Monthly Archives: September 2012

Forgive Me Friday

puss n boots

Something tells me that if my face could do this I wouldn’t have gotten all of those speeding tickets.

When there are times that I am wrong (rarely ever), I say I am wrong. This is one of those times. I’ll start by extending an apology to the late Mary Kay. I don’t assume it is good for one’s karma to insinuate that the deceased mogul resembles a cross dressing Dustin Hoffman. In my defense, I wasn’t aware she wasn’t still around until last night at the “party”. Obviously, I am not a Mary Kay historian.

I have to give the company the credit it truly deserves. My apology is for judging the mascara by its applicator so to speak. Don’t worry, I wasn’t talked into joining the cult. I am not quitting my day job nor my dream of becoming a writer to paint pouts and strut around in mink stoles (knowledge courtesy of  Ms. Carolina). However, my perception of Mary Kay as changed for the better. Prior to last night, those perceptions were frozen in time. The last impression I have of the brand dates back to ’02 when I couldn’t escape the sight of my best friend’s high-resolution eye shadow every day in math class. She always bragged that it was Mary Kay and that her mother was a beauty consultant… so of course she knew what she was doing.

The truth is that I actually ended up buying about seventy dollars worth of the stuff and my purchases weren’t even influenced by friend-guilt. Well played Mary Kay, well played.

My second apology is to those of you who read this blog and is in regards to my post about not telling your friends if you plan to quit smoking. I am a lying hypocrite. Why? Because I did tell my friends. I told all of you. I consider anyone a friend who takes the time to read my junk (that’s what she said?). So, I apologize for not taking my own advice, and I sincerely thank all my blogging friends for being such dashing human beings. Unless you don’t think we are friends, in which case I hope you choke on a mink stole.

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My Gym Is Not a Gem

Now that I have fully recovered from my Sketchers catastrophe, I have resumed training for the Color Run. I am braving this 5k at the end of November. Training is so much more difficult than the actual run. Obviously, there are no strangers cheering me on by throwing powdered rainbows on me while I slave on the treadmill. There also isn’t a celebration with beer waiting for me after I complete my reps on the weight machine. Who am I kidding. We all know there is beer waiting in my fridge, but that doesn’t change the fact that training just… sucks.

How you actually look like when you run

Swap the bubbles for a beer and it’s pretty spot on.

To make matters worse, I have come to the understanding that either the place is just plain old bad luck, or the employees at my gym are purposefully sabotaging me. If the latter is the case, it is probably just because they are jealous that they don’t have the balls to workout in men’s long jonhs. I also don’t sweat, which is neat. Read the rest of this entry

Make-Up Mockery

Mary Kay

Not to dis the ultra successful, almighty Mary Kay, but this is exactly what I imagine I willl look like if I wear her products on my face… an old lady.

I must have misunderstood my friend half pint when she suggested that I attend a Mary Kay party hosted by our bartender one of our mutual friends. Maybe I thought she said, “Be at my house Thursday for a night full of bloody marys, kay?”. That would explain things a little better.

Firstly, I wasn’t really aware that Mary Kay is still around let alone that make-up is still being sold door to door disguised as a “party”. Sorry, but the only items I want someone selling to me in the comfort of my own home are pizzas and sex toys. Secondly, do people actually make money doing this? If so, is it even worth it? I’ll admit I am a bit bias being that the color pink makes me want to punch a baby (calm down, it’s called a hyperbole). Plus, I can’t say that I see the career appeal of driving a pastel colored vehicle of any shade. Nonetheless, I never falter in my friendship duties, so I will be atending this charade promptly at 7:30 pm tomorrow. I’ll even bring dessert.

mary kay products

Why can’t I hold all this make-up? LOL!

Even if Mary Kay is there herself, looking like she came straight off of the set of Tootsie as Dustin Hoffman’s stunt double, I will stand proud by my chums. I only hope that they will forgive me when I disappear after making an obligatory I-feel-guilt-tripped-into-buying-from-you-because-you’re-my-friend purchase. They will find me out back pretending my new lipstick is a smoke, finishing off a bottle of wine and hoarding the bread pudding.

Seriously though, apparently Mary Kay is still an extremely prevalent business, and I am not one to judge how others attempt to stash their cash … as long as I don’t have to participate. But, I will endorse the hell out of my own blog without trying to put blush on you. Click here and simply copy and paste this in to the post box: Becca at 25toFly likes to high-five herself.

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Blogger Idol

rockstar content writer

Google image result for “writer rockstar”. That’s hardcore man.

I discovered this contest. It’s called Blogger Idol. It seemed like fun so I um entered. Here is my personal invitation for you to join in. I want that feather pin immediately. That would be better than my business card.

P.S. I didn’t want to have to do  this, but apparently to win you have to be voted for on Facebook and Twitter. Such is the case with all else in life amirite? So-ah, if you could go ahead and get on top of that for me. In appreciation I will … do something radical… like post a video of myself doing something that makes you feel better about your life. Go!

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Why You Shouldn’t Tell Anyone You Decided to Quit Smoking

quit smoking

Contrary to popular belief, raking cigarette butts into piles like fall leaves in which one intends to jump is frowned upon.

It seems like almost a decade ago that I made the naive decision to start smoking. Maybe this is because it actually was a decade ago. That means I have probably consumed approximately 35 some odd thousand “joes” as we dubbed them. How appalling.

I was a mere fifteen years old when I decided it was necessary that I begin smoking. It was actually a dual decision made by Jazzy and me. We would do it together. Jazzy and I both maybe 100 pounds each yet were utterly convinced we needed to lose weight. I blame this on our environment at the time. We were just emerging as principal dancers in the ballet company we belonged to, and if you look up ballerina in the dictionary it will read: person who feels the need to achieve perfection at all times.

becca cord in a tutu

The Marlborough Man Marzipan

We were perpetually unsatisfied with our bodies, which I eventually grew out of thankfully, but at the time we scrounged for anything that promised a quick fix towards emaciating ourselves.  This lead to the smoking. We read somewhere back on AOL, in between getting kicked off of the dial-up, that nicotine boosts your metabolism. Thus, we ran with the idea like the stupid tweens that we were.

That 5-year-old, frail as it was stale, Virginia Slim that Jazzy had hidden from her mother when she was a concerned young tot, gave me the worst sensation I had ever felt, tasted and smelled in my entire life. Naturally, I had to have more. That is not to say that you immediately become overwhelmingly addicted to cigarettes after that first puff, but like I said, I was determined.

Fast forward to the present. I am a full believer in the notion that you mentally must be ready to quit and truly want to do so in order to succeed. Don’t quit just because it is more of a turn-off for your new boyfriend than the thought of Lady GaGa’s wiener. Don’t quit just because you want that same boyfriend’s mom to approve of you. Basically, don’t quit for the benefit of someone else. Quit because you are sick of it.

I’ve been sick of smoking for most of this year. Then, after two trips up north where they treat smokers in the same manner as I imagine they treated the witches of Salem, I was beyond sick of it. I began smoking less and less. I knew what time it was better than Flavor Flav and his army of clocks.

How would this be different from the other times I made the attempt but failed? This time, I refused to broadcast my goal to my friends and family. Here are some of the reasons why I didn’t, and why you shouldn’t (note: this goes for giving up anything unhealthy for you).

1. The majority of your affirmations and praise will come from others instead of yourself. Becoming your own cheerleader is the most important. The confidence you will have in yourself will be the most powerful, especially if that confidence is coming from no other sources.

2. Some of your still-smoking friends may tease you, taunt you or worse, ostracize you. They may feel just as uncomfortable smoking around you as you feel not smoking around them. If you don’t announce your decision at the front door, the pressure is off both sides.

3. Let’s say you become seduced by booze and light up. You will know you’ve slipped up, but no one will feel obligated to point it out.  

4. If everyone is tracking your “progress” when those downfalls happen, you won’t have to deal with the added stress of feeling like everyone thinks you failed. That stress can lead to a full-blown smoking relapse. Because, who are you kidding, right?

5. Bottom line: This decision is about you, not everyone else.

In conclusion, I would like to announce that I am not quitting smoking. I just haven’t had a cigarette in a while.

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Baby Shower Pinnuendo

Following closely to the theme of my last post, I present Baby Shower Pinnuendo – a post that has me questioning why I can’t get my mind out of the gutter as of late (I think it could possibly have something to do with me recently following Kyle Mew’s blog).

Maybe you will remember a while back when I explained the oddities of planning two very different events at the same time. One of those events was Booger’s baby shower. Nearly half of my life savings and one very confusing stint in the baby isle later, the baby shower preparation is over. This coming Saturday, all of my efforts will hopefully come together to make one baby-rific party, despite me still really having no clue what I am doing.

As I finished putting together game supplies this weekend, I desperately accidentally began drinking a margarita. It may have contained an extra shot. What you will read next, is the result of mixing these two activities.

Pink diaper pin

Clipart is always one step a head

Read the rest of this entry

Hey Lady, I Heard You Like Jokes…

hey lady!

Jokes are skeleton keys to manipulating a multitude of situations. People use them to ease awkward or uncomfortable conversations or experiences. Marketers use them to capture customer attention. Even someone as serious as the President uses jokes (even if it is poorly executed). Opportunities for jokes are everywhere, so it makes sense that they are abundant.

I personally cringe to see a good sexual joke go neglected. Luckily, my friends find this wildly entertaining as opposed to obnoxious (which is probably a more accurate description). In fact, one of my friends and I enjoy this pastime so much that we developed the “Hey Lady/Hey Pal” game. The rules are simple. The joke must be unexpected, sexual in nature, and read or spoken in a typical Boston accent. The basic structure looks like this:

“Hey lady/pal, I heard you like _______. Well, I got your _________ RIGHT HERE! Yeah!” 

Here is a real life example for better understanding:

Friend texts: “I’m getting dentisted right now.” (translation: I am at the dentist’s office for a routine teeth cleaning)

My response: “Hey lady, I heard you like going to the dentist. Well, I got your palette expander RIGHT HERE! Yeah!”

One more to demonstrate the female version, and because I can’t control myself:

Friend sends me a picture of a job site he is working at doing manly lumberjack stuff 

Me: “Hey pal, I heard you like landscaping. Well, I’ve got a field you can plow RIGHT HERE! Yeah!”

Once the joke war has commenced, the first one to respond with anything other than a hey lady/pal joke loses.What kind of ridiculous games do you and your friends play?

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Fake It ‘Till You Make It Via Vistaprint

free business card

Get it? F-O-L-L-O-W-ing up. Sometimes I am so cheesy clever it hurts.

[Vistaprint is a sweet site where you can design and order 250 free business cards. All you pay for is shipping. The free cards have a somewhat limited variety of designs to choose from, but hey, it’s free and if you are as clever as me (sarcasm alert) then you don’t need fancy graphics or anything over the top to get someone’s attention. And that makes for a good first impression. If you can’t think of your own shameless cute puns and want to go for the fancy stuff, you can get out your wallet too. Just don’t forget to try these coupons. You’re welcome.]

We have all heard the phrase. What does it really mean to “fake it ’till you make it”?

Let me begin by explaining that when I initially graduated from college, I had absolutely no notion of what I was looking for career wise. I only knew that I needed money. I didn’t care where it came from as long as I no longer had to serve chips and salsa and the job title didn’t include the prefix “tele”. Although, I would imagine becoming a teleport-er might be a pretty fun position if it existed.

Luckily, it didn’t take me long to realize exactly what I wanted my career path to involve. My passion (wild right?). That passion being for writing/blogging, through which I also became fascinated with social media marketing. Boom. Success here I come, right? Well, there was just one problem. I had less faith in myself as a writer than I had in becoming the next Celine Dion.

First, I had to muster up some hope. Adding in a little determination and perseverance, I eventually emerged at a different mindset. That is where the whole fake it ’till you make it idea came in. The inspiration behind this adage is that it helps to manifest confidence. Confidence, in turn, produces positive results towards achieving goals. I got to thinking about some of the things that help people exude confidence. One of those things is credentials. I can tell everyone I meet that I am a writer, but the truth is that people like tangible stuff.

hoard keep a lot of business cards. You never know who you might want or need to contact in the future. I keep them all safely jammed in my wallet so that I can access them at anytime. If only there were some sort of technology that could store all of these contacts for me. Anyway, upon opening my wallet one day in search of cash that is never there, I noticed my bulge of cards. I thought, “that’s exactly what I need to give myself some confidence” – aside from a fake Journalism or English diploma. While I do have a degree and experience in Marketing, I certainly do not have a specialized piece of paper that says I am a certified writing machine. That would be too convenient.

I remember when I was a sales and marketing intern for a start-up web company a few years back. During sales pitches, the flash and/or exchange of the business card meant you were the real deal and always helped me act a little smoother. So, who says that I can’t have a 3.5″x2″ piece of stock paper that includes the title of writer? After all, I do write, and this blog is proof of that. So, I began my mission to create my own business card. Funny the power such a small piece of paper can hold. The moment I gave out that first card, it all seemed possible.

Do you think faking it ’till you make it is legitimate advice worth taking? Why or why not?

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