4 Years of Blogging

Four years ago today, I decided to start over sharing with the internet world and began my blog. I had planned to acknowledge this milestone with a look back on some of my favorite posts, but I am too hungover to go through that exercise today.

I just tried to eat a few Wheat Thins to help get me over the hump, and the crunch sound when I chewed seemed so loud that it made my headache even worse. So, I abandoned any hope of a proper posting today.

Instead I'll just say thanks to those who have been there for the many memories this blog holds and for putting up with my narcissistic need to broadcast our experiences to the entire world.

JLH

The Difference a Year Makes

From time to time I have these moments that make me realize that even as days and months seem to pass by so quickly, change happens right before my eyes and yet I hardly even realize it.

Here’s an approximation of what I was doing on this night for the last 10 years.

10 years ago- Just got my drivers license 6 months ago. Probably attended a Pope HS sporting event and then drove Kristin and JP around somewhere before meeting a group of 16 at Chili’s.

9 years ago- I’m spending the night at my friend James’s house (who had all the parties), but my mom thinks I’m at Gina’s. We’re probably drinking some God awful mix of golden grain and lemonade to celebrate winter homecoming.

8 years ago- BLACKED OUT (aka freshman year at UGA). Too cheap/poor to take the $3 cab ride back to the dorms, so I stumbled back in 30 degree weather wearing only tight black pants and a slinky sleeveless top. A coat would have cramped all that off the charts game I was rocking.

7 years ago- Power hour at Bourbon Street then off to the DZ/Beta social for the Hunters and the Hunted Social. There is a 10% chance I sleep in my own bed tonight. Much higher probability of crashing somewhere at Beta, at Lyle’s apartment or in Leigh’s room at the sorority house.

6 years ago- As house manager at DZ, I’m probably doing room checks for alcohol so I can sign off, but if you were to really check, there’s more booze in my room than anywhere else in the house.

5 years ago- Only 10 weeks left as a student at UGA, I’m at Cutters soaking up as much of Athens as I possibly can. Probably ducking into the ladies room when I see 3 different dudes I’ve hooked up with throughout college all at the same bar. Together.

4 years ago- Celebrating Kelly and Kelly’s engagement and realizing for the first time that my experience as a twentysomething were going to be very different from A LOT of my friends. Chugging too much champagne to compensate.

3 years ago- It might be a Wednesday night, but Beth and I probably went out in Buckhead since we could walk from our apartment (Fort Buckhead) and it was the only time in history Beth was single. Tomorrow, we will wake up with people in both of our beds plus 2 air mattresses and our sofa taken with crashers.

2 years ago- I’m on my hiatus from the world of equity trading and working for my family-owned roofing company. I worked 8:30-3:30 today, worked out at the YMCA while watching Oprah, came home and made a Rachel Ray recipe for dinner, and realized I was truly missing something in life, so.....

1 year ago- I moved to NYC! I just met a guy who has swept me off me feet and made me wonder if I had the whole living up the single life paradigm all wrong. Maybe all of these married people are doing it right?

Today- You didn’t think I’d fall that easily, did you? I’m doing just what I’m supposed to be doing as a 26 year old single gal in NYC. I live in a great apartment just blocks from Central Park. I have a good job that challenges me every day and sends me all over the country. I’m in love with the city and my friends here, both new and old. I have a supportive family who misses me but still encourages me to live the life I want.

JLH

The Fallacy of the Low Key Night

There are some inevitable truths about life. One that occurs most often in my life is the phenomenon of saying that you're going to have a low key night then having a college style drinking spree instead.

You know the nights I'm talking about. After a long week, visions of pizza delivery, your sofa and on-demand movies are all you can think about at work on Friday afternoon.

But then someone texts you about happy hour, so you convince yourself that you'll just go for a couple drinks. Then around 5 a.m. you're eating that slice of pizza wondering what in holy hell happened to your quiet Friday night!

I made that mistake this weekend. After a bender weekend in Sonoma last week (See my blog and CDB's blog on the subject), my liver and my wallet both deserved a break. My sense of party entitlement, however, apparently thought better of it.

To protect the innocent, I'm going to yada yada over the details. Some highlights, as well as I can recall:

-Didn't go to bed before 5:30 a.m. either night

-Consumed an entire large pepperoni pizza to resolve 2 days of hangovers

-Drank my weight in yellow Gatorade

-Had to restock my Advil supply today

-Took whiskey shots with JR from The City

-Didn't sleep in my bed either night

-Lost 1 earring -1 unexplained bruise on right leg

-Tequila shots and a solo dance session at Village Tavern

-Doorman can't look me in the eye today due to outrageous 3 p.m. walks of shame on both Saturday and Sunday

So if there is a road that leads to maturity and adulthood, I have lost my way once again. The more amazing weekends like this one I have, the less likely I find it that I'll ever make my way back to that road, and that's okay by me.

JLH

Sophistication in Sonoma

I learned last winter that I needed to plan strategic trips out of NYC during the most brutal part of winter. So, a few of my favorite gals and I headed out to the West coast for a girls getaway to wine country.

We arrived on Thursday and spent the day sightseeing and experiencing all that San Francisco has to offer, or at least we can now tell you who serves the best cocktails and gives the most generous pours at wine tastings.

It goes without saying that we enjoyed visiting many different Sonoma vineyards. As a wine lover, this was the reason for the trip. However, a sophisticated weekend of wine and cheese was hardly what we had in mind.

After a zinfandel blending course, our sommelier offered to take some pictures. Apparently he moonlights as a glamour shots photographer because he prompted us to pose for some interesting and suggestive photos.

After two straight days of wine drinking, some people might have hit their wine quota and made the decision to explore other parts of Sonoma. Predictably, we didn’t pick this route. No, we hired a driver and had him take us to a strategic list of wineries throughout Sonoma County.

Early in the day, one of the girls on our trip instituted a no spitting rule. Being a group of type A go-getting, independent women, we followed the damn rules and swallowed like champs.

After 8 straight hours of wine tastings, we still weren't ready to call it a night. We headed to a local watering hole that featured Saturday night karaoke.

What happened next, no one is quite sure. We pieced together some clues á la The Hangover the next morning, but we may just never know for sure.

After hanging out at the karaoke bar for a couple hours (best estimate), the owner approached me and told me that our group needed to leave. I protested as any good over-served individual would do, but he felt strongly that we had to leave, and quickly.

We met some locals in the parking lot who suggested another nearby watering hole with live bands in the Sonoma square. We couldn't have been there for longer than two songs, and I felt a now familiar tap on my shoulder. Yep, the bouncer of the second bar shook his head and delivered the news that we also weren't welcome at that establishment.

Now, I can't be certain, but I'm thinking that these northern California types just aren't used to four good times Georgia gals coming in and living it up in their bars. We've all certainly had crazier nights than this (hello, Athens), but COME ON! It was the first time I can ever recall being kicked out of a bar, and it happened TWICE in the SAME NIGHT.

I guess the moral of this whole story is that spitting might be the smarter strategy, but swallowing is a hell of a lot more fun!

JLH

Secret Diary of a Commitment-phobe

One of my favorite parts about dating is that you get to choose whomever you want to go out with. If you prefer tall, athletic men with brown eyes, then that’s who you date. And if you like smart guys with great taste in wine, then he’s your man.

But if you’re like me, your top criterion is unavailability. It’s practically magnetic, the way I’m drawn to men like this.

Have a job that sucks up all of your energy and free time with not nearly enough leftover to devote to a relationship? I’m intrigued.

Live in a city that requires me to fly to see you? Let’s get serious.

Dealing with a crushing fear of commitment and never made it to a 5th date with any woman? I’m sure we must be soul mates.

It’s hardly a new trend in my dating life. I spent most of my childhood, high school and beyond chasing after a guy who I knew was never going to reciprocate my feelings.

In college, it was the too-cool fraternity guys who were more likely to admit their secret love for romantic comedies than get involved in a serious relationship.

I guess it’s all just my way of avoiding the typical adult trappings of twentysomething life that still seem so surreal and far away for me, such as marriage and starting families. I’m 99% sure I’ll get there eventually, but in the meantime if you’re an unavailable guy emotionally, geographically or otherwise and are in the market for a girl to hang out with, you know where to find me.

JLH

Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes

We say the two things that are certain in this life are taxes and death, but there is a third certainty, and it’s that change will always happen.

A while back, I blogged about how texting and dating didn’t mix. At the time, I couldn’t accept that a man I was interested in couldn’t simply pick up the phone to properly ask me for a date. But as certain as I was then, I’m as certain now that texting actually does have its rightful place in dating.

As is the case for many of my single friends, we’re busy leading independent lives and trying to establish ourselves in careers and new cities. With hectic work, social and travel schedules, sometimes I think it’s hard enough to fit in those dinners with friends, pilates classes at the gym and first dates with new crushes.

So when a guy I like sends a text to ask me to hang out or confirm the logistics of a date, I’m grateful to have such a convenient method for making plans. And I don’t think it kills the excitement of a new relationship or lets men off the hook to easily, escaping the potential for increased rejection with a phone call.

There’s also increased potential for witty, flirty texting that I have found greatly heighten anticipation for when I do finally meet up with a guy in person. With phone calls in the past, I don’t ever recall having the courage to be so forthcoming in playful flirting with a new guy.

The one caveat that I would offer on the subject is the frustration in what I would label aimless texting. If you have an end goal of asking me out, do us both a favor and get to that point quickly because isn’t that the essence of using a concise communication method like texting in the first place? An hour of back and forth about what we’ve been up to this week and what our plans are for the weekend hardly satisfy the goal of brevity in this medium of communication anyhow.

Those are my thoughts on the matter, at least until I’m out next weekend and aimlessly text you to ask what you’re up to tonight.

JLH

Too Many Babies, Not Enough Booze

Mark this day as the moment my life path officially split off from the path the majority of my friends have taken. Maybe I’m a late bloomer in adulthood. Perhaps I will have that aha! moment sometime soon that compels me to settle down. More likely though, I’m just having too much fun and it will be a long while before I show any signs of stopping.

One of my friends pointed out that my last facebook album had more to do with engagements and babies than it did with bars and booze. Rather than accepting this as part of growing up, I took it as a personal challenge.



Armed with a rejuvenated can-do attitude for soloing* in 2010, I am excited for what this year has to offer. While I may be getting older, it doesn’t mean I should slow down even if the ranks of my single friends are dwindling significantly.

Just since Thanksgiving, one of my good friends had a baby, two couples announced pregnancies and another couple got engaged. And we’re not talking about periphery, acquaintance-type friends. These are the type that I talk to frequently and hang out with every time I'm in Atlanta.

For my married friends who are huffing and puffing at my rant, those of you who didn’t drop off the planet the day you got married know who you are. In fact, I have great appreciation for people who can be married, even with kids, and are still fun to hang out with. It’s a rare balance to strike, but I must give my regards to those who can.

If there’s anyone out there who still feels like I do about growing up, I hope to hear from you soon so we can have a few beers together and make some bad decisions. You know where to find me.

JLH

*Note for those who don’t know what “soloing” is. My nickname is Solo. So if you’re soloing, it means you are having the best kind of night. Heavy drinking is involved. Being sketchy is paramount. Not caring about what anyone else thinks and generally having a hell of a time pretty much sums it up.

NYC Bubble

Living away from your home city has a ton of advantages. New and different people. Exciting experiences. Expanded view of the world. The major downside? Life is still going on without you back home, and getting back in synch with the old crew can be tough.

I’m lucky that to have great friends who have been to visit me in NYC and keep me updated on all of the happenings of home. Still, every time I come home I am reminded just how out of the loop I really am.

Friends have hooked up, broken up, started new jobs, moved into new homes and all of the other life happenings you would expect for twenty-somethings, and I am woefully in the dark.

A typical conversation goes something like this...

Me: Wow, Tom and Mary look pretty cozy together.

Friend: Hansel, they’ve been hooking up for 2 months ever since that night at MJQ.

Me: What is MJQ?

Friend: Um, I can’t even talk to you right now. We only go there every weekend.

Me: Is it in Buckhead?

Friend: I haven’t been to Buckhead this calendar year.

So while I’m home for the holidays and staring at you blankly because I have no clue what you’re talking about, cut me a little slack. I’m living in a NYC bubble, and I’m happy here.

JLH

Yet Another Cocktail Party

I’m no stranger to the annual late-October pilgrimage to St. Simons Island. It’s mine and many other people’s favorite weekend of the year, the Georgia-Florida game, better known to its fans as The World’s Largest Outdoor Cocktail Party.

The weekend follows the same basic formula every year, yet it’s unpredictability is a huge part of the appeal. We arrive late Thursday (or Wednesday for those die hard fans or college students), party on frat beach (more on this later) on Friday, gameday on Saturday, and finally a hungover drive home on Sunday while reminiscing about Georgia-Florida weekends past and planning cocktail parties future.

My crowd this year was a mix of college friends, past roommates, a first time GA/FL friend from NYC, and my current roommate who was kind enough to let us all stay at her beach house. The Atlanta crew picked up the New Yorkers from the airport Thursday evening, and we arrived sometime after 1 a.m. We stayed up late sharing memories, but have learned over the years to save up for what is to come.

Frat beach. How else can I explain it other than to show it to you:

If you’ve never been there before, start making plans to attend next year. It’s hundreds upon hundreds of people united by their allegiance to the Georgia Bulldogs and their love for day drinking on the beach who come together once a year to blow it out Georgia-Florida style.

But more than that, it’s a day where everyone arrives with one goal, and that is to have a great time. Remembering the day places a distant second.

The night gets hazy from here, but the pictures and flashes of memory compiled from the group tell the story...

Backbends, boxed wine, porch drinking, cab rides, tequila shots, dancing on tables, skinny dipping, climbing trees and sleeping in wet clothes.

Oh, and we’re all 26+ years old.

While the game may not have turned out how we had hoped, the weekend delivered on every expectation. I only hope that next year can top it.

JLH

It's My Blog and I'll Vent if I Want To

It's cold and raining in New York, and the forecast for the remainder of the weekend shows no relief. I'm taking that as sign of my divine right to bitch in a public forum.

• Texting is an unacceptable way to ask me out on a date.
• The Dawgs have gone beyond their normal course of ruining my Saturdays and have really started ruining my fall. Willie Martinez, I'm specifically talking to you.
• The more I fly with Delta, the more opportunities they have to make me hate them.
• Getting under someone else is not necessarily the best way to get over someone, but it is the most fun.
• Just because we used to date does not mean I want to receive drunken texts from you in the middle of the night. Or at least have some dignity and wait until the weekend.
• Doing a keg stand while watching football in the afternoon = good. Not realizing that someone took a picture and immediately uploaded it to facebook = not good. Forgetting about it and leaving the picture up and tagged for a couple days = FML.
• Yes, I'm wearing the clothes I went out in last night. No, I don't care for the judgmental looks you're slinging my way, doorman.

Ok that's enough for today. No one likes a whiner.

JLH