Today we’re going to talk about jean shorts. “Jorts,” if you like.
In my worldview, there are next to zero circumstances where jorts are okay. I think cutoffs can look cool on women in the right setting, like on a boat whilst holding a Coors Light, or if you’re a toddler, but jorts with a hem will always and forever be dorky. Come after me, Gen-Z!
And the worst, without a doubt, are hemmed jorts on men. Wait – scratch that – the absolute worst is cargo capri jorts on men, but my point stands.
So anyhow, with this context established, you can imagine the side-eyes that were thrown when my family and I recently boarded a ferry to Poland and saw a man in jorts. And moments later, another ma...
Sometimes we say something and mean something else entirely. I’m not talking about sarcasm or whatever you call what people do in poetry. I’m referring to those times when we’re trying to express something tough to say and hear, so we do our best to make it as inoffensive as possible.
Like “putting lipstick on a pig.”
Guess what literally no one wants to hear besides, “it seems there’s been a mixup at the hospital”?
“You’re going to need more money.”
Despite being people whose animal brains really, really want everyone to like us, Abby and I have built a business that requires us to say this to very bright, optimistic people on a regular basis. And we hate it every time.
Differen...
Every four months or so since college, I’ve had the same bad experience at the hair salon. I walk in, bright-eyed and ready for a change -- full Anne Hathaway pre-makeover energy. Princess Diaries OR The Devil Wears Prada -- pick your Anne. Either way, I’m ready to leave that place as red carpet Anne and… it never quite goes that way.
I’ve changed stylists and even tried to lower my expectations, but I couldn’t break the cycle.
…UNTIL I was in a brokerage kickoff call and the lightbulb went off - it’s not the stylists’ fault at all...it was mine. My results stemmed from my own preparation, or lack thereof.
Hair styles, much like retail spaces, are subjective. Sure, there are tren...
If at any point you’ve been in a romantic relationship that lasted, let’s say, a year or more, you are surely familiar with the idea that the head-spinning early days of infatuation don’t last forever. In fact, legit scientific studies have shown that this period of “omg he’s so cuuuute chewing with his mouth open” lasts about six months.
Thanks to very real things like brains and human evolution, none of us can outsmart the chemical reactions that happen inside of us when we’re staring down the promise of new, exciting, this-is-definitely-the-thing-
😑 But we all know how this story goes. After that first period of flooding dopamine, the drugs wear off, life beg...
While Abby hosted a houseful of family, I traveled across the pond to London which was, as advertised, unbelievable at Christmastime. We were very fortunate to have had perfect weather and only one mediocre meal, so all in all it was a smashing success.
On the day of our return flight home, I thought about how the actual travel part of taking a big trip is largely forgotten. In these days of mobile boarding passes, we rarely have the IAD to LHR ticket stubs to keep as mementos. So unless the “getting there” was particularly memorable (like the time my poor child vomited the entire way from Iceland to Paris), we forget about it pretty quickly upon arrival.
Can you guess what that ...
When I moved into my house, it was brand new construction. It looked amazing — clean floors, sparkling fixtures, still had that fresh drywall smell. But you know how this story goes: in the first few months, the cracks started to show.
🚰 The water dispenser on the fancy fridge didn’t work.
🌧️ Our neighbor Aaron complained that the pop-drain in our lawn flooded his property every time it rained.
🚪 And then — the real kicker — the vendor repairing said pop drain left our garage door open when we weren’t home. And wouldn’t you know it, the fancy new e-bike I’d bought my husband just a month prior was GONE.
We were livid. The bike was expensive – it had bee...
What rolls along the ground, smells like a locker room, and has no WiFi?
Can you guess it??
It’s the Amtrak train, where I’m currently 2.5 hours into a 7.5 hour journey from Philly to Norfolk. Four cars—mine included—have broken air conditioning and it’s 95 degrees outside.
Why don’t I just move to a car with AC? Because I paid for business class tickets, since I’m traveling with my daughter, and unassigned seating gives me anxiety. Plus the seats have footrests which are crucial when you’re five feet tall or under. Oh, and there's a free drink.
So anyway, I’m sitting here in this swamp thinking about how few things are worse than having your HVAC b...
When Netflix dropped Nonnas, a "feel-good" Vince Vaughn flick about the restaurant business, we just knew we needed to write about it.
Here’s the synopsis: After losing his beloved mother, a man risks everything to honor her by opening an Italian restaurant with actual nonnas — grandmothers — as the chefs.
Cute premise and who doesn't love Italian food, but what made our blood pressure rise to dangerous Florida PTA book banning levels was the Hollywood treatment of opening a restaurant. Yes, it’s “based on a true story,” but just like Vince Vaughn’s forehead, the story is pumped full of neurotoxins to make opening a restaurant look smooth and carefree.
This is what infuriate...
