You Thought

I’d be back sooner — with tales of splendor and laughter.

Didn’t you?

But consider the evidence:

3 days.

48 bands.

45,000 people.

100+ degree afternoons/mornings/evenings/all fahhreaking hours of all fahhreaking days.

A million beers, jack & cokes, mimosas, screwdrivers [I'm starting to get nauseous again], bloody mary’s, shots of tequila and whatever came after those.

A million more fits of laughter.

1 party-size bag of peanut m&m’s.

Hours of the best [no seriously, we're, um, awesome] do-si-do’ing Southern California had ever seen.

And as much fun as I’d ever had.

Really, it’s a miracle I’m awake at all.

Thank you [again and again and again] to a great group of friends that feel like family. I miss you, and it, all.

Also, to Toby Keith, you were amazing.

How to Pack for a Music Festival

Posted by Madison Vain

Go to the dark corners of your closet. Find the bag full of swimsuits you naïvely assumed you’d need in New York.

Grab all the suits.

Get them? All of them?

Excellent. Throw them in your suitcase — forget folding, they don’t wrinkle.

Now, where are your jean cutoffs?

Wait, first…did you do something about how pale your legs have become since moving north?

No? Alright well, yeesh, um, too late now! Grab extra sunscreen.

Do you have a cowboy hat? Awesome, add it to the pile. You’ll have to wear it on the plane, seeing as how your heart would crush with it in your luggage.

Where are your tank tops? You know, the Coca-Cola red one? The Budweiser one? What about that lace one you can’t actually ever wear because it’s see-through? Justify the purchase of each and pack them.

Call your friends — make sure they’re doing the same thing.

Get distracted, start talking about jobs/bills/boys/moms/dads.

Realize you’re leaving for the airport in 2 short hours — panic, hang up on everyone, plug in your computer, update your travel playlist, triple-check the whereabouts of your I.D.

Take a shower. Chances are you didn’t this morning.

Dust off your cowboy boots. Yes, it will be 95 degrees this weekend. Yes, you will wear cowboy boots and socks the entire time.

Ponder your travel outfit. Why is this so hard?

Revert back to your trusty black vans, black leggings, black tank top and cargo jacket — whatever, comfort is key and you’re still a six-hour flight from the California sun.

Zip the bag, grab a snack, pat your purse until you hear the familiar jingle of apartment keys, and you’re off to a weekend of disproportionate fun.

WAIT! The wristbands! You need the wristbands!

Now you’re ready.

Off to Stagecoach — see y’all on the other side!

Leaving My First [Real] Job

Posted by Madison Vain

I’ve done it. I’ve been employed by a real company long enough that I can now leave it, and work for a new, also real company.

During this tenure, I like to think I’ve wizened up a bit. I mean, I must have, right? No, seriously, I must have, ask my mom — she needs it to happen.

My biggest lessons, thus far:

1. Though I once likened it to Greek mythology…it turns out bank account balances can have more than three digits.

2. Except for right after you move to New York, find an apartment, grocery shop once and buy an unlimited metro pass…then three digits returns to a seemingly impossible luxury.

3. It takes a while to figure out exactly what time you need to wake up in the morning, but once you have, you’ll get up at that precise moment every.single.day. Never will you stray from this minute. For me, 22 minutes is perfect. 22, not 21. 21 is a crisis.

4. It is possible to simultaneously love and loathe free time. I love it because it’s rare and I’m tired and my computer crashed this week so I’m behind on emails and I’ve got that fahhhreaking presentation later and what I really need [NEED!] to do is take a minute and find myself in a mug/pot of coffee on the couch. But then I loathe it because…wtf do you do with it? How was I never bored in undergrad? So much free time. I think I actually transcended the space-time continuum with the amount of unobstructed, obligation-free time I had — especially that one afternoon when I made 100 homemade, vegan, almond joys.

5. There is NO gossip like work gossip. I mean, you heard what she said, right?

6. Just because you are gainfully employed does not mean you suddenly acquire the other necessary skills of adulthood, like the Ability to File Taxes or the Ability to Understand Your Credit Score.

7. Friday afternoon from 4:00-5:00pm is often more fun than anything you do over the weekend. The anticipation. The stolen glances at the clock. The way the 45-year-old down the hall plays the Best of the 80′s radio on Spotify…it’s a magical combination and the closest thing we get to Christmas morning as adults [are we calling ourselves that now? are we?].

8. When you spend eight hours a day less than ten steps from an unlimited source of free coffee, it only takes a few weeks before you’re a shade or two shy of meth addiction.

9. It doesn’t matter how many times your bosses, parents, or bank tellers urge you to start putting money away for retirement, it still feels like you’re lighting a significant portion of your paycheck on fire.

10. oh TAXES. I get it now.

11. Sometimes, you want to define yourself by what you do from 9-5: “I tend gardens, therefore I am a gardener.” Yes, you are a great gardener [go you!], but you’re so much more than that! You may also find your self-worth becoming inextricably tied to your salary. It’s important to remember, should this begin happening to you, to smack yourself clear across your face. Twice, for good measure.

12. When in doubt, shut your mouth. Shut.your.mouth.

13. For sheer, unadulterated adrenaline, replacing one of those enormous Poland Springs water jugs has to be right up there with base jumping.

14. There are two kinds of people in the world: the people who hold full-time, demanding desk jobs and manage to not gain weight and people I don’t irrationally hate.

15. You better hope you work with some cool people — so far it’s been the best [only?] way to make friends post-college. Stop staring at their cubicle and talk to them! They’re yours for as long as neither of you get fired…or leave [sorry Alyssa!].

16. The buzz words you used to laugh at — they start falling out of your mouth fairly quickly. One day you find yourself in a meeting dropping “synergy” this and “future-focus” that, with a completely straight face. Your boss nods. Brilliant, he thinks. Suddenly you’re hyper aware of what you’re saying. The meeting ends. Numbly, you shake hands with everyone and walk, slowly, back to your desk, dumbfounded by what you’ve become. Two more hours until you can go home.

17. No matter how many afternoons ended with your forehead glued to your keyboard in defeat, you’ll be sad to go. Packing up your desk will be no fun. Many thanks to Sports Illustrated and everyone who made it as rewarding as it was — if all else fails, we’ll always have Vegas.

The Difference A Year Makes

Posted by Madison Vain

When I carved out this little corner of the world wide web for myself, exactly one year ago, life really couldn’t have been more different.

Senior spring at Wake Forest…the rolling hills of Winston-Salem, North Carolina…an embarrassing amount [no, seriously, embarrassing] of freedom and free time…existing in a perfectly slow, collegiate malaise…

Weekends at the beach,

Afternoons in the backyard,

Balmy evenings at the ballpark, reveling in the “downtown” bar scene, or sitting on our stoop wishing time would stop slipping by.

So much has happened since then.

I graduated,

Moved to New York,

Went home, and watched my best friend marry the man of her [our? everyone's?] dreams,

Got a job and joined the legions of 20-somethings scraping by in the big city,

Survived the hurricane,

Made new friends, reunited with old ones,

And squeezed in as many good meals, tasty recipes, and fancy cocktails as possible [favorites here, here, and here!]

It’s been amazing to collect so many memories with you.

Thanks for [still] stopping by!

Things I Learned After Moving Away

Posted by Madison Vain

Going to college, as ripe an opportunity for growth as it was, pales in comparison to moving to New York. No team, no coaches, no built-in friend group…

Wait, no orientations, classes, tutors [what? not me!], or school-sanctioned social functions either.

Nope, just me, the city, and roughly eight-to-ten million people I had never met, still haven’t met, and will never meet.

New York is an inherently humbling beast. You think things are going your way — you can finally give nagging tourists directions, you’ve stopped smiling at strangers when you make eye contact on the subway [because that really fahhreaks people out up here], you know all the Jewish holidays and their traditions by heart, you’ve even taken part in all the Jewish holidays and their traditions…

And then New York comes calling. It knocks you down. Way down. Further than you thought possible. It reminds you that you’re hundreds of miles from your family. Oh, and most of your friends. It tells you all about how expensive life can be and how competitive and ruthless some people are.

Along the way, basking in the glory of those highs and bitching and moaning through those lows, I’ve learned a thing or two [let's be real, I was never going to stop this list at 'two'].

1. How to budget. Budget like WHOA.

2. How to get a bartender to totally forget I have a cash tab [see #1].

3. How to get other patrons to pick up said tab without infringing on my sexual/moral/personal integrity [or theirs].

4. That knowing your limit does not necessarily make you weak.

5. And obeying that limit does not necessarily make you smart.

6. The less you want to ask a question, the more important it probably is.

7. If someone ever asks your permission to date, court, or sleep with the man you love, tell them no.

8. They will probably do so anyway.

9. They probably already have.

10. Loyalty is important.

11. But when you get down to it — down to that golden nugget of truth hiding at the center of the universe — very few people are loyal.

12. This does not negate #10.

13. But, still, not everyone deserves yours. Keep an eye out.

14. There are very, very few reasons to ever hurt someone. Ironically enough, these times are also when you want to the least.

15. People grow apart.

16. People leave.

17. In both scenarios, it’s okay to miss them.

18. Sometimes, it’s okay to tell them so.

19. They are not obligated to care, or reciprocate.

20. Holding on to something that no longer works, be it a relationship, partnership, friendship, or job is unfair to everyone involved.

21. Being sorry usually means more to you than to the one you’ve hurt.

22. Be honest.

23. Life goes on.

24. But really, it does. Whether or not you want it to.

25. Everyone has something to say.

26. It’s best to let them say it.

27. Being sensitive doesn’t mean you’re desperate. It’s not a flaw, no matter how many times people may try to convince you it is.

28. Sometimes people you really love — really, really love — will end up hating you.

29. It hurts.

30. After a crisis, it might feel as if you lost part of your soul.

31. Don’t worry, you’ll get it back.

32. Theme parties still exist. They’re still fun.

33. The city is beautiful at night.

34. Also, during the day.

35. And from a distance.

36. If you buy earrings from a sidewalk vendor, wash before wearing.

36. Be yourself. Be your weird self as hard as you can.

37. Becoming jaded as you get older is something people have said and written about forever. Know this is optional. Bad things happen; things you never wanted to happen, to you and/or to those you love. You’re going to like things you shouldn’t, love people who don’t deserve you, and miss opportunities you should’ve valued. Rather than cast those experience aside, chalking them up as stupid mistakes, feel them. The pain, the stupidity, the loss. Feel them as passionately as you feel the good and great things. Then, move on, and work to make happy the person you were before things got all twisted and torn inside.

38. Have fun.

39. Lots of it.

And We Couldn’t Wait

Posted by Madison Vain

Juice boxes become sodas. Sodas become vodkas. Strollers become bikes, which become cars. Bashful smiles quickly become kisses and kisses become…well, anyway. Point is, everything changes. Evolves. Grows. Blossoms. Breaks. Withers.

But remember?

Remember when dad’s shoulders was the highest place in the whole world and mom was your hero?

When race issues were about who ran the fastest, war was a card game, and good-byes were only until tomorrow?

When mom still wrapped your towel around you as you jumped out of the pool and packed your lunch, always scribbling that little heart next to your name?

When kissing a boo-boo was all it took to feel better and an afternoon spent climbing trees was nothing short of ordinary?

Remember how we couldn’t wait? Couldn’t wait to grow up?

To get our licenses and buy our own booze? Make our own friends and set our own curfews?

To be on our own, charting our courses and mastering our destinies?

I marvel: we couldn’t wait to grow up.

If only we knew, knew how much less time there was for lying under sunny skies. For fighting with your sisters about nothing. For building forts. And decorating the inside of your closet with collages of your favorite boy bands. And tickling people until someone starts crying and it’s not fun anymore.

If only we knew.

But we didn’t, and we couldn’t, and we couldn’t wait.

How To Grow Up When You Really Don’t Want To

Posted by Madison Vain

- Find a job, or jobs, that keeps you working 70% of all waking hours. Oscillate between resenting it and seeing it as your one true saving grace; your salvation in a wasteland of unemployment. Kiss up. Look sharp. Master the keurig. Learn to make copies and send faxes. Memorize every ctrl+ shortcut to impress co-workers and eliminate any unnecessary keystrokes. When Monday morning arrives and every inch of your soul is clinging to your down comforter, resisting another day of tedium…imagine your childhood home. Imagine your mother and the way she would breeze in and out of your room, unannounced, without knocking, insisting that your door stay open when your boyfriend was over. Get up and go to work.

- Put on a few pounds at Thanksgiving and wait for them to magically melt off the way they always do. Keep waiting. Slowly arrive at the terrifying conclusion that they are not melting off and that your body now requires maintenance. Curse this reality. Begrudgingly accept your weight loss challenge. Confront your problem areas with a few choice moves. Go to the gym. Go to yoga. Go for a run. When given the option between the elevator and stairs, take the stairs. Convince yourself that you’ll get stuck between floors in the elevator with someone who whistles or pretend there’s a fire. There’s definitely a fire — stairs it is.

- Buy a plant or two. Desperately try to keep them alive. Give them names, like Harold or Honey. Give them pep talks, sunny windowsill spots, and play them classical music to stimulate their growth — the way you’re certain your mother should have while you were in the womb. Play Bach. Play Chopin. Play the Marie Antoinette soundtrack…it was pretty good, right? When you come home from work and see that your plant has died, think of your friends who have already committed to raising a child and cut your losses.

- Date the wrong people, in hopes that you’ll be better suited to recognize the right one[s], later on. Offer to pay even when you’re three days shy of depositing rent or going broke. Split the bill. Consult Groupon for activities. Cancel dates at the last-minute because your boss needs you. Google “Stockholm Syndrome.” Take a selfie. Instagram it (filter, filter again, hashtag). Sleep next to your laptop and kiss it good morning when the sun peeks through your window. And on days when your love life looks eerily similar to a film student’s final project, call the youngest divorced person you know and let them vent. Express your deepest sympathies.

- Invest in gold. Invest in silverware. Invest in various pots and pans of various shapes and sizes and a mop that doesn’t spray soap-water at the touch of a button. Have a dinner party and let your friends restock your liquor cabinet with affordable red wine. Be bold in the kitchen. Cook something you’re pretty sure you saw your mom do once [keep her on the phone throughout the entire process]. Bake something from an instructional YouTube video. Replicate something from Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives and when it’s raw in the middle or burnt around the edges, spit it out and resolve to try again.

Always, try again.

Social Rules I Routinely Violate

Posted by Madison Vain

I’ve never really made any claim [here, or otherwise] of being socially adept.

Mainly, because it would be a lie.

I just…eh…things just don’t always go according to plan for me [why do I plan social interactions? perchance we should mediate on that off-putting fact for a bit].

And so, in light of the fact that it’s Friday and we’re all likely attempting something social in a few hours…I thought ‘why not review my routine misfires, and hopefully spare you the embarrassment?

1. Cancer jokes. Turns out, they aren’t funny. I act like it’s okay because I had cancer but…no. Just, no.

There are a few, select people — like those that were actually there for that ordeal — that this is almost [almost] appropriate with. But whisper such sarcastic words in the presence of…well…of anyone else, really, and let’s talk about the dumbfounded faces, angry glares, and gaping mouths turning your way.

2. Laughing too loud in small spaces. Now, if you know me, you know I don’t actually laugh. I do this really weird, not charming thing where I make all the motions of laughing — open mouth, smile, squinty eyes, maybe even a knee slap [if you're lucky] — but I emit no noise. Why? Because I have a terrible, terrible laugh.

Don’t try to talk me out of it, after 23 years…I know.

So on the off-chance something tickles me to the point of true laughter, you better believe it’s in a tightly enclosed, barely-any-air, nook or cranny [or, as demonstrated here, a gondola or a packed limo]. Why? Well, it guarantees a a profound echo that will soon have everyone’s eardrums screaming.

Make sure, if this sounds like you, you’re with real friends. If not…oy…don’t count on a return-invite.

3. This face.

Also, this one.

I mean…

geezus.

4. The Irish Exit. I may have just learned the phrase…but the move? Oh, we go way back. The problem is, my subtly flees somewhere around my third cocktail so I tend to get caught in the act.

There’s also been murmurs it’s because I construct lofty plans that involve leaping over couches and sneaking out windows…in ’80′s theme-party attire.

That, right there, is the ruddy face of a genius y’all.

5. Still not mastering a ‘poker face’.

Smile and nod…smile and nod…it cannot be that hard! Right?

Wrong. Judgment spreads all over my face instantaneously.

I like to pretend this odd combination of social misfires and faux-pas is somehow endearing…y’know in one of those ‘awkward but oh-so-charming’ ways where people just can’t get enough…

But experience proves otherwise.

So here’s to Friday and the hope that nothing from this list worms its way into your weekend!

Have a good one!

Roomies for Dummies

Posted by Madison Vain

So you’re getting a new roommate or (*gasp) a roommate for the very first time.

Congrats! You now get an apartment, house, condo, duplex, or some other form of lodging that you could otherwise never afford.

On your end of the table, all you have to do is give up is a little privacy, a little of what you stock in the ‘fridge, and…well…your entire apartment, house, condo, or otherwise.

Finding the right people do to this with, then, is of the utmost importance. You’re sharing a TV remote, a thermostat, at least one bedroom wall, and on one or more drunken occasions, a toothbrush.

If things go well…you’ve got years of splendor and general debauchery in front of you. You’ll revel in the local bar scene…

You’ll get dressed up and head out to schmancy events…

You’ll also get dressed up and go to trashy, theme-party events…

And some days you won’t get dressed up at all — you’ll stay home, in your gym clothes and oversized t-shirts, and play beer pong for hours on the front porch just because…

They’ll take you to their hometowns, open their doors, and show you how they became who they are…

And somewhere along the way, you’ll fall in love (except for the times when you’re blinded by hate because their out-of-town visitors have overstayed their welcome and are halfway through your gallon of rocky road ice cream), and so will your families…

If things go poorly, your roommates will soon become like a spouse you don’t love but stay together with for the sake of your children (the children, in this case, being your lease). You sleep in different rooms, but any household decisions will have to be discussed communally.

The most important decision of this sort would be about buying a TV–you’ll have to find out if it plays The Bachelor beforehand, because once your roommate figures out the DVR, you better believe that’s the only thing it will get to record.

So despite thinking that a shared tech-savvyness will be the foundation of a beautiful life together…Craigslist maybe shouldn’t be your first stop (Amy…). I’ve always gone the ‘friend’-route and I tell you what…it’s worked every time.

To 122 Rosedale–I miss you and the rooster…and only half that sentence is a lie.

Weekending

Posted by Madison Vain

Sometimes [eh...more often than that} I want an award for being a grown up.

Y'know, just a little trophy with my adult accomplishment engraved. Actually, I'd settle for a sticker. Gold-star me! I deserve it!

Right?

"Maturity" is hard. No seriously…it is [am I whining? no? you're nodding along in agreement? awesome, thank you]. And I don’t need much, maybe just an occasional high-five for surviving life’s little tasks, or any small gesture that says:

Hey Madison, great job not losing your W2 forms. Wait…you saved copies and faxed them to your parents before tax season? Right on!

1st place for paying rent early goes to Madison Elizabeth Vain.

You didn’t eat both bags of peanut m&m’s you bought for that party before your guests arrived. Well done!

You swiffered! Superstar status!

All your under-garments match, and they’re clean. Well played.

Look at you comparing cable company packages before ordering.

Ooo you took care of your outstanding credit card balance. Congrats!

1st place in home decor goes to Miss Vain for her matching tea towels and coordinated throw pillows!

Great Job! You didn’t eat a 3 pound bag of grapes for dinner [again]. You’re so good at life!

Feels good, right? Go on an apply all those praises to your life ASAP, you deserve them too.

But what else feels good?

Being childish [the irony, I swear]. Especially when it’s with your bestie who’s come to town for the weekend.

Having snacks instead of “real” dinners.

Laughing a bit too hard, a bit too late into the night.

Cocktail-induced PDA.

Spending way too much on matching pairs of suede booties, and giggling all the while.

Gossiping about 7th grade drama and middle-school boys with old friends, as if it was all happening now.

Oversized cupcakes. Sprinkles. Frosting. Candles. Singing “Happy Birthday”. Making wishes.

It was all too much fun and I’ve got a tummy ache from belly laughs, sugar, and general debauchery to remind me all through this Monday morning.

told.in.vain

Category Archives: Lifestyle

You Thought

How to Pack for a Music Festival

Leaving My First [Real] Job

The Difference A Year Makes

Things I Learned After Moving Away

And We Couldn’t Wait

How To Grow Up When You Really Don’t Want To

Social Rules I Routinely Violate

Roomies for Dummies

Weekending

Follow “told.in.vain”

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Follow “told.in.vain”