I think I finally understand why good guys finish last. 

Out of no intention or plan at all, for some reason this year I’ve become a lot shittier of a friend. By this I mean I selectively answer text messages (about 40% of the time), don’t pay attention during conversation, take no initiative to coordinate plans, spend far too much time on my smart phone while in public, etc. You get the point.

I also moved into my first studio apartment. Living by yourself is AWESOME and makes it SO much easier for me to be a hermit, which I love to do.

So I sound like a great friend, right? Like you want to come hang out with me right now? Of course not!

BUT FOR SOME REASON PEOPLE WANT TO BE MY FRIEND. I’m not saying this in the self deprecating way, I happen to think I am pretty awesome…but it seems like the more I push people away, the more they want to get close to me. It’s like I’m Regina George and all of my acquaintances are a bunch of Gretchen Weiners. I SERIOUSLY DON’T GET IT.

Possibilities:

1. I did get a lot cooler in the last year or so. Hmm not much has changed about me or my life though, other than the fact that I’ve been acting like a bigger bitch.
2. I’m hanging out with lamer people. Again I like the people I hang out with and wouldn’t call them lame…I just happen to treat them poorly. Honestly it’s mostly out of laziness.
3. Technology is ruining our lives. Well yeah, probably, but I’ll take the short term pros over that con.
4. The good guys finish last theory.

I just don’t know what the deal is, but my best guess is #4. We want what we can’t have, right? And I think I’m unintentionally becoming a can’t have. Friends, I’m not that special, and kind of mean, y u so interested?

You can classify all people you meet into one of two categories:

1. People that will immediately friend you on Facebook.
2. People that won’t.

A few nights ago I had a conversation with someone I met through mutual friends. Other than our mildly overlapping social circles, we had nothing in common. For some reason, however, I could tell he would send me the fated friend request. We all parted ways from dinner around 11:30 pm, and sure enough, at 2:43 am, I received the notification.

So what gave it away? I have no idea! Regardless I’m now going to over-analyze friend requesting.

Type 1 of People:

The On-Siter

This douche can’t even wait for the privacy of his own space to search you out. He obviously has a smart phone and really wants to show it off. He might be inspired to tell you all about its cool features even though it’s an iPhone and you have common sense and/or one yourself. He’s too chicken to actually ask for your number, so brings up the communication paradigm exaggerated by social networks in the 21st century to segue into instead asking you how to spell your last name so he can better stalk you.

The No-Patience Friender

This person, like my new friend, sends the request within hours of separation from your face to face encounter.

The most likely scenario is that he or she has been facebook stalking you for months (impossible! i have great privacy settings! WRONG) and now finally has an excuse to see what you Jullie X responded when you posted “I HOPE EVERYTHING’S OKAY KEEP ME POSTED SWEETIE!” (you wrote that, don’t lie). 

Your real encounter was fun because you both knew exactly who the other one was but pretended to stutter for a moment after introductions (Sarah, was it?). Occasionally this is completely acceptable especially if it’s that one from from Boston your other friends that all went to college together talk about ALL THE  TIME (she’s SO FUN!) but you’ve never actually met. You know the type.

The Acceptable Delayer

People actually establish a REAL LIFE RAPPORT. Then a few weeks or so later you come across a YouTube video that reminds you of your inside joke and you go to share when…what? where are you? ohhhhh.

The Late Comer

You’ve been mutual acquaintances for a while and the situation above never arose. One day while EXTREMELY bored the person comes up in the comments of the profile picture with a kind of famous guy. Request sent out of curiousity followed by a quick acceptance and resulting “OMG how were we not friends before!?” wall post.

The Hold Out

You “don’t friend people”. Neither do they. You enter an intense game of cyber chicken.

A Six-Step Plan for Blowing Off Tourists

The origin of this philosophy was actually from Washington D.C., so I thank the congressional aide to our south for imparting such wisdom upon me.

The only necessary disclaimer is that I am a  terrible photographer.

Seriously, I was extremely pleased with the advent of Facebook if for no other reason than that I no longer had to take pictures to remember the occasion (or have things to fill those horribly gifted frames I get three times a year). 

The sad reality is that any attempt at photography results in blurred images, cut off limbs, and the capture of unflattering facial expressions. 

Admittedly, ‘philosophy’ and ‘wisdom’ are probably a little too…distinguished…of words to describe the following:

Step 1: Tourist/friend/passerby asks you to take a picture of their group.

Step 2: You hesitate, knowing it will turn out terribly.

Step 3: You reluctantly agree, fearful of what will happen when they examine the photo in the picture viewer.

Step 4: You take the picture, it expectedly turns out badly.

Step 5: Awkward pause – do you wait to have them ask you to retake it? Will they even bother asking? Are they potentially blind and won’t be able to tell the difference?

I’m a rather impatient person so Step 5 always bothered me in this process. The good deed of the day was accomplished by even agreeing in the first part. Bonus points for the fact that I was even asked to assist in the first part – implying that I seem like a nice person, score!

When living in New York (and if you do you know this well), this situation is not uncommon. Despite my best abilities to avoid major tourist areas, they’re sneaky creatures and still appear out of nowhere, tapping you on the shoulder, and inciting Step 1.

Sick of this ordeal, and namely Step 5, I received an important bit of wisdom to deflect such awkwardness. Read closely as I give you…

Step 6: After snapping the photo, you glance at the photo viewer briefly (whether or not the real photo has loaded is irrelevant) and expressively say “Oh it’s really good, I promise!”

I recommend this for anyone, because it allows several things to happen:

Primarily, you now have the ability to make a swift exit from the situation, avoiding follow up photos, conversations on neighborhood dining suggestions, or attempting to explain the subway system to foreigners with [at best] broken English.

If you decide to ignore my advice to GTFO, Step 6 has additional benefits. If you’re like me and the picture was, in fact, not at all good, the unsuspecting tourists will promptly assume you’re crazy and not even consider asking you to retake the photo.

I’ve been relying on this method for just a few months now and it has already proven to be extremely useful. Now if I could just not look like a competent photo-taker and avoid said process all together…

…any suggestions?

Seeing as I was still sucking my thumb when the company went under (which was in 1991 for those interested), it’s understandable that my knowledge of the underlying causes isn’t cached between Mean Girls quotes and the J train weekday schedule in the “important stuff” area of my memory.

Why this consideration didn’t occur the first time the company presented itself in popular culture during my lifetime (love you Leo!) is beyond me. Now that the namesake show is airing weekly, however, said company downfall has been brought into conversation multiple times. It is unfortunate that, until this evening, I’ve yet to come back with a concisely accurate answer that exudes “how did you NOT know that” while ignoring the fact that I’d Wiki’d it ten minutes earlier on my smartphone.

On that note, Wikipedia smartly cites the company as a “defunct U.S. airline.” Clever. Obvious. BUT WHY!? TELL ME WHY!! 1973 Energy Crisis. Blame on Government Policies. Multiple failed mergers & acquisitions. More energy problems. More government blame. Blah blah blah. But then it gets interesting: TERRORISM! DANGER! BAD CUSTOMER SERVICE!

Short version and soundbite to make you sound intelligent at your next happy hour:

“Mismanagement, regulation, and economic turmoil led to the company’s financial collapse and ultimate downfall.”

Shorter version: they fucked up. Delta bought them out, at least parts that were still profitable. See? Don’t you feel enlightened? (Such is my mission, to augment the pool of pretentiousness by providing soundbites and saying “augment”).

In closing, please enjoy the following musical rendition of the aforementioned pop culture reference starring that guy from Gossip Girl and the ever amazing Norbert Leo Butz:

Your city, with your celebrities, and your sushi, you kind of suck.

Disclaimer: I’ve only been once. [obvious] Disclaimer: I love NY. Disclaimer: I had inflated expectations from 500 Days of Summer (where are you in my life JGL!?)

First, shush about the sushi. I don’t eat raw fish and don’t like it in New York either. Yea, yea, call me crazy - all of my friends do too. My aversion complicates things for those incredible all you can eat deals, but my inner alcoholic still appreciates the Sake. [try: chinatowneastnyc.com - it will take you back to freshman year frat parties in college].

Here’s the thing - the west coast attitude bothers me. Where is your stress? Where is your sense of urgency? Where is your resulting anxiety!?! Some of you might see this as a positive attribute, but try getting anything accomplished in Los Angeles. Making plans is impossible since people seem to think spontaneity and doing nothing are synonymous. 

Speaking of doing things - don’t try this either. Normal bars close at 2 a.m. (WHERE ARE YOU? BUM FUCK MICHIGAN?) and the extreme lack of public transportation makes going [exciting] places near impossible. I like to sing in the car as much as the next girl, but I much prefer my metro card to the insurance payment of a 20-something.

Speaking of 20-somethings: GET A JOB! What are you doing out and about at 3pm on a Thursday. Trying to “make it” while waiting for your shift at the Olive Garden to start at 5? I’m sorry that I don’t have any connections for you, but don’t blow me off because of it. I’ve met bankers nicer than you. Rude!

Things they don’t tell you in the tour guides: smog ruins plans, free shit doesn’t exist, the beaches are dirty. Don’t tell me LA is full of pretty people, because the plethora of cellulite I witnessed in Santa Monica was disturbing.

Oh, LA, I’m sure you have a lot to offer, and I will grant you the award for superior weather, but…do better.