Tag Archives: Fighting without Shame

It’s a Little Thing I Like to Call Karma

So, they say karma’s a bitch. Probably not so much because she’s mean, but because she’s so freakin relentless. She’s inescapable, and for anyone who thinks they’re above reproach, you’ll be hit the hardest. Not that I’ve become a devout Buddhist and all, but if you do bad things, you will inevitably have bad things happen to you. And here is where I’d like to begin my story.

I went to Williams-Sonoma this week to buy a shower gift for my cousin Fallon. If you’ve never been to Boston’s Copley Place mall, it’s where Fancy goes to have lunch with her girlfriends Entitled and Oblivious. I worked at the J.Crew there for 6 months while I was in grad school, and I once had a woman literally throw thousands of dollars worth of clothing over her shoulder at me as she rattled off that she could be shopping at Barney’s. So these are the kind of people we’re dealing with. Just painting a picture.

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This Weekend, I Lost My Corn Hole Title to a Beginner

Aunt Donna stealing my skills.

You all know how competitive I am. Maybe not as competitive as one Nicole Schulz Turnbull, who likes to tackle first basemen and pretty much anyone who’s going to tag her out, but competitive to all hell. And while in high school my sports were mainly volleyball and basketball, as an adult my passions have been turned toward a game of skill, poise and mental toughness. A gentleman’s game, if you will: Corn Hole.

For the past two years, I have taken the Eastern Long Island Corn Hole Title by ousting my entire family in two-on-two, single-elimination play. Taking. Them. Down. Yes, the competition has been steep. Not all the games have been easy. Last year I had to come from behind against Uncle Mike by sinking three holes-in-one in a row. In. A. Row. You can’t teach this kind of talent. However, this weekend, a player came to the field that had otherwise refrained from Corn Hole practices. Her name is Donna Turnbull. And she has now become my nemesis.

Out of nowhere, Aunt Donna decides she’s going to “try it out.” She couldn’t hit the board at first. Drawing people in to play against her. Then she starts sinking bean bags left and right, knocking the other team’s bags off the board, pretending to be all innocent. If I was a betting girl, I’d say she’s just been watching and calculating all these years, waiting to make her move. She hustled us. I’m sure of it.

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Filed under The Funny Thing About Family Is That You'll Always Be Related, Wide World Of Sports, WORST Things Ever

Bikers’ Rights! And Other Reasons Why I Could Never be a Hipster

Hipsters Patrick and Brian. It's Patrick's birthday, and to celebrate Brian wore the American flag. Obvi.

Last weekend was magical. I headed to Brooklyn by way of the Lower East Side to celebrate the impending nuptials of one Miss Katie Poff. We ate barbecue, we went shopping, we laid out by the pool, we even watched some episodes of Laguna Beach on DVD.

After watching the sun set over the East River and behind the skyline of Manhattan we did some shots of Goldschlager and headed out to the bars. It was at this exact moment that I was almost rundown by a violent hipster bike-rider who was angry that I had so brazenly taken my stroll into the bike lanes of the unreasonably wide Williamsburg roadways. “Bikers’ rights!” he yelled as he whizzed past me, ringing a bell situated on top of his handlebars. “I’m pretty sure I’m allowed to exist anywhere!” I screamed, adjusting the bachelorette masquerade mask on top of my head and refusing to move. My indignation then led me to actually run into a swerving hipster who just so happened to get caught up in the fracas. “That was dick of me, I’m sorry,” I told her. She just shook her head. Let the hipster hating begin.

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Filed under Around Town, WORST Things Ever