching term for people not from California) come to bite the hair of the dog (like… all of the hair. That dog is now bald) and shake their hangover by shaking what their mommas didn’t give them (like I said, half-naked, full-blackout gallivanting) at a place called the Mango Deck.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, I don’t know), this occasionally surfaces in the form of wet t-shirt contests. I learned a lot of things on this trip, one of them being that if you’re from Minnesota, you want EVERYONE to see your boobs. Who woulda thought. I’m not mad about it. Whatever blows your dress up. Some people want to dance with their friends, some people want to flash 400 strangers on a beach in Mexico. I get it, it happens.

If you’re not into public indecency, fear not. You can bide your time by getting a henna tattoo of a shark on your chest. Maybe a playboy bunny or some male genitals. Stuff your parents would LOVE to see. I tried to get “ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass” on my lower back. A friend who was more…. cognizant…. convinced me to forego my cosmetic endeavors and go banana boating instead. My dignity says thank you.

All in all, Cabo was a blast. I think I’m mostly pleased that I didn’t die. I may be suffering from acute liver failure, but I’m considering it a victory.

I don't know why I put this in here. But it felt right at the time.