Wednesday, May 20, 2015

What The Actual Lail

Disclaimer #1 This post will be about a bachelorette party.
Disclaimer #2 This post will still be appropriate, so keep reading Mom.

One of the few people strong enough to stay friends with me through the freak show that was middle school is getting married this Friday! So naturally, the girls had to get together for a very mild and tasteful bachelorette party where we painted our nails and watched a G-rated movie and went to bed by 9PM. When you've been friends for as long as we have, you can reminisce for hours. For some girls this might mean tales of proms past, stories from playing sports and going to school together and memories of sleepovers a decade ago. For us, it means remembering always being late to statistics, singing Christmas carols while doing wall sits, combined birthday dance parties and of course telling the story of the time Alex almost ate a french fry.

I've decided to recap the night via 3 main areas of interest: dinner, the hotel and mystery men. It makes sense if you don't think about it.

Dinner included several orders of bacon mac & cheese and several waiters asking if I wanted a drink. After double fisting ice water for most of the meal, I finally just told the waiter that I couldn't drink because I was pregnant. "I don't drink" no one seems to understand, "I'm creating a life" they get. Dinner also spurred round 1 of embarrassing memories, like the french fry fiasco, and several nights that we had to piece together via snapchat stories the next day. Between concerts in Raleigh, parties in Greenville, frats in Chapel Hill and a dozen years of friendship, we had a lot of material to cover.

Back at the hotel, the bride opened her presents, you know, daily devotionals for newlyweds, 100 prayers for all couples, something new, something blue and the like. As the bride prepared to throw away the wrapping paper and gift bags I leapt into action to salvage the tissue paper because that stuff is expensive. We ate cupcakes, sang kumbaya, and expertly applied lipstick as we were helping the bride kiss her single life goodbye (which some of us did better than lipstick print looks beyond unfortunate and is one of my biggest regrets in life). In an interesting turn of events, the hotel room did not include a mini fridge so beverages (wine) were served out of a trashcan full of ice for the remainder of the evening. The trashcan wine cooler to actual trashcan ratio ended up being 2:1.

Mystery Men 
Yes. Men. Plural. Wearing all black, our coven of 13 ladies collecting quite the fan following throughout the night. I think this is thanks to a combination of factors: the heels we all very much regretted by the end of the night, an equal mix of awkward and amazing dance moves and of course, Chatham County charm. #NoNewFriends

Mystery Guys at the Bar
Apparently nothing says buy us drinks like a group of woo girls in a bachelorette party. Seriously, every time someone acknowledged us, we just had to woo, it's some weird science thing I think, an involuntary response. One gentleman in particular bought 3 rounds. We salute you.

Mystery Men on the Street
Oh these guys, let me tell you. The party paused to sit down on some benches and plan our next move, walking to Waffle House, when 3 guys approached us. After being delighted that we thought they seemed slightly younger than their 30 years, they guessed that we were around 25, which was terribly offensive to our group with a median age of 22. They then invited us to continue our party at their house and were genuinely surprised when we declined, somehow not understanding that given the choice of a stranger's house or Waffle House, we unanimously chose waffles.

Mystery Friend
This guy...where do I even begin? We first saw him in a bar when he came up to one of my friends like he had known her his whole life. He was 50% high fives and smiling, 50% awkward laughter and 50% barely intelligible small talk. And I realize that those numbers add up to over 100% and that is because this guy was so extra. We saw him again on the street and he asked us where his friends were. His friends that we had never seen before. But the real kicker was that as we were ending the night at the Cook-Out drive through, as one does, he appears again, stronger than ever before, as if he's had a power nap or a turbo charge or something. He was traipsing around the cars in line, spotted us and saw an open window in the sense that literally, our car windows were down, so we had another brief convo, sent him on his way, and promptly watched him open the door and enter the car in front of us, only to realize it was the wrong car. I sure hope that kid is alright.

This experience has given me some insight into what I would like my bachelorette party to consist of should the hand of God intervene and I find myself engaged.
First, there would be dinner, something to convey the class and caliber of the event. I'm thinking Golden Corral, but only one with a chocolate fountain. A lady has her standards.
Since we all know I'm getting married on July 4th, after dinner we would head to the beach, because why celebrate me for a night when you could celebrate me for an entire weekend? Heck, why stop there, take off the whole month of June and we'll just work on tan lines, cuticle care and eyebrow maintenance for 30 days.
Once we get to the beach house generously donated by a TBD individual, we will watch Saturday Night Live: Best of Justin Timberlake and play Cards Against Humanity, the party game for horrible people.
After I win Cards Against Humanity it will be time for...Globe Games! The series of games played with my globe, Richard, that only I enjoy. My ladies can take turns spinning the globe (after they wash their hands of course) and quizzing me on world capitals. Naturally, this could go on for hours.
Since I don't drink, we will take shots of brownie batter. This is not wrong.
After gossiping all night, we will frolic on the beach all the live long day, AKA I will read and swim in the ocean and everyone else will probably sleep.
My bachelorette party. A girl can dream.

Wednesday, May 13, 2015

[Bro]setta Stone

Let's be real, what guys say and what they actually mean are two completely different things. It's kind of like how when a girl says she's fine the only thing you can know for certain is that she is 100% not "fine" except for it's actually completely different from that. Because us girls generally just say the opposite of what we mean (It's fine = It's terrible, I'm okay = I'm going to die, I don't wear that anymore because it's too big = It is way too small now, thanks for reminding me, etc...) but with guys there's a whole cryptic system that even Benedict Cumberbatch couldn't figure out.

You asked me to help decode guy speak (or at least you would if this blog had some sort of feedback/questions mechanism) and your wish is my command. So I tried my hand at translating. One quick disclaimer: regardless of my level of interest I call every guy dude and apparently that makes me ill-equipped to give anyone boy advice. Don't take me as the gospel. Take me as more of The National Enquirer.

He says: "I love you."
He means: You said it first and it made me uncomfortable but the good new is I like you enough to lie to you. And after the first time I couldn't just stop saying it back so it will be a self-perpetuating lie until you dump me, I dump you, or I actually mean it. Place your bets now.

He says: "You look nice."
He means: Why do you look nice? Are you trying to impress someone? What's his name?

He says: "I was busy."
He means: Not so much in the sense that I was actually doing something, but more in the sense that I didn't want to talk to you.

He says: "Always."
He means: For the foreseeable future (i.e. the next month). Past that, don't try to hold me to this promise. I can remember how many points Jordan scored in game 3 against the Jazz in the 1998 NBA Finals, but I will not remember this.

He says: "I don't like labels."
He means: AKA, I don't like the label my girlfriend being on you.

He says: "You can't come over tonight we're having a guys' night."
He means: ...with a few girls, which is why you're not invited.

He says: "You're being crazy."
He means: It's crazy that you have emotions and you express them. I'm going to need you to work on that.

He says: "Oh her? We were just friends."
He means: With benefits. About a month ago. Just keep walking please if you don't make eye contact maybe it will go away.

He says: "You know my mom loves you."
He means: She loves you now that I told her we broke up to get her off my back. If we get married one of you will have to cave.

He says: "Yeah I'm totally looking for a serious relationship too."
He means: So serious that you share your Netflix password with me and let me crash when I want but not serious enough that you ask me to attend a wedding with you or give me a key.

He says: "No, I don't find her attractive."
He means: Ever since she turned me down.

He says: "I would say I'm ready to settle down."
He means: As in settle down on your couch for a few weeks, I need a place to stay.

He says: "Woman Crush Wednesday"
He means: I'm killing 3 birds with one hashtag here, showing other girls I'm desirable, showing everyone what a great boyfriend I am and forcing you to forgive me for whatever I did wrong. I dare you to be mad at me after an adorable post like that. Nothing the perfect filter can't fix.

Wednesday, May 6, 2015

Everyday Crap (& Gown)

In a few short days I will officially be a college graduate. It's such an exciting, bittersweet and ridiculously stressful time in my life. While unemployment is treating me kindly, my friends and I are getting a constant stream of questions from our families about how graduation will work. But here's the thing...we don't know! We've never graduated from college before. I have a long list of questions myself.

Where do I stand?
Who do I stand with? (Do I have friends?)
Should I take a personal fan?
and most importantly...What the heck do I do with my gown after graduation?

I paid a princely sum for graduation regalia, so I'm going to need more places to wear it. I know what you're thinking...impossible. False, I found so many everyday activities that I can also do in my cap and gown.

So I present, for your viewing pleasure, Everyday Crap & Gown.

Use it as a night gown!

Recycle in your gown! Then close your eyes and bask in the glory of a job well done.

You can even wear your cap & gown while trying on new outfits, see how a new tank might really pull the look together.

Get in some cardio, the added fabric will help you sweat off some water weight if you really wanna lose 3 pounds.

If cardio isn't your style, try yoga.

Or maybe you're more of a cyclist? Just remember to lock up your bike when you're done!

If you need some spare cash, you can always head to the ATM in your cap & gown. It's normal.

Before you cross the street in your gown, make sure to look both ways and do whatever this activity is called. Is there even a name for this? Being a responsible pedestrian?

Peruse some books in your gown. You will look super official, as if you're seriously considering the academic veritas of each selection. And like I always say, books are a girl's best friend.

Get your graduating friends in on the fun at a cap & gown game night! So fun!

Graduating is hard work, go refuel at Wendy's in your gown. But maybe skip the ketchup.

 And finally, at the end of a long day of graduation festivities, grab a bus home and take the nap you've been putting off for 4 years.


*Special thanks to Brendan Leonard for taking all these fab pics. If you know how unphotogenic I am, you understand that this was a full day's work.

Friday, May 1, 2015

Why Carolina

In honor of National Decision Day, I have been tweeting #WhyCarolina all day. But my love for this school could never be adequately expressed in 140 characters. Perhaps the magic that exists in the Southern Part of Heaven, in the poverty of human language, can never have its measure taken.
But for you, UNC Class of 2019, I'll give it the old college try.

We get called obnoxious and pretentious but we're just too busy taking classes on every subject from anthropology to zionism to care. You will bond with your fellow tar heels over how students at other colleges complain about the stress of general education credits. Try going to a liberal arts school, we have pre reqs for our gen eds. Over Fall Break your first year at UNC you will catch up with high school friends who go to other schools. They will talk about how hard micro economics is, but you go to Carolina, so you're taking micro and macro together. It's fine, you have Balaban.

2 words. James Taylor. Singing Carolina In My Mind as a UNC student is indescribable, but I can guarantee it's a lot better than listening to me sing it. Not to mention Chase Rice, if you don't have to hold back tears listening to Carolina Can, well you probably go to Duke. At Carolina you will hear every song about North Carolina you can think of performed by our a cappella groups, and you will pick a definite favorite. The Clefs, Cadence, Tar Heel Voices, Psalm 100. We all have one. Interestingly enough, Pitch Perfect's regional competition is at an allegedly fictional "Carolina University"...coincidence? I think not.

Admittedly, I'm biased, but there are tons of Buzzfeed articles like the one below to back up my opinion that UNC has the most beautiful campus in the world. My worst picture of the Old Well will always get more likes than my best selfie. Take that as you will. Between the murals on Franklin Street, the Pit, Historic Wilson Library, Coker Arboretum, the Bell Tower, the Davie Poplar, South Building and the Quad, your campus pics, and your campus life for that matter, will never lack a stunning backdrop. 

Southern Charm 
The hospitality here is unparalled. Everyone always thanks their bus drivers, the crossing guards always greet you with a smile and the Carolina Dining Services employees could make your grandma seem cold and unfriendly. For some reason at this school we even say "thank you" to our professors after we turn in an exam. I've never understood why we thank them for giving us tests, but I think it's still a nice gesture. Chancellor Folt genuinely makes herself accessible to students and how many other college chancellors will take a selfie with you? I'll wait. 

James K. Polk. Mary Pope Osborne. Rick Fox. Mia Hamm. Andy Griffith. Mamrie Hart. Danny Green (#GoSpursGo). Sarah Dessen. And...Ken Jeong (the gangster from The Hangover).

Finally, the J School would kick me out if I didn't mention Charles Kuralt...
"What is it that binds us to this place as to no other? It is not the well, or the bell, or the stone walls, or the crisp October nights or the memory of dogwoods blooming. Our loyalty is not only to William Richardson Davie though we are proud of what he did 200 years ago today. Nor even to Dean Smith, though we are proud of what he did last March. No, our love for this place is based on the fact that it is as it was meant to be, the University of the people."
-Charles Kuralt

Maybe you've heard of Carolina basketball? As much as President Obama loves UNC, I think Buzzfeed loves us even more (see link below), and who could blame them? Tobacco Road is the greatest sports rivalry of all time and you will never convince me otherwise. Every winter we get #dookfans trending on Twitter and hilarity ensues. And at the end of every UNC game, we all link arms and sing the alma mater for all to hark the sound that's been beating in our hearts forever.

Local Flavor
We don't have a Bojangles or much to my dismay, a Taco Bell, but we make up for it in eateries specific to Chapel Hill. A Cook-Out tray costs $4.99, but taking in the view from Top of the Hill on Blueberry Day, hanging out with friends at He's Not, getting BSki's delivered to your dorm, trivia at Goodfellows, and ending the night with Time Out are priceless.

Lux libertas
Light and liberty.
Light. For tar heels, the sun always shines a little brighter in Chapel Hill.
And liberty. UNC is somewhere you can be unapologetically yourself.
There are so many amazing organizations, clubs and student groups just waiting to change your life. By senior year when you take your obligatory cap and gown pic by the university seal, you will look down at our motto and it will hold a definition unique to you. So don't worry, you will find your niche, it's the Carolina Way.

Last in this list but first in my heart...
Carolina For The Kids Foundation
I have been telling my brother for years to choose a college based on its Dance Marathon program, and of course what I mean by that is pick UNC based on Carolina FTK. For 4 years, this organization has given me a place to belong and people to belong to. In my time at Carolina, we have raised over $2 million for the patients and families of UNC Children's Hospital. Our founder, Michael Bucy, said, "UNC Dance Marathon is a worthwhile investment of your time. You will get far more from UNC Dance Marathon than you will give it." and for me and 2,000 other students, that could not be more true. So believe in the magic that happens for 24 hours every year in Fetzer Gym.

And finally, I will leave you with my 3 favorite quotes on the place I have been blessed enough to call home for the best 4 years of my life.

"Down through all the years of your lives, wherever you may go, your heart will always beat just a bit faster when you hear the symphonic syllables: Chapel Hill."
-W.T. Carmichael Jr.

"It’s on your shirt, and it’s in your heart.”
-Stuart Scott

"We'll hold it briefly, feel its pulsing heart before letting it go to impart that Carolina magic to those students there now, and to all those who will come in the endless future, stay awhile, and leave a part of their soul in a place called Chapel Hill."
-A.C. Snow

Wednesday, April 29, 2015

White Girl A La Carte

Those of you who have purchased the deluxe edition of 1989 (hopefully all of you) know that Taylor Swift explains part of her song writing process in 3 additional tracks. And if T. Swift can pull it off I figure so can I. Except for red lipstick. And high waisted shorts. And expressing your emotions in a healthy, non-destructive way.

This post isn't a look into my blog writing procedure, because trust me you do not want to know what goes on up here, but I would like to say that I wrote this entire blog post from a single phrase.
"side-eye salad"
So thank you Jean-Luc, as always, for being my inspiration and the wind beneath my freak flag. 

White Girl A La Carte is a white girl-inspired menu combining 2 of my loves in life, grammar and food. Bon appetit.

Side-Eye Salad
Side-eye. Noun. To peer at with disdain.
This dish is inspired by those dinners where you order a side salad as your whole meal because you're so poor. So since it's not technically on the side of anything, it's a side-eye salad, referring to the pointed glances at everyone else's food. But the good news is you don't even have to eat salad to give side-eye. I drink side-eye water plenty, trust me.

Primp & Grits
Primp. Verb. To groom oneself meticulously.
Do y'all follow any middle schoolers on Instagram because either the awkward puberty stage is a thing of the past or they could all Photoshop the pants off of me (figuratively and literally) and I've taken graphic design courses. Or perhaps the recent increase in photogenics is due to the fact that 6th graders now have access to millions of make up tutorial videos on Youtube. You know what I had in 6th grade? Parents who wouldn't let me wear make up till high school. But kids these days post selfies that get hundreds of likes, meanwhile I would pay hundreds of dollars to make all photos of middle school me disappear. Primp & grits reflect the ridiculous prep time that goes into taking those perfect selfies and the grits that I think look pre-digested but everyone else seems to love.

5-Star(bucks) Roast Duck
Starbucks. Noun. The corporation that brought you pumpkin spice lattes.
What could possibly be fancier than roast duck? Perhaps a coffee shop where for the low, low price of Daddy's money you can drink 2x the caffeine in a Coke but still eschew sodas as "so unhealthy". A place where white girls have displaced the native hipster population. And what better to follow a Sixbucks latte than a succulent roast duck? You've already perfected the duck lips after all.

Filtered Apple Fritters
Filtered. Adjective. When an image has clearly been altered to make it more likable.
Apple fritters are like donuts but somehow more healthy and rustic, think of them being served on burlap at literally every wedding you've been to in the past year. Filtered apple fritters are meticulously arranged until their presentation is considered Instagram-worthy. Just add #foodintheair and wait for the likes to start rolling in.

Hashtag Browns 
Hashtag. Noun. Tbh who even knows what these guys mean?
White girls who wouldn't be caught dead eating french fries will line up for some hash browns at brunch. And the hashtag has risen quickly to become one of the most powerful characters in the universe (just behind its Twitter-kin the @ sign). You can tell everything you need to know about someone by simply asking them to identify this character (pound sign, number sign, hashtag, tic-tac-toe board) the results are very telling.

Twice Flaked Potato
Flakey. Adjective. Non-committal, liars. (See also: ex-boyfriends)
We all know it, white girls are often flakey. Cancelling plans, showing up late, telling us what we want to hear. Here's a look at what we say versus what we mean.
"We should totally do lunch sometime!" means "does she not remember that we aren't friends?"
"I'll text you!" means "be talking to you never!"
"Yeah I'm on the way." means "I just started getting dressed."
 and then there's my personal favorite "Sure, I'll send you the pictures." which means "say goodbye to these photos forever, they're gone."
And similar to hash browns, baked potatoes are thought of as a much healthier alternative to fries. THERE IS NO ALTERNATIVE TO FRIES. And can I point out that to your stomach, all potatoes are mashed potatoes. 

Pet Insta-Yam Casserole
Pet Insta. Noun. An Instagram account that purports to belong to an animal.
There is perhaps nothing more exclusively white girl than making an Instagram account for your pet. For some strange reason, white people seem to think that their pets need followers and likes. At some point in the near future I will dedicate an entire blog post to pet Instagrams. Additionally, white girls love to show how southern they are by making/eating/posting a photo of sweet potato casserole. And much like how I count fries with ketchup as 2 servings of vegetables, sweet potato casserole really just means candied pecans with a hint of mashed yam.

BaeGoals (Bagels)
Bae Goals. Noun. What we all aspire to.
For reasons only half of you will get, I really never want to discuss bagels again ever. But I recognize that white girls love their bagels, whether you are adding cream cheese, eating bagel thins, heating up bagel bites or sharing a bagel with the garbage for breakfast. But thankfully bagels are a thing of my past and bae goals are a thing of my, well never. But what's important here is to appreciate your significant other for whatever makes them #BaeGoals. Being themselves, having a cute laugh or, well, existing.

Wednesday, April 22, 2015

Rae's Anatomy

As my collegiate career is coming to a close and I'm preparing to enter the wife draft, I pulled one final all nighter last week. In the emergency room. Before you read this post I think it is important that you know I am currently typing the draft of this post in the hospital at 4:00 AM on my phone.

This misadventure began when my roommate Ginny started having stomach pains. My initial diagnosis was preterm labor until Ginny told me she wasn't pregnant. 15 seasons of ER taught me to never trust the patient so I promptly told her I would need to perform an ultrasound to confirm. When she refused my medical services we headed to the Emergency Room. Thank goodness it was after 5:00 PM so we were able to park. In Chapel Hill you really need to schedule all medical crises around free parking.

After waiting in the ER for almost 2 hours and making multiple phone calls soliciting medical advice from my peers who didn't double major in the humanities (it's okay, one day they will be dying to know the name of the last Pahlavi monarch and I'll be there) we determined that there was no hope. Interestingly enough the thought of spending all night in the ER with only me to talk to made Ginny feel a little better so we went back home.

Around 3:00 AM she awoke to more pain. This time my other roommate Caroline joined us in the ER. I guess all my snapchat selfies with Ginny retching in the background made it seem like great fun. Quality lighting can do that. Please note that this was after we called to ask how long the wait was, like we were reserving a table at the Cheesecake Factory. "Hi, gastrectomy party of 3, near a window please." 

So when we get to the emergency room we immediately note that the atmosphere has completely changed from earlier. Instead of having to remove all of my piercings before I go through the metal detector, the police officer just asked me if I had any guns or knives with me. I don't mean to brag, but I could have totally lied. My first thought was "Man! I could have brought snacks!" and my second thought was "This is a hospital not a basketball game, idiot!".

At this point, I've basically constructed a medical chart in my head and decided it's appendicitis. While waiting for a doctor I surveyed the supplies and informed Ginny that I would feel comfortable doing the surgery myself. I explained the procedure using only Grey's Anatomy quotes and a few made up words like abdomination and appendixise. I was writing a consent form on the back of a Taco Bell receipt I found in my purse and promoted Caroline to scrub nurse when Ginny decided she would be "more comfortable" with a "medical professional" (the " "s denote eye rolls). 

Still trying to be of assistance, I ordered Caroline to make a call to the Vatican and told Ginny we would be performing an exorcism instead. At this point her pain was improving but she was still not amused with me. I threw in a few "the power of Christ compels you" chants for good measure but she still seemed pretty annoyed. I guess appendicitis just does that to some people.

I was officially out of ideas so I decided to cruise Tinder for hot doctors and Caroline pulled out her laptop to do homework. And I kid you not, she asked me for the wifi password. She asked for the emergency room wifi password. Gee, I don't know try 911thisisahospital, all lowercase.

When the doctor finally came in he had to ask us to leave because Ginny was the only diva big enough to bring an entourage to the ER. Caroline and I of course obliged but once we got out of the holding area, we had no idea where to go. I suggested taking a walk, going to the food court, Starbucks. All of these were of course non-options when we remembered it was 5:00 AM. So we sat in an abandoned hallway until a nurse asked us to leave. I get that it's not "sanitary" for us to wait in a "quarantine hall" but a little more signage is all I'm asking for, that place was a maze.

Somewhere around 3 hours later we finally heard those magical words. Discharge papers. Ginny left with a diagnosis (kidney stone) and a parting gift (percocet prescription) while Caroline and I left with several questions for our ER friends, particularly the gentleman handcuffed to his hospital bed, but I reckon some things are better left unsaid.

Wednesday, April 15, 2015

Basic Math

Today's post is about all of the math that us basic white girls need to be able to do on a daily basis. I decided to write a post about this because my good friend Brendan pointed out that most women are incapable of simple math, so I figured it was important that I share some basic calculations that you all might need to know in case you find yourself without a man to help you run the numbers. (Okay I did this for me because I have no guy to help me ever.) (Also Brendan was kidding I'm way more sexist than he will ever be.)

So here is basic math. Emphasis on BASIC.

The Numbers that Matter...
pH: Know Your Spot
What's important here isn't your actual pH value but knowing where you fall on the spectrum. If you're a basic 14, you own that 14 and you be as basic as you want, build your brand. If you're a super acidic 1, buy more black and use more sarcastic hashtags. If you're neutral at 7 enjoy the best of both worlds. Curl up on the couch in Victoria's Secrets sweats and watch the latest Indie film.

Should You Buy Those Shoes?
So I have a problem with buying shoes that I never actually wear and I know that my friends and I often struggle with how much of a sale is a good enough sale to justify buying yet another pair of shoes. Not only do we lack the funds for new shoes, but we also lack the closet space. So I've come up with a simple rule to decide whether or not to buy sale shoes. If the sale price is over 50% off you buy the shoes. If the sale price is under 50% off you still buy the shoes. Life's too short.

Group Dynamics 
When you are trying to take a group picture it is important that you understand how many people you can have before you need 2 rows. Once you have more than 6 people, you need to have a back row and a front row of girls sorority squatting. If you have more than 13 people, you have to add a 3rd row. Also it's important to have an odd number at all times because we can't even.

And the Numbers that Don't...
Followers: Following Ratio
Some of you might be thinking "how many people can I follow and still be cool?" or "how many followers do I need to be cool?" and luckily for you I have the answer. Some say that you have to have more followers than you are following, others say you need over a thousand followers. I would like to say that HAVING FOLLOWERS DOESN'T MAKE YOU COOL. Being cool makes you cool. Like Winona Ryder manic pixie dream girl cool.(Before shoplifting. Stealing isn't cool.)
Also page views make you cool so share this blog with your friends.

Likes: Minutes Ratio
Perhaps it's an urban legend but I have heard of people who will delete a post if it doesn't get enough likes. So everyone who recognizes me as a verified social media expert (my brother) will ask me how many likes a post needs relative to how long it's been up. If a picture has more likes than minutes it has been posted I would say you have too much power. Too much clout/klout on social media is a dangerous thing. One day you could be struggling to get 11 likes on a bridal portrait but if you know the right people and use the right hashtags, next thing you know you could be hitting 100 likes on a picture of your big toe. I think with likes go for quality over quantity. I would rather have one guy that I'm into like my selfie than 10 guys I don't know. Because we all know that liking selfies is a modern mating call.

In conclusion, I'm not perfect, I care way more about this stuff than I should. There are dogs on Instagram with more followers than me, that doesn't feel good. But at the end of the day only one of us has access to indoor plumbing. So the lesson of the day is that there are two mistakes you can make in life. One is thinking you're special. The other is thinking you aren't. The amount of followers or likes you have does not define you. You should always be more focused on living your life than sharing it.