I Love Gossip Girl and Don’t Care Who Knows It

Thanks to Netflix millions of us have happily succumbed to the dangers of having entire television series and movies at the touch of a remote. It was through this drug I stumbled upon Gossip Girl.

Chuck, Blair, Serena and NateGossip Girl, seeing the title gave me flashbacks to high school when the young adult book series was popular. It seemed like every girl carried around a copy of Cecily Von Zeigesar’s books like a hot accessory, but I was never really interested in reading them. Pictures of girls in plaid skirts whispering to each other above titles like All I Want Is Everything didn’t appeal to me at a time when I had Orwell and Golding chapters summaries to turn in for Lit.

Then the show came out. I was definitely-not-in-a-million-years allowed to watch it. We had strict TV standards in our house. The only shows we watched were Jeopardy, Survivor and The Amazing Race. A show like Gossip Girl with common themes of underage drinking and drug use would not last five minutes under my parent’s roof. Thus, all talk of “Blair” and “Serena” was something I was completely out of the loop on in high school.

Now, four years out of high school I find sucked into Von Zeigesar’s world of the Upper East Side. Why?

  • I’m sure part of it is a case of I-Gotta-Do-All-The-Things-I-Wasn’t-Allowed-To-Do-Growing-Up-itis.  It’s a pretty common condition among children with strict upbringings, but if my acting out is watching a show about social climbing teens, then I’d have to say that my case is fairly mild.
  • The Clothes! While Mad Men was the first show to draw me in strictly on costume design, it was the script and story line that kept me a loyal viewer through the seasons. With Gossip Girl, the clothes are definitely still a strong pull for me coming into season four. Part of the allure of Gossip Girl is the portrayal of these characters with ridiculously extravagant lives, and what the characters wearing is always going to play a big part in that.

 

  • The soundtrack. I love everything about it. They’ve had Florence and the Machine guest star along with others, and with bands like The Bravery, The Kooks, Cold War Kids playing in the background, of course I fell in love!

 

  • The subtle nods to literature and classic movies. I appreciate that all the episode titles are plays on works of literature or popular films, such as The Serena Also Rises and Damien Darko. Also, one of Blair’s redeeming qualities (and she doesn’t have many) is her appreciation of classic movies. There are a few episodes that begin in Miss.  Waldorf’s nightmares which are almost always plays on old movies like My Fair Lady, Breakfast at Tiffany’s and Wait Until Dark.
  • Chuck Bass. ’nuff said.

My poor husband married me thinking I had a high standard for quality entertainment (which I still believe is true!), he’s had to learn that every girl needs her cheesy, totally-predictable, unbelievable, soap opera dramatic, chick-flick shows to watch. He’s also getting pretty excited that almost done  with all the episodes of Gossip Girl (too bad he doesn’t know I have Pretty Little Liars next on the queue!)

You know you love me,

XOXO

Honestly Modest 😉

From California Girl to Pittsburgher

The best thing about moving is starting over.  I loved the “clean slate” feeling.  I loved the fact that nobody knew me.  Nobody asked me what I was planning to do with my education degree.  I don’t find myself explaining that between the limits of my degree and utter lack of desire to explain punctuation to ungrateful high-schoolers, teaching is no where in my near future. (Looks like I got that off my chest! haha)

On the other hand, there’s the part of moving where I have to figure out where everything is.  Luckily, I had my husband to show me around, but Pittsburgh was quite a move.  I realized that I had to not only get used to a new city, but a new culture.

pittsburgh

  • Sports culture.  For the small time that I cleaned houses, I came to the conclusion that everyone has framed picture of some Pittsburgh stadium in their home. I’ve never lived somewhere with such loyalty to local teams. Californians don’t like one specific team when it comes to anything. Not everyone in San Diego was a Chargers fan, not all people in LA like the Dodgers etc.
  • Driving. I live off William Flynn Hwy, that ‘s what all the signs say anyway. Nobody calls it William Flynn Hwy.  They call it Route 8. I have yet to see any signs that say Route 8. Whatever.  Not to mention the lack of left turn lanes. As a newbie driver, there is nothing more terrifying than stopping my car with my left turn signal on  as cars maneuver their way around me at  forty miles per hour while I wait for a break in traffic big enough to make my turn. Not to mention the fact that now I have to worry about deer jumping in front of my car when I drive home from work, that’s definitely a first.
  • City pronunciation. Not too far from where I live are the cities of Carnegie and Versailles. Carnegie is not pronounced like Andrew Carnegie, or like a Carnegie Library, it is instead pronounced car-NEG-ee.  One would also assume that Versailles is pronounced just like the palace in France. False. It’s said ver-SAILS.
  • Talking the Talk. I really don’t know everything about the “Pittsburgh accent”, but there are some things I have noticed:

– the long O’s. “So, I went hoooome at four-thirty.”

– It’s not “you guys” or “y’all” it’s “yins”. For real.

– The sentences that sound like questions. Some people have this upward inflection at the end of their sentences. It makes “You went to the gym already” sound like “You went to the gym already?”

And, I love it here! It is beautiful. Every route is a scenic route. The people are really nice (When I’m not wearing my Dodger shirt anyway.) Pittsburgh is a great city; I’m excited to make a life here.

What are some new things you had to get used to after moving?

Word count: 340 Draft saved at 9:38:41 pm. Last edited by honestlymodest on September 24, 2013 at 7:00 pm

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Sorry For Being “That Woman Driver”

woan driver

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Everything has a history. Here’s this one.

 

 

First Attempt

Eighteen. In my defense, family rule was no driving before eighteen. So there I am, nervous and scared out of my mind, A cross, matronly woman steps out with a clipboard and sat in my passenger seat. My first goal is to pull out of the DMV and merge into traffic. Now, I had read somewhere that  hesitation is the number one reason people fail the driving test, hesitation isn’t what failed me. Nope. It was eagerness. I see my shot and take it. The car behind me slams on their brakes. My next goal was to turn right back into the DMV where I started.

Failure: Dangerous Maneuvers (I didn’t mind telling people about this one because it sounded very Jason Statham-ish)

 

Second Attempt

A couple of weeks later. A younger, nicer-looking woman gets into the passenger seat. I make it out of the DMV. “I might actually have a shot at passing this!” I think to myself. Then I start daydreaming about what I’m going to do with all this freedom I’m going to have. I hear the instructor say “Turn left here.” I glance up, see a green light, and start turning left. I think I’m doing great until I hear a honk, a scream, and the instructor takes the steering wheel away from me. Guess that’s what happens when you skim over the “right-of-way” page on the manual.

Failure: Intervention by the instructor. (Not as cool-sounding as Failure 1, so I’m not too keen on telling this story)

 

Third Attempt

A couple of months later. A very young, Asian guy comes out. He skips a lot of the preliminary questions. “Yes! I got this!” I think to myself, again. I make it out of the DMV and a successful left turn. I’m in the right turning lane.

“I want you to go straight” he says.

I point straight ahead, “Like ‘over there’ straight?”

“Yes. Straight”

“You sure?” I ask.

He nods.

I drive straight through the intersection, right over the large white arrow pointing right.

Failure: Lane Violation (I still think the Asian man tricked me. Shouldn’t have counted)

(And he took my permit away)

(And, I might have cried all the way home)

 

–Three Years Later—

 

Fourth Attempt

Twenty-one. Pretty boring story. I passed!

 

Now

I’ll end this post by apologizing to all the competent and experienced drivers I’ve made angry in the past two years.  I  have not mastered merging and switching lanes, but I have mastered the apologetic wave and the mouthed ‘sorry’ in the rear view mirror. Sorry!

 

Mean Things I Say to the Dog, But Hopefully Never to My Children

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Note: I’m not a dog-hater, and this was written exclusively for humor

It’s a really good thing you’re cute, cause you’re really dumb

As I’m eating   “Why are you smiling? You’re not getting any.”

“You are the stupidest dog there ever was.”

“That’s it! You’re getting neutered!”

“Shut up! Breaking Bad is on!”

“Move, you flea-infested animal!”

“Fight! Fight! Fight!”

On the Married Life

Forty-two days. That’s how long I’ve been a married woman. I’m a newbie to this whole spending-the-rest-of-my-life-with-someone game. One of the biggest transitions has to be the single to married transition.

They say when you get back from the honeymoon reality hits you hard. If this is true, I didn’t feel it because I had “honeymoon hangover” (not literally, calm down!) After a week of living in marital bliss and fairy tale optimism, and of course some of that still lingered as we started our life together.  I had intentions of being “super-wife”, and for the first few weeks I think I did a good job. 

Just about every morning my husband wakes up at six a.m., takes a shower, gets dressed, and heads to the kitchen. During my “super wife” stage I would head to the kitchen with him and make his lunch (turkey sandwich with Miracle Whip and lettuce on multi-grain bread), drink coffee, and watch some Fox News with him before he left for work. After that, I would groggily make my way back to the room and lie in bed with my eyes wide open (stupid coffee!) until I actually had to be awake. I kept this up for a while, and I was pretty proud of myself. Until I slowly stopped doing it as often, and as often turned into altogether. So pray for me and my lack of character.  

I love cuddling. After two years of dating/ being suffocated with supervision nothing makes me happier than to sit on our red couch with my husband.  Usually we’ll sit and watch something heartwarming and romantic like the Walking Dead; his arm will be around me, my legs will be on his lap.  Now it’s happened once or twice that he’ll stroke my leg as it’s laying on his lap and summon a Rebel Wilson impression to inform me of my prickly legs. Sigh. Gone are the days of hiding stubbly legs under tights and boots ( same goes for ugly chonies.) On the bright side, it does mean that someone appreciates my smooth legs when I go through the trouble of shaving. 

I’m a marriage rookie.  I love every minute of it.