DJ CFabb: Team #GymSwag

There was once a time when Lauren and I literally could not be at the gym at the same time. We would immediately start gabbing about nonsense and completely forget about working out. Now that only happens on occasion and we've somehow been able to get work done together at the gym. Do work. This week we're calling our running, zumba-ing, and ab crunching duo, "Team #GymSwag." To be on Team #GymSwag you have to be in either all black or in black and white attire and black sneakers with a popping neon color somewhere on them. If you're going to wear a color, it should match the poppin neon color, and if it doesn't match, it should certainly not clash. For example, my teal blue undies matched the teal blue on my kicks and Lauren's yellow neon sports bra matched the yellow neon in her sneaks. You get my drift.

To be on Team #GymSwag you must also have motivation to support the workout. Like for us this week, it's D'Jais. We have semi-serious plans on going to the juice head and Snooki look-a-like filled bar this weekend down the shore so obviously we have to look fresh-2-death. So whether your motivation is for a guy, for revenge, or for like health or whatever, ya just gotta have a target. When Pauly yells, "taxis sono qui" you'll be good to go.

Coming off of a fabulous weekend, including lots of tequila at Sona and lots of Nonna's Grandma pizza I needed a little boost to get my workout going. And part of Team #GymSwag is the music. Gotta have the beats. I know I just posted a bunch but I have so many new ones that I just have to share...enjoy!

"Turn Me On" by David Guetta & Nicki Minaj

"Night of Your Life" by David Guetta & Jennifer Hudson

"Give Me Everything" (Sex Ray Vision Remix) by Pitbull

"The Killer Satisfaction" (mashup) by Yoni

"Just A Little More Love" (Big Room Remix) by David Guetta

"Accidents Happen" by Zoe Badwi

"Stay Awake" by Example

"Sunshine" by David Guetta & Avicii

"Rolling Joints" by 5 & A Dime

"Let's Play" by Kristina Maria

"Wonderland" by Natalia Kills

Sassarella Says...work it, Team #GymSwag, work it!

It Takes Two to Tango

Dear Any Future Man in Sassarella's Life,

     First of all, Future Man, please notice how I did not address this letter to my "Future Boyfriend." You may find this calculated choice of words to be comforting in that it does not imply a real commitment, since that seems to be something you are afraid of or don't have the time for. However, I refrained from using such a word as, oh emm gee, (brace yourselves) boyfriend because I have changed my own expectations as well. Consider this, as much as I'd like to have a boyfriend, I have realized that in the bigger picture, that is not really what I want right now. I have every intention of moving out of the great state of New Jersey to a place that is a plane ride away and I have little interest in a future man who changes my mind about this. Whether it takes me a month, 6 months, or (God forbid) an entire year to move, I will be in California, Texas, somewhere! I would not want to be so attached, so involved, and so in love with you, Future Man, that it would make me not want to leave nor do I want another long-distance relationship. Future Man, I am a believer in every thing happens for a reason so if you absolutely rock my world and change my mind on any of this, well then so be it but for now while you are still make believe, I have the ability to control the situation.

     Future Man, my readers are all shaking their heads' right now. They cannot even believe the words they are reading because they have been through it all with me. They have read about the countless failed dates, miserable situations, attempts to re-kindle past loves, and how I've somehow managed to remain hopeful throughout it all. Future Man, an average of 150 people are ready to kiss the freakin' ground you walk on. Some will kiss it so that I can finally shut the eff up. Some will kiss it because they are ready to see me happy. And some will kiss it because they know that while we may be in newly found bliss, that there will undoubtedly be more stories to come from our non-relationship relationship.
     While we're on the subject, Future Man, you should know that I write a blog. All of my posts are based on the real-life, nitty gritty, down and dirty experiences of Sassarella's daily and long-term life. The basis of my writing could from something you say, something you do, or anything that you fail to say or do. Be prepared for this, Future Man. Most things that happen between us, if they occur in public, should be considered fair game when it comes to posting but I promise to use discretion when it comes to our private life. Future Man, you should also understand that of the 150 people who read my blog, there is only a small handful of people who will actually know who the heck you are. I know this because I know that I don't individually communicate with 150 people very often so the majority of my readers read about my life for entertainment and as a means of relating to my experiences. They do not read because they really care to find out the true identities of the many code-named men. Basically what I'm telling you, Future Man, is please don't be surprised when you wake up one day to a Facebook notification from "Sassarella Says" asking you to read my new post staring you.

     Since I have set up a somewhat fuzzy situation for us, Future Man, let me explain a little bit more. I believe there is a difference between "casual and non-committed" and "convenient and careless." There is a big difference between keeping things light versus making me feel insignificant. For instance, I don't need to talk to you all day, every day but don't go a week without getting in touch with me. Constant communication is saved for my friends and for men who are looking to make a commitment. Since we are not simply friends nor are we interested in a full-on relationship, this type of behavior is not necessary. Where's the catch, right? The catch is that if you go too long without communicating, I will assume you haven't thought of me in that long and that is no bueno. We can have fun and enjoy each other's company but I will not be your back-up plan. I will not be someone you talk to or see because you didn't find anything better at the bar.
     And while we're on the late-night, post-drinking subject, Future Man, I am not your booty call. You should know that I am currently in a Patti Stanger phase of, "no sex before monogamy." As long as we are not exclusively seeing each other, my pants (or skirt or dress or whatever) are staying on. The ship on which this was not the case has sailed far away.
     I might be scaring my future man with this detailed list of criteria but if whoever he is ever happens to read this, he should remember that this is not real life. Meaning...my blog is a forum in which I express every single thought I have at the same time which does not exist in real life. I would never meet someone and immediately dump all of this on him. Additionally, keep in mind that while there is certainly PLENTY of truth behind my words, my blog is meant to entertain.

     With all of that being said, Future Man, based on events in recent weeks, I have discovered that there are just three things that I want you to know right now. The first is that the little things go a long way. Sending me a quick text, telling me you think I look great tonight, and holding my hand are small, easy to do gestures that go a long way. They don't take too much time but they let me know you care without being too serious. Aka I promise I won't think you want to marry me but it will make me feel like a million bucks in that moment. I am a highly expressive person so you can be sure the gestures will be returned. And that's what it's all about, right? It's about feeling good and enjoying the moments. This should be fun and as soon as it's not....I'm out.
     However, I understand that there might be times when I want to punch you or when you might want to toss me out of a moving car but as long as those reasons aren't anything catastrophic, there is leeway in the "I'm out" policy. This brings me to the second thing I want you to know and that is that sometimes you forgive a person simply because you want that person in your life. What I'm saying is that the expectation that things will be perfect is just dumb but the ratio to fabulous should definitely be favorable.
     Before I mention the third "thing" that I want you to know, Future Man, I'd like to go back to what I said earlier about this not being real life. I can't help but notice how high-maintenance and a little bit crazy all of this might seem to an actual potential future man. The fact that I even wrote a post like this seems to contradict the notion that I can do casual and be free-spirited but like I said, this is all considering that on my blog I can create a perfect world scenario. So how this brings me to point number three is that I don't care what we do, how we do it, or where we're doing it but what matters is that we're doing it together and for the time being we're enjoying it. Over the course of the weekend, having to do with moving and other matters, I heard the phrase, "it's not where you are that matters, it's who you're with." I'm applying this to you, Future Man, because despite the fact that I just wrote this post, all that really matters to me is that you're making me happy and I'm doing the same for you.

So Sassarella Says...Future Man, given the opportunity (like on my blog), I have a lot to say about you and what I want from you. However, the bottom line is that whoever you are and at whatever phase of my life you enter into the picture, I only want two things: that we make each other happy and that at a given time we define for ourselves what making each other happy actually means.

This One Time I...

"It's better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring" - Marilyn Monroe

I can't believe the summer is like um over. Where did it go? I also can't believe that I'm missing Georgetown already. Everyone always said that once you graduate, all you ever want to do is go back and I thought, "yeah, everyone but me!" Boy, was I wrong. I would give a lot of things to be packing up my stuff and getting ready for another school year, another football season working at Rhino, and another year of Leo's, Yates, and Lau! While reminiscing about some of the fabulous and outrageous times I had in college, I found myself thinking, "This one time I..." about almost everything. Here are some things, some that happened while at Georgetown and some that did not, that you might not know about me...

This one time I almost broke my butt in a police car. Who knew that the backseat of a police car was plastic?! I didn't! Before you start freaking out, thinking I got a arrested or something, let me explain. To the Washington, DC police officers who patrolled the Georgetown neighborhood, I became known as "the Rhino girl from Jersey who runs a lot." Typical. The officers watched out for me whether I was running at night, stumbling home after drinking, or serving beers at the bar. They often gave me rides but I never sat in the backseat nor did I ever even glance behind the cage. However this one time, Meghan and I wanted a ride from Rhino to another bar and I told her to take the front. Well, little naïve me went bouncing into the back seat and BAM my poor butt was bruised. At first it didn't hurt too badly but by the time we got to the other bar, hopped out of the po po car, and sat down on a bar stool, I needed another drink fo sho. Confused about the two girls who got driven there by the cops, the bartenders obliged my request for a shot rather quickly. 

This one time I met Derek Jeter at the Short Hills Mall. Out of no where my brother says to me, "Wow, Christie check out that stud over there..." I look over and I'm like, "MATT!! Are you kidding me?! That's Derek Jeter!" I'm sure Matt then asked me who Derek Jeter is but he also, being the amazing brother that he is, walked me right over to him and asked him for his autograph. WOOT!

This one time I hooked up with Santa Claus. Washington, DC and particularly the Georgetown neighborhood gets VERY excited about Halloween. M Street is basically shut down and there isn't a person dressed in normal clothes for blocks (except for maybe my former boss). I was pseudo seeing someone in the fall, aka Newseum man boy (before he became Newseum man boy, obviously) and at some point on the day of Halloween, I get a text that says, "Ho ho ho!" I responded, "Wrong holiday! What's up?" (I just thought he was being a weirdo) Later on, I (the life size Bud Light can) got in a cab to meet him not having put together the pieces from the text that afternoon. I will never forget the image of him stumbling around on the corner waiting for me in a full body Santa suit. He had the hat, the beard, the belly, everything! It was a sight to see. Arm-in-arm, Santa Claus and Bud Light went walking towards whatever bar it was that we went to and later, I hooked up with Santa Claus. Maybe if he hadn't turned into such a d-bag, I might have gotten a little extra sumptin' for Christmas.

This one time my mom and I dined and dashed. If you've ever been to the Au Bon Pain at the Short Hills Mall, you know how stupid it is. It's like a 1000 chickens walking around with their heads' cut off trying to get food, a drink, pay, and sit down. It's always crowded, it's always inefficient, and it's never a good time. We were so exhausted from shopping and the place was so nuts that when a table opened up, we called dibbs and sat down. We were so pissed off at how plain and stupid the store is set up that we ate and left. Not one person even noticed that we were there or that we didn't pay. #SorryNotSorry

This one time I mopped the floors in stilettos. First of all, by "one time" I mean all the time! Before I started working at Rhino, I was a regular customer. I got to know the staff and for whatever reason they always treated me so amazingly well. I never had to wait on line, I never paid a cover charge, they kicked out guys who bothered me, and they made sure I got home safely at night. In an attempt to thank them for their kindness, I often stayed after hours to help them clean up. It started off with a few small tasks, like picking up empty glasses or throwing away beer bottles but clearly, that wasn't enough. "Gimme the mop!" I mopped the floors in my 4-inch heels and mini skirts for years and loved every second of it. Naturally, I was called "Mop" by a couple of the guys. This one time Melissa asked me to say, "c-o-f-f-e-e" and I blurted out, "SOFA!!!" Don't ask me why I said "sofa" because I have no idea but from then on, I became the mopping girl with a Jersey accent who shouts out absurd things. As you can probably guess, not much changed in the remaining years I spent there. 

 

This one time I made a really big scene at a really small airport. So as you know my ex-boyfriend and I had a long distance relationship. One time I visited him in his home state just before he was starting a new chapter in his career aka he was so excited to start something new that he could barely get upset over my departure. Meanwhile, the combination of leaving him, of heading back to school alone, and the fact that he wasn't showing hardly any signs of missing me...I was devastated. So naturally I'm sobbing, like serious pellets of water are falling from my eyes. I can't talk, I can't think, I mean I could barely walk. The police officer at security offered me tissues and tried to comfort me in line. I finally get my bag on the conveyor belt and (bless his heart) the security guard who looked all of 16 years old had to pull my bag off the belt and search it. Why? Because my toiletry bag had some over the limit liquids in it. (Keep in my mind that I'm still hysterically crying). So he's looking through my bag, carefully and politely telling me that some of the liquids are too heavy, "THROW IT OUT!" I cried. "JUST THROW IT OUT! I DON'T EVEN CARE!" This poor kid. He points out maybe two bottles that needed to be thrown out, "Miss, only these two need to go, that's all..." and I respond, "THROW IT ALL OUT, WHO NEEDS ANY OF IT?!" Sob sob sob drama queen drama queen drama queen. I was then handed an ENTIRE box of tissues, was given full instruction of where I needed to go next, and got a big hug from the initial trooper who was supervising. I wish the madness ended there but it didn't. I got on the plane (still sobbing) and made conversation with the sympathetic man next to me who had two daughters. And I continued to cry my way through the connecting airport, the next flight, and the cab ride back to my dorm room. Dear God.

This one time I gave my number out at a Yankees game. I went to a Yankees game one summer with Lauren and Gabbie. We had bleacher seats so at some point during the game we lost focus and got a little loopy from the heat. I kept glancing up at the guy sitting a row behind us and a few seats to my right. I noticed him watching us and wanting to laugh at us but in a "they are cute and funny" kinda way. We decided to leave early but before we did I wrote my number down on a piece of scratch paper. I turned to him and said, "Hi, I never do this but I think you're really cute. Here's my name and number. Enjoy the rest of the game!" WE BOLTED OUT OF THERE! I was so embarrassed and the adrenaline rush was crazy. Mozel to you guys who have to pull crap like that out of your asses all the time in order to ask girls out. Anyway, he texted me later that night, called me within the next few days, and took me out on a date. The best part was that he took me to ANOTHER YANKEE GAME! Woot! It didn't work out, partly because, get this....the guy never listens to music. It was very weird. I remember specifically that he had never even heard of the Red Hot Chili Peppers...slater, buddy!

This one time I played Division I softball at Georgetown. Yup, check it off the list of things to do in life. Aside from the competition, the camaraderie, and the pride of being a Division I athlete, one of the best parts was all the gear! We were outfitted from head to toe in Georgetown Softball apparel. Anywhere we went, we had an outfit for it. Shorts, shirts, sweatshirts, jackets, hats, running sneakers, travel sneakers, lifting sneakers, turfs, cleats, sliders, socks, uniforms, EV-ER-Y THING. And we got bats, balls, helmets, bags, a backpack, and duffel bag. Holy smokes it was awesome.

This one time I helped start a band of spoons with an entire diner of people. So the diner is actually called The Diner and it's in the Meatpacking District. It is the best late-night spot in the area and I swear it plays better music than any of the bars or clubs that you have already been to that night. I went there with Sexaholic J, remember him from back in the day, and his buddies. The place was hustling and bustling but our food was taking FOREVER. We couldn't get the waitress' attention so we jokingly started to bang our spoons on the table...really classy, right? However, as we started to bang our spoons, Lionel Richie's "All Night Long" came on the sound system. Naturally, we started to bang our spoons to the beat and gradually the entire restaurant joined in with us! The waitresses wanted to kills us but it was the best! I've never seen such a spontaneous coming together of people. We were singing, eventually dancing, but always banging with the spoons. Only in New York.

This one time I rode on the back of a motorcycle. I used to take the DC Metro out to Virginia to hang out with the Gorilla King. He usually picked me up in his nice SUV but this time that was not the case. I texted him like usual to say that I was 10 minutes away and he goes, "Wait, for real? Shit, I only have the bike." I'm laughing in my head and answer, "Hahah yeah right. See you in a few!" While I'm waiting for him to respond, I'm thinking to myself that if he's serious this could be interesting considering I'm in a denim mini skirt. "Well, I guess you're finally gonna get on the bike." Sweet Jesus. While I'm waiting for him, my hands start to shake I'm so nervous. He pulls up, hands me a helmet, and takes my bag so I can get myself onto the back of his crotch rocket. The crowd of people waiting to get picked up is watching me as a struggle in my cute sandals and short skirt. I finally get on and we're off. I LOVED IT!! Other than the part when we pulled up next to two cop cars, all checking out the situation going on with my skirt (yes, I was that girl) but it was exhilarating. From then on, I begged him to pick me up and take me home on the bike. Sadly, it was stolen from a parking lot last year.

This one time I got my very own military fly-by. I met a guy who he flew helicopters for the US Coast Guard a few years ago at Rhino (yes, another military guy). The next day he texted me asking what's up.
Me: On campus watching the lacrosse game. You?
Him: See you in a few. Is he on campus? What is he thinking? Like, really, whaaaat?
Me: What? You're here?
Not fifteen minutes later a helicopter comes flying over the field and I get a text that says, "Hi!"
It was pretty freakin' cool and later on that evening I went up on the rooftop of my dorm and watched as he flew over the Potomac River and right by me. His text that time said, "The guys approve! :-)"

I've had some pretty rockin' experiences in my life and these are just to name a few! This one time I used Lactaid milk to chase vodka with Maggie. This one time I got hand-cuffed to Lauren (as a joke) after dancing on the bar at Rhino. This one time Matt Murphy duct taped to a wall (literally). This one time Allie and I blew all of the fuses in our building freshman year. This one time the Cheetah and I ordered pigs in a blanket at the Georgetown Four Seasons at 4am. This one time I got a free cab ride for me and Meghan. This one time I was a human Zamboni with George during the Snowpocalypse as we watched Ken snowboard down M Street. This one time Lauren and I were thought to be celebrities at a Ranger game. This one time we were searched at Fort Myer Army Base. And this one time I had forgotten about these times, how wonderful they each were, and how it feels good to reflect on them every now and then. If nothing else, it reminds me that I have fun stories to tell.

I literally couldn't move.

Sassarella Says...sometimes I go through tough times but all-in-all, 

I live a damn good and fun life. What did you do this one time?

"Honey, you can't hide your lyin' eyes" - Lyin' Eyes by The Eagles

Here are some lies that I'm used to (and often pretty sick of) telling...

I'm lying if you ever hear me say, "I really like working out." That is a complete lie with the exception of days that I go to Zumba with Allison J or on a Monday. Zumba...well, that's nuff said. And I enjoy Monday workouts because I feel like I'm getting rid of the booze from the weekend and since I most likely haven't exercised for two days, I'm totally rested and prepped for it. However, I don't really like working out but what I do like is the feeling I get when the work out is over. "Ya always feel better when it's done" is the theory that gets me through most days. I also like the clothes I get to wear, the people I get to see, and the magical ability the process has of clearing my head and distracting me for a few hours. All of those aspects are great, however, the idea that I really like to work out is a lie.

If you hear me say, "I'm not surprised..." I'm probably lying. Remember when I said that my life is composed of consecutive instances of "that would happen to you?" Well that implies that things, especially in the instances of men (ahem Roller Coaster, Butthead Friend, etc) will go a certain way. They often leave me saying, "He did (blank) again...I'm not surprised..." but the truth is that I'm always a little surprised. I want to expect and hope for the best in people which is why I continue to "hit myself with a g.d. hammer." It still shocks me a little bit when I go on a few amazing dates with a guy and then he suddenly just stops calling. I'm left saying, "I'm not surprised..." but I'm lying because it still stings a little each time that I'm let down.

I'd be lying if I said that I don't feel a little insecure around men when I'm with her. She is gorgeous and everyone in the room knows it. Whether she's at the bar, at the gym, or in a parking lot, she is turning heads. It's hard not to feel a little inadequate. I don't think I'm an ugly duckling or anything but if I said that I feel completely confident in my looks when I'm around her, well, I'd be lying.

Unless I really don't know, I'm lying when I say, "I don't know." I either don't care or I'm not ready to tell you what I know, how I know it, and why I know it.

When a gentleman waiting to be seated at (insert any name of a restaurant I've worked at in the last four years), with a party of 6+ people is standing at my hostess stand, hovering and trying to be seated as fast as humanly possible, snaps at me...I'm lying when I pleasantly say, "I appreciate your patience, sir, I'm doing everything I possibly can to seat you and I apologize for the wait." While it's true that I'm trying to seat him as quickly as possible (mainly to get him out of my face), my sweet tone and my apology are complete lies.

"I mean, whatever, it's fine..." is always a lie. Come on, who ever says that and means it? What it really means is I'm tired of arguing about it or there's nothing more I can do about it so saying, "it's fine" is obviously a lie indicating that I give up.

Whenever someone, myself included, says, "I don't care what people think about me..." they (and I) am lying. I always care what people think about me, it's just the degree to which I care that is different than others. If I cared a whole lot then I wouldn't share half of what I share on this blog. However, I care if people find me entertaining, I care if people like me and my stories, I care if someone judges me prematurely....I mean, don't we all? I care that an employer finds me to be qualified, hard-working, and reliable (someone hire me, please) and I care when someone notices that I've lost a few lbs. Sure, if it's a stranger or someone I don't like then I don't give a sh!t but the general consensus is that we all want to be liked for who we are. We care and anyone who says, "I don't at all care what people think of me" is lying.

Sometimes I'm lying when I say, "I'm not that kind of girl." I'm not the kind of girl who gets attached. I'm not the kind of girl who gets her hopes up. I'm not the kind of girl who could ever tolerate being treated disrespectfully. I'm not the kind of girl who does a certain something even though I know I shouldn't. I'm not the kind of girl who trusts too easily. I'm not the kind of girl who would sometimes rather spend time with him than with her family or friends. I'm not the kind of girl who plays a game here or there. On occasion, these are all lies

"I know what's gonna happen if/when (blank) happens or if/when he (or she) does (blank)..." is a lie. I really have no idea. Ever notice when someone says something like that and then the prophecy comes true that person always says, "I KNEW IT!!!!!!!"...? Ever notice how aggressive and determined the "I KNEW it" is? It's because we really have no idea so it's super exciting and an epic accomplishment that we all want everyone to know that we achieved.

If you ever hear me say, "life is not about money" than I'm probably lying. OF COURSE IT'S ABOUT THE MONEY. I was raised in a society and in a generation that defines our entire existence based on what and how much of something we have. Sure, sure, at the end of the day if Heaven forbid the world was really ending then family, friends, love, happiness, honesty, loyalty, etc are all of the vitals in life. HOWEVER, can people stop pretending that we don't get up and go to work every day so that we can pay for our kids to go to expensive colleges, so that we can buy a car, and go out to dinner on a Saturday night? If I had to choose between things like love and family or money...yes, love and family !YOU WIN! but if I had to choose between affording a vacation to Hershey Park and a vacation to St. Barts....like really? SB, you win, hands down.

Why lie when you can just tell the truth? Well, because if I didn't say "I like working out" then I'd get really fat. If I didn't say "I'm not surprised" than I'd sound like a humungous idiot. If I didn't lie about my insecurities than they'd be worse than they already are and it would be very hard to love her (which I really really do). If I didn't lie to the gentleman at the restaurant, I'd get fired. If I didn't lie and say, "I mean, whatever, it's fine" I'd probably be in ongoing arguments with just about everyone I know at one time or another. If I said, "I really care what people think of me" instead of saying "I don't care what people think of me" I probably wouldn't write this blog and I'd probably be in a lot of therapy right now. If I were in a happy, committed, and loving relationship than I could stop lying about "not being that kind of girl" because none of it would matter. If I didn't lie and say, "I know what's gonna happen..." I would make way more mistakes than I already do and I would have one less defense mechanism.

Sassarella Says...sometimes a little lie goes a long way.

Weekend Warrior: Love at first sight is possible, just be sure you're seeing clearly - Anonymous

We all have a vision of what we want our lives to look like. We imagine how we'll make a living, where we will live, and the type of family we'll have. We imagine a way of life that enables us to keep on truckin' every day towards those goals. I have a vision of my life somewhat ironed out but what today's post is going to focus on is men....of course. I would never say that I have an actual checklist of requirements but it's only natural that a boyfriend, a husband, or simply someone I'm hanging out with possesses certain characteristics based on appearance, personality, and morality that would allow us to spend time with each other. However, what happens when the items on the checklist are all checked off but something still doesn't feel right? It's like when people say, "well, it all looks good on paper" but this is real life and people are not meant to be characterized by a checklist.

"Not that there's a checklist but he's tall, like JFK Jr. kinda hair. He's probably really funny. He's from a Southern family. He probably left Texas for a little bit, like went to school and is coming back because this is like where he wants his family to be. He plays golf probably and he wears those little polos with the golf club that he plays at. He has a globe in his office, his mentor probably gave him.

He wears boots, like he can dress up and wear like a designer suit but at the same time he can wear like a Ralph Lauren polo and like cowboy boots. He could go to the ranch or he could go to like a fashion show. He probably has a dog that has a really manly name like Butch or Duke or...

...this is very specific. Hmm what else?" - Courtney Kerr, Most Eligible: Dallas

Is she kidding me? Anyway, this weekend was amazing. Seriously amazing from start to finish. I had a blast with Tanya and Butthead Friend on Friday night at Sona and had the absolute time of life down the shore with Full BBC, Roller Coaster, and (here's a new name) "Tree" at Bar A on Saturday. As we know by now, Roller Coaster looks good on paper but it took me YEARS to figure out that the checklist isn't enough to make it work with him. He is physically my type considering he could throw me across the room, he's from New Jersey, he went to good schools, he has a good job, he likes sports, he's a family man, and as screwed up as it is, he still makes me laugh and we can have a genuinely good time together. Sounds fabulous, right? Sure it does but like I said, despite the fact that on paper it all works out, we (meaning me and you, my readers) know now that he and I are never meant to be together.

On the drive home from the beach on Sunday, Lauren and I were reflecting on the night before. There were moments when I was spending time with Roller Coaster while she was spending time with Tree and then we'd all come together with Gabarooni. Laur kept saying, "that was so fun, I wish things would just work out like that." What could work out like what? Since when do you encourage Roller Coaster?! "No, no that we end up with guys who are friends so that we can do that all the time!"

We recognized that the idea of a foursome, or a sixsome (Gabs included +1, lol) is amazing but that the reality of it being with Roller Coaster and Tree is not. The idea of that picture, what it looks and seems like on paper are perfect but that it's not perfect with those actual guys. And let's not forget that all of that is true for the guys as well. To Roller Coaster, I am pretty perfect on paper. For all the same reasons as he is for me, and possibly some other reasons that only he knows, I am the type of girl he likes but clearly, I'm not the girl he likes. It's okay, I'm over it, I don't want anyone to think I'm walking down a dead end street again but I'm just making a point that it's a mutual recognition. At first glance, there is no reason why we shouldn't work out but we are human and therefore way more complex than a checklist.

We have to be able to separate the checklist from the reality. We have to be able to tell the difference between the idea of a person or a situation versus who the real human being is or what the actual situation consists of. Do you want him? Do you actually like him? Or do you just like the idea of him?

Remember Bob from last weekend? Well, I think it's the same thing with him. He and I have a laundry list of connections, common interests, and compatible characteristics that make it seem like we are perfect for each other. There is a physical attraction, we were similarly raised, we went to the same types of schools, like the same sports, listen to the same music, watch the same television shows, and we share a similar mentality on life and on what we want in the future. This list always brings us back together, rightfully so, and makes us think that we could be together.

I've sensed that based on our last interaction and based on emotions expressed via social media, that he is angry with me. [DISCLAIMER: I have not asked him or heard why specifically he is angry with me, I am giving him space...] but I know that he was not happy with the post I wrote about last weekend. I'd like to clarify one of the points I was trying to make when I wrote, "let's not pretend to be something we're not." It's more like what I'm saying now, let's not confuse the idea of us versus who we actually are.

It's interesting because I'm sensing that he's angry with me, meanwhile, I think he's forgetting that he was the one who chose not to be with me this time around. Meaning, it must not just be that I confuse who he is on paper but that he does it about me as well. He knows that we both love to drive around for hours with the windows down at night, that we can both go from fist pumping to cowboy beats in the same minute, that we have an absurd obsession with Derek Jeter, and that we love California but he still chose not to be with me. If the checklist were enough, we'd be together right now. He's upset with me partly because in the past I've let this checklist get the best of me and it made me want to give us another shot but my point is that I think the checklist gets to him too. On paper, I am the type of girl he wants (or wanted), he likes the idea of me but I'm clearly not his girl because if he really wanted to be with me then he would've made it happen by now.

So ask yourself: Is this person really who I want, who I love, and who I can't live without or is it the idea of this person that I love and want? If the first part is true then sweet Jesus, tell him or her and be together in loving bliss! If the latter part is true then it's time to move on. I'm not saying throw away the checklist because being able to belt out the same song or snuggle up on the couch watching your favorite movies are essential but they are not the only factors to consider. Equally important, be aware that the other person might be processing the same concept. Is she the person I really love and want or is it the idea of her that I love and want?

In my case, I was blinded by the Roller Coaster's checklist for years and I never understood how it all seemed so perfect but never worked out. I wasn't willing to accept that the reality of the situation was that he just never felt that way about me (despite the checklist of reasons why he should have). In terms of Bob, I think we've been doing this to each other for years as well. We've based our emotions and our decisions about each other on the checklist but the reality seems to be that one of us always pulls away when we get close, and this time it was him. 

I get it now.

Sassarella Says...healthy relationships are based on mutual recognition of love, happiness, and fulfillment, so it must be about balancing his (or her) dating resume with that feeling that you get. That being said, I think the same is true about people who choose not to be together. My guess is that whoever makes that initial decision already knows that there is a disconnect between the checklist and reality. My other guess is that the other person will figure it out eventually. You always know when something is right or wrong, you get that gut feeling, but it's just usually a matter of how long it takes you to realize, recognize, and admit it to yourself and the other person.

"She's fine, like wine, she drinks it all the time" - Dennis Finch

Things I've Been Thinking About This Week:

1. Rings. Yup, that's right, the jewelry. One of the first things I notice about a man is whether or not he is wearing a ring. Whether I'm at work, the gym, in the grocery store, or at a bar, I always take a glance at that very important left ring finger. I either find what I'm looking for aka an empty hand or there is a nice silver, gold, or platinum band sitting pretty. Unfortunately, I've learned that men actually take their rings off and chat you up like a single man but what happens when other fingers come into play? Like what does it mean when a man wears a ring on his right ring finger? I heard a rumor it mean that he bats for the other team but I've never actually asked a gay man if that is true. Is it?

2. Starbucks. I spend a decent amount of time at Starbucks and in the middle of the day you see a lot of people "meeting up" as opposed to running in for coffee and getting out. Other than when I'm writing or running in for coffee, the only other time I usually spend at Starbucks is to meet someone new. For instance, I met a woman in DC for a job interview at a Starbucks, I met my cousin's friend in California at a Starbucks to talk about her career, and I've even met some men there for first date kinda things. Where did people meet up before Starbucks dominated life?

3. Twitter & Facebook are weird. I think people tend to categorize the Book and Twit as the same thing and the truth is that they are completely different. Twitter is used as a stream of consciousness and any little thought you might have goes up there. Facebook, on the other hand, has more content, more to look at, etc but isn't meant to showcase every little detail of your day or your thoughts. My mom and I have been talking about this a lot this week because we are still getting to know how to use Twitter. However, there are two things that are never kosher to do on either site: expose yourself sexually or broadcast deep and dark emotions. It screams I need attention, it's passive aggressive, it's unhealthy, and it's a really big turn off. If you have something that important to say, say it to the person or write a g.d. blog. (Click the links to follow me on Twitter and to "Like" my fan page on Facebook)

4. My potentially non-existent future children. I can't remember why or how but Lauren and I were discussing whether my children, who might not ever exist, would be like little robots or completely wild. On one hand, if I do have little brats they will be so well-behaved because Mommy has no patience. They will know the look of death and the tone of fury that means STFU and sit down. However, on the other hand, I could be more like "yeah whatever, I don't care" in which case they will be nut job children. OR I could fall madly in love with a man and decide that having children would make the little perfect picture complete and I'll be the bestest mommy in da whole damn world. And I'm just saying for the record that there won't be any Little Christie's running around....only boys.

5. The make-out sesh. There are the sessions that are wrong from the start. From the first touch, it just feels terrible and tastes badly. And what usually makes it worse is that you could've guessed that it was going to be that way. There's the one with your friend that changes everything. There's the one that you don't want to end. Then there's the one that's going somewhere which is either terrifying or too exciting for words. There's the one that you want to end and then there's the drunk one. And finally there's the one that starts one way and ends another. Sometimes they start off great but end with a dud and vice versa. Either way, does anyone want to make-out? You know how to reach me.

6. Sprite. I have no idea why but the fact that an attractive guy came into Nonna's for lunch and was drinking Sprite really threw me off. It seems like a kid drink and I was not feeling it. I actually had the thought that if our dalliance ever occurred that it was something I would have to look past. His Sprite drinking habits is not a deal-breaker but still, why did I think that was so weird?

As you can see, I've had some intense and meaningful thoughts going on this week. I mean, this is some really heavy stuff right here and I hope you can handle it. Anyway, enjoy your weekends, ma dudes! Mine is shaping up to be absolutely freakin' fantastic!

Sassarella Says...sometimes you just gotta get stuff off your chest.

This gets me every time.

DJ CFabb: Got Soup?

As my brother would say, my life right now is full of bisque. Yup, a big bowl of lobster bisque with croutons. Lauren and I had a good laugh yesterday about how my life at times seems utterly unreal considering all of the same guys, particularly the list I mentioned in yesterday's post, keep doing and saying things that don't make any bit of sense! The phrase, "that would happen to you" is used quite often in my conversations with my friends and family.

My existence feels like a perpetual Grey's Anatomy elevator.

That video is actually hilarious but I too am constantly wishing I had taken the g.d. stairs. Anyway, I'm over it aka cue the heavy dependence on music. Here's what I'm listening to right now!

"Why I Love You" - Jay-Z & Kanye West featuring Mr. Hudson


"Titanium" - David Guetta featuring Sia


"Don't Give Up On Us (Enough is Enough)" - Avicii featuring Yolanda Selini


"Turn It Up (Sex Ray Vision Remix)" - Taryn Manning


"Work Hard, Play Hard" - Tiesto featuring Kay


"I Can Only Imagine" - David Guetta featuring Chris Brown and Lil Wayne


And in case you want to take it down a notch, here are two sick mash-ups...

"Skinny Pain" - Mother Earth Remixes & Young Church (2pac vs. Birdy)


"Stan (You're Not Sorry)" (Urban Noize Remix) - Eminem and Taylor Swift

Sassarella Says...Music, my love, I will always make time for you.

Weekend Warrior: When Nothing Goes Right, Go Left!

"I'm selfish, impatient, and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control, and at times hard to handle but if you can't handle me at my worst then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best" - Marilyn Monroe

Friday afternoon I drafted a post about the boyfriend boxes that I make for my ex-boyfriends. I had to put a pendant that my ex gave me in California in his box so of course I looked through the whole thing. I flew through the box with ease. I dug out the t-shirts, photo albums, dried up roses, and military memorabilia and I realized that I am completely over him. I had no feeling, no rush of emotion, no anything while looking through all of it. I was almost more bothered that I had taken everything out because it all fits in there so perfectly that I'd have to figure out how to put it all back in there. Of course I got a little upset writing about it on Friday, although I'm not entirely sure why. Maybe it was relief in knowing I'm totally done or maybe it was a form of sadness that we feel when we know the past is staying in the past. Maybe I feel a little guilty. I don't know but by the end of the paragraph the moment had already passed.

I moved on to the boyfriend box from high school. This guy was back in my life for a hot minute a few weeks ago until he inspired the "Sassarella, I love you BUT..." post so you can assume things didn't go according to plan. In his box is a stuffed animal, his old football jersey, a slinky, a big ass binder, and a few other little things. I opened up the binder, skimmed the pages, and teared up. The binder consists of 65+ pages of letters written to me over a period of time that we were apart (we broke up and got back together more times than I want to admit). There are also sections of the binder dedicated to happy times that includes pictures, hand written notes to each other, and song lyrics.

A weird combination of emotions came over me; I was sad, envious, and hopeful. I was sad because it's not easy to think that someone who once meant a lot to you does not have the same significance in your life anymore. Additionally, and possibly even more depressing, is that you don't have that same impact on his life anymore. I was envious of my younger self because at one time I had a guy in my life who wrote me 65+ pages apologizing for mistakes, expressing his love, and telling me how much he misses me. Despite the myriad of men in my life, including the time I spent with "my first big love," I have yet to be with someone who is as expressive as this old boyfriend was...or is? I don't know. Anyway, I was hopeful because despite the sadness and the envy, I was comforted knowing that at one time I was so incredibly loved. There are times when I look back and think it was just puppy love, kid stuff, whatever, and maybe it was but seeing it all written down like that I decided that I don't really care what it was. All I care about is that it happened, it changed me, and continues to affect my relationships today.

The high school boyfriend's box helped me realize that I was making the right decision to dump the college boyfriend. Reading the contents of the binder and even seeing the slinky that he bought me just because I mentioned in conversation that I used to love them, showed me that attentive and caring guys are out there. I didn't see it as breaking up with the college guy to get back with the high school guy but like I said, it reminded me of how I should be treated.

So what inspired the "Sassarella, I love you BUT..." post? Well we test it out and back away over and over. We come home over the summer or over a holiday, run into each other, have a good time, and mistake it for the possibility of a relationship. Let's not pretend to be something we're not.

"Falling or Flying" by Grace Potter & the Nocturnals

I wrote a post awhile back about how I am a fool. I'm so involved, so passionate, and I guess I gotta throw stubborn in there when it comes to love that simply saying something is over doesn't quite get the job done for me. I need to actually see it break to believe it, accept it, and move on. I needed the blow out fight with Roller Coaster to finally understand that this was not right for me and I guess something similar needed to happen with this guy, who I'll call Bob.

Friday night I saw Bob for the first time since we he decided that "giving us another shot" was not going to work. I was already about 85 sheets to the wind which set up a pretty disastrous situation at the bar. The conversation started off really well and I was telling him about the post I had drafted about his box. I was telling him about how despite what I said about not being able to be his friend that I was wrong. I wanted to be his friend because I have never been more myself than I am with him. I can be happy, sad, bitchy, nice, anything and he will always listen and appreciate me for who I am. However, somehow the conversation turned into him explaining to me again why giving us another shot right now is not what he wants.

 Yup, that's me. Too much of a diva for my own good sometimes!

I had a mini melt down. I was saying things that I know aren't even true and was being pretty g.d. dramatic. Shocking, right? The girls and I finally decided to just leave the bar and go to a different one that we always go to. Who shows up after us? The guys. Like wtf, leave me and my tequila alone. Not only do they show up but they walk by us and stand five feet away rather than with us or no where near us. Bob is also now texting me from across the room about some of the things I had said at the first bar and about the guys I was now dancing with at the second bar. Clearly, it was going to be impossible to end the night with any shred of dignity.

I take total responsibility for my appalling behavior but I'm not appreciative of the fact that seeing the state of mind and emotions that I was in that he didn't just leave me alone. I was being irrational, I get it, but what is this? Some kind of screwed up pay back or karma or a "see this is how it feels, Christie" sorta thing? Ughh. Bob also didn't know that when I looked down at my phone, I saw things that made me even more upset. I had a text from Roller Coaster, a text from Cheetah, a text from the ex I saw in California, and a Facebook message from a Gorilla King. I was at a total breaking point. GET ME OUT OF HERE. In one night I was bombarded by multiple past relationships, past failures, and unhealthy guys in my life. I wanted to cry and I did.

Although my own behavior was completely uncalled for, I did hear and learn lessons about the specific situation with Bob. I learned that things I've said and done in the past to hurt him have really resonated with him. Like I said, I am completely myself with him which I can see now backfired a bit. I was at times brutally honest and while in those moments he told me he was appreciative of my honesty, I know now that they still affect him. I understand completely because I am the same way. What's ironic is that years ago we failed partly because the mistakes he made were ones that I could forgive but not forget. I could never fully trust that he wasn't going to just wake up one day and decide he wanted to be broken up with me. And now the tables have turned. Funny, isn't it? Hilarious.

Let's not pretend to be something we're not. Let's not pretend that you are okay with some of the shitty things I have done and said to you. Let's not pretend that just because I am completely myself with you means that I should be with you. Clearly my lack of a brain filter does not equate to me having full concern for your feelings at all possible times. I am sorry for the way I behaved, it won't happen again, and I think we both need to take this as an indication that neither of us will ever be able to get passed our past together. I'd also like to add that tequila does crazy things to a person.

Anyway, Saturday night kicked a$s. Lauren and I went to New York City and bounced around from 1 Republik to 230 Fifth to Social and everywhere in between. The next morning on the train home we noted that the night was amazingly fantastic because of the lack of men involved. Rather, the lack of men we already know and have history with. Our legs were so sore from dancing, our heads were pounding from the vodka, and my heart was beating even more heavily to the thought of California. Get me out of here, please and thank you.

Sassarella Says...don't do something permanently stupid just because you're temporarily upset. Fight that tequila, listen to your friends who are trying to save you, and re-group. I know that most of what happened on Friday was due to the environment and the tornado of other factors on my cell phone. I hope that permanent damage isn't done with Bob because I still think that in some sick and twisted way that we are good friends. We've been through a lot and given time I'd like to be able to have a good relationship with him. See you in Cal, Bob.

Runnin' Around: How to Impress a Guy in 3 Seconds

So the gym is kind of like the Mean Girls cafeteria.

First you've got the meat heads aka juiceheads or gorillas. The guys that walk, excuse me, strut around with their arms moving from side to side instead of from front to back because their muscles get in the way of normal movement. They usually have a sidekick, ya know someone to make sure the 500 pounds they are lifting above their bodies don't come crashing down on them. Hey, the zoo called and you're all due back by 8pm.

Then you've got the girls who I think I should hate. These women are always perfectly outfitted, don't shed a drop of sweat, but are somehow in perfect shape. Isn't it always the way? You decide someone is awful until you're forced to talk to her or you hear her talking to someone else and you realize how ridiculous it was that you hated her. Wow, she seems nice. However, there is one woman I truly cannot stand and I think she knows it. She talks to all the guys but in a way that she's trying too hard to be one of them or to get in with the in crowd. News flash: just because you lift with them does not mean they like you. Oh and your hat is ugly and distracting.

There are the dads that look like Olympic athletes. They were probably stud track runners back in the day that refuse to be out of shape. They eat to win, they run to win, they work to win, and they are currently raising young boys and girls who play sweet lax...to win. Mozel.

I sometimes come across the guys who seem to have a dysfunction of the eyes. I think they call it, "My Eyes are Glued to Your A$S and/or Breasts Syndrome." They're like little boys seeing boobies for the first time on television. However instead of pretending like they weren't when mom walks in the door, I swear they don't even care if you catch 'em in the act! Luckily, there is a treatment plan for this condition...I hear it involves a dirty magazine and Jergens #sorryimnotsorry

I love the older women who are still rockin' a legit sweat band across the middle of their foreheads.

I could go on and on about the kids lifting weights who don't even look old enough to see a PG-13 movie, the former classmates that you pretend not to notice, and the chauvinistic man with his trophy wife bopping around together in matching outfits but I won't. I'll turn to another important group: the trainers. Back in the day the trainers were the people who got me there half the time! They were good-looking, charming, and buff but now I think my gym put a height requirement on new hires because the majority of them are 5'5" on a tall day!

So anyway, then there's me, a group of my own. Well I shouldn't say that exactly because I'm sure Lauren falls under this category for sharing the same gym tendencies as I have. For starters, I look around all the time. I must drive the people on the treadmills next to me absolutely bonkers because I'm constantly invading their space. I wish I could tell them that I'm not looking at them or at how fast they are running but I'm usually just checking things out. On occasion though I am looking for someone specific.

Gym Crush Numero Uno: I'd guess he's in his early thirties, brown hair, tall enough, and generally accepted good-looking. He's kind of pissing me off lately because either he's not coming to the gym a lot or he's changed his schedule. I noticed yesterday that he came in as I was walking into a class so maybe he's coming later now or something...whatever. I've been waiting for a convenient meet-up, walk-by, or water fountain rendezvous to occur so I can talk to him but it never works out. I'm not willing to miss a class or even be late for one to try and force this issue. I'm also not pushing it because I have yet to receive any sorta vibe from him. At first I always think that it's me who gives out the b!tchy vibe, especially at the gym, but after yesterday's incident I think I have to adjust my thinking and get over Gym Crush Numero Uno.

What happened yesterday you ask? I got a vibe regardless of my attitude. So there's Gym Crush Numero Dos, who I guess is now Gym Crush Uno y Solo. I still can't really figure out what he does at the gym but he works there for sure. As far as I can tell he's not a trainer but he's always on the main floor testing out the equipment. He's deceivingly built and I say deceivingly in that he still has a neck. He's tall. He's tan. He's my type especially because he's a bit older. I'm hoping not older enough to run for the hills if he ever finds out how old I am. I digress...

So yesterday I'm running on my usual treadmill and I see him come out of an office door. I stare. I stare longer than one should stare. He stared back. The game has started. He fiddles around with some new machine, still a decent distance away from me but when he stands up he's looking at me....and I'm still staring. God forbid I actually smile at him! No instead I have to play it cool which could come off as the b!tchiness I spoke of earlier. So then he takes a gander through the aisle in front of my treadmill. He's not looking at me as he's approaching so I don't look at him. I can't do this omg I'm such a loser. Stare at your iPod. So I do and I have no idea if he looked at me or not. What a wuss. Then I go into my Zumba class (she was no Allison J but I'll take it) and forget about the whole thing.

I left the class early and headed down the stairs to leave. As I'm turning onto the main hallway of my gym, I see him walking towards the staircase. He's not looking at me, but I'm obvs looking at him. I go to walk by thinking the staring game was just in my head but then that horribly awkward thing happens. We were already kind of passed each other but I sorta slow motioned around as he says, "Have a great day." I've seen him around enough to know that he doesn't normally say things like that to customers, it's not in his job description. I also know it because other people walked by him before I approached that he didn't say a word to!

However unlike the pig at the water fountain incident a few months back, the quick-witted words did not come to me. First of all, I was practically mid-sip on my water bottle which made it even more terrible. I tried to stop mid-pour and after a weird pause all I could come up with was, "thank...you." In theory, this seems reasonable enough (minus the awkward pause between the two words) but if only you could have heard the baby voice that came outta my normally sass pot mouth. UGH. I'm already worried about this guy thinking I'm a kid and here I am all "thank you" (in a higher than normal pitch, very blahh and uninviting tone). It wasn't even like a baby-ish, sex kitten, cutesy sorta thing...it was just miserable. As I walked away, still processing what just happened and biting aggressively on my water bottle, I dropped my headphones and bent down twice before successfully picking them up. Oh yeah, baby! Let me tell you, in those three seconds, hook line and sinker! Thankfully, I don't think irrecoverable damages have been done but first impressions are like wowzaaa and mine sucked. Hopefully he'll remember the staring.

Sassarella Says...to impress a guy in 3 seconds, just smile and be confident. Take a lesson from me and utilize the opportunities you are given. In this case, I'm now going to have to make an opportunity in order to redeem myself with Gym Crush Uno y Solo. Great, now if anyone I know sees me there looking around they are going to know just who I'm looking for. Put in a good word for me and I promise to use my normally very grown-up and hot voice ;-)

Dwell in possibility - E. Dickinson

So last night Sassarella's recent routine continued...I couldn't sleep. Here's what kept me up thinking: the city of Los Angeles, California. I watched an episode of Keeping Up with the Kardashians and an episode of Entourage last night, both of which take place in LA. The city was on my brain.

I spent an hour or so on Google looking up public relations firms that are either based on LA or that have an office in LA because I'm really starting to think, rather coming around to confirming, that this is what I want to do. I thought about how I'll need to send Eileen the list and ask her what to do next.

The thoughts that kept me up ranged from how I would get there, to wondering whether or not I would have to change my license plate and driver's license, to imagining unlocking my first apartment door. I thought about how I'd want to do a serious "Auf Weidersehen Weekend" in DC and make everyone from New Jersey go down and experience The Whale and Rhino. My thoughts even ventured into serious futuristic plans like when the time came to buy another car and how I would need my dad to fly out and help me. I wondered about how I could swing a stop in DC on my way home to Jersey for the holidays. I thought about how I would make friends, hopefully meet nice people at work and maybe a guy or two. I thought about the first time Lauren comes to visit and I could picture us walking into a club that I've been dying to try but saving it for her trip.

I thought about how it would work out perfectly to get things set up so that after the family vacation and the trip to Vegas with the girls, I'll be all ready to go. I will have spent a fantastic summer in New Jersey and can now move on. I thought about how even if my day job doesn't pay very well that I could get a night job for some cash....but then I thought about how that plan wouldn't leave me very much time to write this blog. Hmm. I even thought about how I wouldn't have to worry about my annual winter problem of never having the right boots or jacket.

 "Women are like crockpots, they heat up real slowly to a nice simmer.

Men are like microwaves, they go from A to Z, SCHWING!" - Patti Stanger

As you all know (based on my previous post inspired completely by these television shows), I watch probably too much of Bravo TV and E!. This weekend while watching Patti Stanger of Millionaire Matchmaker I decided that she is one of my heroes. She is a no BS, get your butt in line, sometimes brutally (but always necessarily) honest businesswoman. She has a fantastically sassy way of actually saying what everyone else is thinking. Chelsea Handler of Chelsea Lately is another no BS, brutally honest businesswoman. She is by far one of the funniest women on television and it is partly because she just doesn't give a sh!t. She tells it like it is. I remember sitting down at a Barnes & Noble cafe in Georgetown last year and her book, Chelsea Chelsea Bang Bang was on the the table. I spent the next half hour skimming the pages and cracking up out loud (by myself) instead of studying.

 "Are you there, Vodka? It's me, Chelsea" - Chelsea Handler

So what's the big deal? Patti and Chelsea are from Short Hills, NJ and Livingston, NJ respectively. And ya know what, both of these towns are within 15 minutes of good ole Flo Po. Knowing that these two successful, beautiful, intelligent, hilarious (and now famous) women are coincidentally from my area of NJ somehow comforts me. Should we be surprised that powerhouse women have Jersey roots? Not at all. It confirms that there's something so special about us Jersey Girls and that we have a "we'll make it no matter what" attitude.

I was also watching The Real Housewives of New Jersey last night. The Manzo family had me laughing and crying. First of all, the bracelets that Caroline had custom made by Yanina & Co with the infinity symbol representing each kid, herself, and her husband was very touching. Albie and Chris had me absolutely cracking up at Christmas Eve dinner and at Alexa Ray Joel's performance, so much so that seeing them makes me want to have kids. Seeing their family, along with the Laurita's, the Gorga's, the Giudice's, and the Wakile's celebrating Christmas I wondered if I could really leave New Jersey. Then it dawned on me, the best time of year to be in New Jersey is around Christmas time....which I would come home from LA for anyway! The second best time is in the summer and I'm sure I could work out a week or so to be around. Anyway, I think the point of watching these shows, relating to the characters, and making connections to my own world is that I want a life. I want a life that is mine, that I've created and cultivated, one that I can say I did things, but always knowing that I can come back home.

There's no place like home.

Let me connect my life to another form of entertainment, ok? Ok. So I watched Eat, Pray, Love the other day and what I learned from that movie is that no matter what happens, you can always pick up the pieces and start over. Yeah so sometimes sh!t happens but who says you can't pack up and take a year to live in Italy, India, and Bali? It gives me hope that even if I move across the country and fail, that I can always re-group and start over.

Let me re-fresh you on my "things just seem to work out for me" motto...I work my booty off knowing that through hard work I will find success. When I expect good things, well then good things just work out for me. I'm just starting to wrap my head around actually pursuing job opportunities but I'm still not making myself crazy over it because I know what is meant to be will be. I know that if I go in for an interview and mess something up or don't have the perfect answers that it wasn't meant to be anyway. I'm competitive, a bit of a perfectionist, and the tiniest bit controlling so I know that those aspects of myself would never let me not try or be unprepared in any way. However, at the end of the day, if an opportunity wasn't meant to be then so be it.

So I'm not sure if I was really convincing you with this post or I'm still convincing myself but between what I've already said about CA and what I'm continuing to think about at 3AM....I'd say there is something worth discussing there.

Sassarella Says...I love LA, public relations and writing are proving to my main focuses, Jersey women like Stanger and Handler rock, who says you can't go home to the Manzo's, if everything goes wrong well then I'll move to Bali, and here's a reminder to be patient, Sassarella, because you know things always work out for you.