Pay phones are sooo 20th Century.

I. Have. Been. Busy.

I started a new full-time position as a *really important sounding title that I still wonder how I got* for a super great social service nonprofit, am contracted as an event planner for a March fundraising gala, and am an assistant coach for the high school speech team. Plus, with my inability to say no, remain on two volunteer committees and do some freelance writing.

I now know why people hire personal assistants. The gay, gay, super-gay male kind. (I totally need help designing my holiday office decorating and have frequent internal debates about office-appropriate attire.)

So, between imbibing caffeine, falling in love with my under-eye concealer, and making friends with the foreign cleaning lady at work because, well, "You still heah?" (in polish accent...did that sound like a polish accent? Hmm...try it out loud? Maybe I went too Asian.)...I've found it hard to find time to post my social witticisms. Or spend time with my friends and Boyfriend. Or sleep, for that matter.

There's something like working 60+ hours a week that really kills your desire to flit from party to party. But you know, it took me about a month (we'll call November "the lost month.") to re-adjust from a "lady who lunches" schedule to a "conference call/working lunch lady." [Don't read that wrong, I'm not a lunch lady. I just...like to describe myself with lunches?] I finally got a little bit better at balancing my schedule(s), but still need a *lot* of work.

This happens to all of us at some point, or at multiple points, in our lives. We struggle to juggle (overlook that rhyme...) all of our priorities, friends, engagements, family. We all get overwhelmed. Which, might I remind you, causes forehead wrinkles. Which I've started to notice.

So gather round, friends, and I'll tell you a social tale of horrific proportions in hopes you can learn from my mistakes:

After my first week of work, I was really looking forward to a relaxing weekend. On Friday night, (even though all I wanted to do was go home to a nice dinner, maybe tea, couch, swedish massage and lavish chocolates, etc) I donned my butterfly wings and prepared for THREE parties that night: birthday, housewarming, going away.

I left work late, had to run to Trader Joe's for a housewarming gift, orchestrated meeting Boyfriend at birthday party. He was late and forgot the gift, which I had to have him swing by and pick up since I had to work late. Social faux pas number one: Enter bday party sans gift. Quickly hurry through bday drinks to jump in the car and hightail it to housewarming party half an hour away. BF and I drive separate, get lost (separately), my phone dies, I have to resort to asking for a pay phone at a gas station.

Apparently, we're in the 21st century and if I wanted to find a payphone I'd have to visit a history museum. So, determined not to miss a party, I drove through a dark, winding, hilly neighborhood for 45 minutes. In tears of frustration and exhaustion. Having to pee.

Lost for what else to do, I started going into each individual complex of town homes and searching the digital address registry. After three tries -- and a misunderstanding in which one apt thought I was delivering the chinese -- I gave up and left without attending party, even though I RSVP'ed. Social Faux Pas Number 2. Still tear-streaked and sans phone or boyfriend, I finally drove to my last stop of the evening, the going away party. Tired, hungry, and having no desire to be the life of the party (which is...huge.), I resigned myself to pleasant conversation and the couch...and, Social Faux Pas #3, left after 30 mins.

Moral of the story: Common personality traits of social butterflies are that we *love* to have fun and we *hate* to disappoint. However, when we try to please everyone, we just end up disappointing ourselves and/or everyone else.

One of the hardest things for us to do is not only to say NO to a fabulous social engagement, but schedule FREE TIME for ourselves. Don't sacrifice your friendships or your sanity just so you can make an appearance at everything. Your commitments should not get you committed. (I'm sure "social hour" in the psych ward does NOT include canapes and cocktails. At least not the alcoholic kind.)

And, I'll say it, for good reason (but I'll only say it once): Saying no to a party is okay. Every now and then we need our beauty sleep. What good is a social butterfly who can't properly socialize because she's falling asleep mid-convo (or mid-make out, depending on your agenda.)?!

So - WRITE IN "night in" in your planner for rejuvenation.

Then hit your social scene hard, but remember that quantity does not equal quality. You'll be able to spend more QT with the host/hostess/guest of honor/random guy by the hummus platter and get in more ipod requests when you concentrate your efforts. Flitting unsuccessfully does no one any good, especially for those of us who are unforgivably hard on ourselves.

Let me clarify. I'm not going against my basic fundamentals here: I still LOVE a party. And believe we should all spread our social wings. We just shouldn't spread them too thin.

oxox MB the SB

Social Etiquette 101

I vividly remember myself at the age of 6 begging my parents to let me put on my party dress, stay up past my bedtime, and help serve hors d'oeurves to all the "funny people" at their annual Christmas party. Now that I'm older, I know that "funny" translates to "drunk" and my parents granted this request because, hey, free labor.


Being a part of my parents' parties really warmed up my social butterfly wings. My dad is really intense about being gracious, and my mom is just intense. (love you mom!). So along with their penchant for socializing, they drilled in an understanding of what it means to be a good hostess, and an even better guest. Because I was so in tune to social ettiquette at a young age (read: sober), I learned a lot. But even I can forget the most basic social graces at times, so I'm bringing us back to basics -- SOCIAL ETIQUETTE 101.


For the host/hostess throwing an event:

Do: Send paper invitations. Even though technology constantly pushes us to do digital, who doesn't love mail?! If it is for a less formal event, I guess an e-vite is acceptable, but only followed up with a personal phone call. Especially for a more formal or expensive event, a paper invitation lets your guests know that you mean business. Er, party.

Do: Make sure that all diets are accounted for when coming up with a menu for your guests: gluten-free, dairy-free, vegetarian, vegan, sugar-free, fruitarian (?!). All of these terribly health-conscious items need to make an appearance on one platter or another, despite your boyfriend's insistence that Doritos, jalepeno cream-cheese poppers, and Jewel cookies are sufficient to serve your guests right out of the container they came in.

Do: Theme! Oh, my. I do love a theme...I've got the costumes and props to prove it.

Do: Circulate. These people came for a reason. (Ignore the fact that it was probably for the free food and beer.) Whether or not you're celebrating yourself, your friend, your spouse, your child, or for no reason: you are the hostess who has graciously invited everyone to join you in celebration. Therefore, make sure you say hello, goodbye, entertain, and *always* thank them for coming.

Don't: Skimp on food or drink. Things can always be returned, and a bonus of hosting the party is eating (drinking?) the leftovers the next day while you nurse your hangover (...or in my six year old case, pulling something ready-made out of the fridge because mommy and daddy are still sleeping and I've already watched The Nutcracker with no sound three times.) Plus, when providing alcohol it is so important to have enough food. As a hostess, your main priorities need to be the enjoyment AND safety of your guests.

Don't: Be the drunkest person at your own party. The only get-out-of-jail-free card on this is if it's your birthday. But...not if you *really* end up in jail. Then, you're really just in jail. On your birthday. Drunk.

Don't: Exclude people, make out with someone else in front of your significant other, start a fight, serve jungle juice out of a plastic storage bin, let someone fall asleep in their car with the keys in the ignition because the *will* get a DUI, or leave your own party to go to the bars.

I'll save Guest Etiquette (sometimes even more important than hostess etiquette) for my next post, since now I've lost you to reminscing about that time you made out with someone else in front of your significant other, started a fight, served or drank jungle juice out of a plastic storage bin, let someone fall asleep in their car, or left your own party to go to the bars.

The best part about social etiquette? Practice makes perfect! So party on.

Instant Solution

Sure ... there is a circle of life. When something ends, another begins.

But what about when something you ended begins again? And it's...GASP...not the same?!!

In high school, I over-involved and over-achieved, and one of my biggest commitments (and obsessions) was the speech team. Yeah, yeah...guffaw, guffaw.

But some of my best friendships and most marketable assets were cultivated while a member of this team. Speech team meant this: 6 am bus rides on a Saturday, suits and heels, sharing your message with a room of people, laughing, crying, and, of course, winning. Nude hose were sacriligious and lipstick was not an option. We were talented and we had fun.

When I signed on as the assistant speech team coach today (so. freakin. excited.), I had to fight back a lot of nostalgia. I found a little bit of who I am on my former speech team. We were a family of 124 members that experienced joy and pain, huge success and *extreme* loss. As we used to say, speech team was more than words.

Well, when I returned to my high school this afternoon for our first team meeting ...I was at a loss for words. The over 120 person team is now...20. The team office is now...dirty storage closet. And lipstick seems not only optional, but not even encouraged. I know, I know. Please. Silence your outrage.

Beside myself, I did my best "compose yourself" speech team move and fidgeted throughout the haphazard meeting (w/0 agenda!) till the coaches met together. Another coach and myself have been brought on this year to help the team re-build, and he was a breath of fresh air. I hope that together we can make the speech team illicit the same respect it once did.

I understand that things change. Groups change, people change. Things change. (For someone who cried when the wood-burning stove got switched for a newer one at my grandparents' house, this is hard for me to accept.) And, you know, even part of a [social] butterfly's life is metamorphosis.

When trying to avoid a second date with some rando guy last year, I rattled of some social events for my various clubs and associations. Membership was down, we had exchange students...I stepped in and planned a cocktail hour meet and greet, an italian aperitivo, and coffee dates. He looked at me, bemused, and said: "So what you're telling me...is that when there is a crisis, your solution is to throw a party."

He may have been a boring accountant who ate sushi with a fork, but hell, not even I could have said it better.

So, socials, I'm going to do what I do best: throw a party.

And then get down to business.

Who Do You Know?!

I grew up hearing about how hard work, determination, and academic prowess (and maybe a little mascara and a well-timed smile) can help you achieve your dreams. Getting ahead was about the best woman getting the glory. Work hard. You'll get the corner office, tons of vacation days, and everything you ever dreamed of (huge house w/backyard, handsome husband, sprawling walk-in closet). All because you put in your time getting good grades and scoring high.

I also thought babies were delivered to you by a beam of light at the altar at your wedding while a chorus of angels sang, and that if I had a boyfriend, I would never, never, ever disagree with him.

...Clearly delusional.

I'm not, in any way, trying to down-play the sense of accomplishment and the achievement that come from hard work. [Believe me, I was the girl in college who made a color-coded spreadsheet of her professor's office hours (and attended them) and had the coffee pot going in the morning before our sorority house cook arrived.] I got into graduate school on a full-ride (insert self-aggrandizing pat on the back), studied abroad twice, and graduated at 24 with a masters degree.

And -- believe it or not, people -- I *didn't* have someone banging down my door with a job as soon as the diploma hit my palm. Countless hours of studying, beating my brains out for A's, a stellar resume and about 35 job applications later....NADA. And I'm not the only one. Of everyone who I graduated with in May, no one has a full-time job yet.

Hmmm...who can we blame for this. I guess I can blame our usual scapegoats, the economy and/or the media. Maybe my parents? But really, I shouldn't blame anyone for instilling a strong work ethic. However, the sense of entitlement that a job would just be handed to me needs to get tossed out the window and crash through the narcissism reflected there. Really though...we need to blame ourselves for not using our greatest skill!!

Flutter not, SB's. We have a one-up that, in conjunction with our dedication to being the best, makes us unstoppable:

SOCIAL SKILLS.

I may not be making a decent income, but I certainly have capital. SOCIAL capital. The connection between people and social networks. Robert Putnam, author of Bowling Alone, argues that America's decline in social capital stems from the decline of participation in...wait for it...BOWLING LEAGUES.

Don't freak out and go buy a bowling ball and those awful shoes. What he means is that people aren't joining clubs anymore, no leagues. By not participating in group activities, clubs, and networks, we are digging ourselves a hole into the ground. A lonely one. We aren't exercising our socialability! (Did I make that word up? Whatevs.) In a world where I can sit at my computer alone on a Thursday morning, sipping coffee out of a fish mug and typing this instead of calling you all up to meet somewhere for coffee and laughs, participating in an activity together falls to the wayside.

As social butterflies, we can remedy this. I made Boyfriend join a local membership organization with me in our community. And we have gotten *very* involved! We've volunteered for plenty of community events (read: wine fests), where we've put our volunteer efforts to good use (read: finished off the left overs with the other volunteers). We joined committees, took on projects, and within no time had lots of friends (read: drinking buddies and potential employers).

And GUESS WHAT. Within a month of joining this group, one of our fellow members who sat as Board Chair on a nonprofit's Board of Directors gave me insight to a new fundraising job available with that np organization. He made a call, I have an interview.


Okay, okay, ulterior motives such as drinking and employment aside, we really have enjoyed getting to know peers in the community who share our passion for socializing, doing well, and doing good. I really do want to encourage you to become more SOCIAL. Get involved in community groups, volunteer, attend an art event with friends, sign up for a flag football league called "We Pound Hard" (I didn't do that, just an example, a simple example....). How can you say no to more friends, a fuller social calendar, and another drink? Say yes.


Because it's not what you know, it's who you know. And people want to know you.

Traveling in Social Style

Well, socials, I've been negligent. I've ignored this blog as much as I did the snaggle-toothed kid with bad breath who asked me out in college with the pick-up line: "Do you like beef?"

I've since become a vegetarian.

Summer is winding down (and the City entered its hottest month yet), so I thought I'd sum(mer) up with some Social Butterfly traveling tips. Hopefully this encourages you to be your fabulous and social self no matter where your summer -- and future travel -- takes you.

1. I like to rack up my number. Of points, that is. Southwest, United, American...they all have rewards programs so you can fly free. Hotels, like Hilton and Marriot, also have rewards programs, which give you points every time you stay at one of their hotels. I traveled at the beginning of the month, and thanks to my family's excessive Marriot points, we were able to stay in a three-room, Presidential suite for five nights. FOR FREE. The only thing I like better than a suite is a free suite.

2. When on the plane, choose a seat next to someone who looks like they'll be entertaining. Younger or older, plane conversation has the potential to be interesting/awkwardly amusing. (ex: [plane mate to me]: "I hate when people clap when the plane lands. I mean, come on! The pilot's just doing his job. Do I clap for the barista every time he makes my drink right? Hell no. It's their damn job.")

AND BONUS FOR YOU: If you meet someone around your age that's cute, single, and seemingly not a will-follow-you-back-to-your-hotel-room-and-murder-you psycho who happens to be staying in the same city as you, make plans to meet at the hotel bar or near by restaurant. What happens in [location], stays in [location].


However, banter can sometimes get you into trouble. I have a friend who, no matter where she flies, always gets hit on, mistaken as married to the person next to her in the terminal, or even worse, mistaken as the mother of the children she has just met. In order to halt conversation, she should really perfect the stop, drop, and roll: STOP talking. DROP your gaze. The next time he/she says something, ROLL your eyes.

For emergencies only.

3. However, when choosing plane seats, avoid over-sharers. Usually aisle-sitters (this is strategic. aisle seats have the most people surrounding them aka more people within hearing range) are *extreme* over-sharers. An overshare includes, but is not limited to, those delightful tidbits such as: "I just broke-up/got divorced/came out of the closet." or "I have [some terrible STD]/H1N1/IBS and forgot to take my medication today." or "I'm a three-time platinum member of the mile-high club."

TMI calls for another drink.

4. Lost luggage = tragedy for all involved. Make sure you always carry-on the essentials: Clinique all about eyes for reducing those puffs after the flight, any glasses or contacts, toothbrush, change of clothes, swimsuit. That way, even if you have to wait for your luggage, you have at least three outfits. (the one you're wearing, the change, and most importantly -- the swimsuit.) If you can fit a floppy hat in your carry on, then extra two points for you.

5. Be kind and courteous to all hotel staff. Aside from being gracious, this good behavior may score you a free drink/breakfast/pool-side cabana.

If staying in someone's home and not at a hotel, charm your hosts. They're putting you up with room and board. Make sure they don't leave the room, bored. Share your interesting travel stories and overheard over-shares from the plane. And before you leave, make sure you write a small thank you note and be sure to leave a host or hostess gift. Social graces, people.

6. A good Social Butterfly always has social engagements during travel. Be it drinks with your business travel partner or a trip to the museum on your hour off, the SB knows how to handle her (or his?) free time in a new place. If you have friends in the area -- even better. Locals can usually come to you if you're hotel-bound, and probably know the area hot-spots. Make plans before you leave and enjoy a night on the town with friends!

Any more tips from our readers? All...eight of you?? :) (Who I dearly love.)

"I'd take a bullet for my Coach purse."

When social events go wrong (terribly, terribly wrong), I feel it's best to find the silver lining. After last night, we found more than that: we came home with a gift card unused, laughter, justice, and a whole slew of friends who go by the name of, oh you know, just the "City Police."


My roommate, Future Lawyer, and I decided to celebrate the close of our summer in the city by treating ourselves to a nice dinner and some sangria in a boutique part of town. (Thanks to restaurants.com, I had a prime gift certificate for $25 that I paid $2 for -- check it out.) Since it was a nice evening, we chose a table on the narrow, but gated, patio outside. Finished with appetizers and our first round of sangria long-gone, we started to order dinner. All of a sudden, before I knew what was happening, a guy ran up behind Future Lawyer, reached over the guard rail, and started to grab her Coach purse off the table. Realizing what was happening, she jumped up and tried to wrench it back, but he pushed her arm away and the strap broke...the thief still had the goods.

While I sat there stunned and began yelling, Future Lawyer *JUMPS THE FENCE* and starts running after him. Screaming bloody murder. I mean... in case her law career doesn't work out right away, she should really tap into the thriller industry. Because those sound bites are gold. And lemme tell you why. Not only did Future Lawyer's incessant and blood-curdling screams draw a crowd of bystanders, she summoned a squad car from a neighboring block.

So Future Lawyer is chasing this creep down a wide alley across from the restaurant (still in shock over that...what if he had a gun?! hell, even a butter knife and I'd back down.) meanwhile screaming "HELLLLP MEEE!! COME BAAAACK!!" (of which I got a big kick out of: "Sure lady, I'll come back. (hands back Coach). Truce??"). All sudden a cop car comes racing around the corner in the direction of her screams. Seeing it coming, Future Lawyer waves them down to where the creepo turned the corner, stopped short by an apartment building. The scene was in perfect view the whole time, but having explained to the restaurant manager what had happened, I crossed the street to stand by F.L. as the cops cuffed the jerkface. One officer approached the two of us, asking us to verify what happened as they shoved him in back of the squad car. The officer's hand was bleeding from the apprehension, and when F.L. explained what happened, he "suggested" we amend the story so that the theif had pushed her as well -- "because this guy needs to do time." No need for suggestion -- when she tried to wrench back the purse, he indeed had pushed her wrist. At hearing this, the officer -- no joke -- did a fist pump and shouted "YEAH!" (grown man.)
Later we found out that move would seal Creepo's fate: because he used force, it became the highest form of a robbery/felony.

With another show of bravado, F.L. walked by the cop car, saw Creepo in the backseat, and stated some rather choice words, accompanied with the appropriate hand gesture. If this girl's like this on the street, can you imagine her in the court room?! Now that's the kind of business law representation I want. Serious balls.

My later-to-be Favorite officer emerged from the bushes with the Coach, slightly worse for wear but its contents still in tact. Still trying to control our shaking, F.L. and I looked behind us to the street, and to our surprise saw four more squad cars and about 10 officers, all in bullet proof vests. The officers getting in the car with Creepo started laughing and whooping with delight (read: like four year olds at a bday party getting their goody bags) that he had been apprehended. F.L. and I got thrown in the back of a police Escalade and started barrelling down streets with the sirens on, disregarding stop lights and speed bumbs as we entered the police cavalcade towards the station. Now that everyone was safe and it turned out all right, F.L. and I turned to each other and could not stop laughing...

Why don't cameras follow us?!!

We arrived at the the City Police Station, and as our driver escorted us in, an officer walking out greeted him with, "Hey, Sarge." As in...Sargeant. As in...we were in the City Police Force Sargeant's 'Scalade. As in....we're FAMOUS.

Once in the station, we were escorted to the waiting room (where there were an abundance of stains on the seats and the floors...I'm sure Martha could have had a field day had she done time in this particular facility). Because of F.L.'s show of bravery and her potent screams, we were quickly becoming the most talked about thing in the station, and every five minutes or so, a different officer would nonchalantly walk by the waiting room, see us, and turn around.
THREE HOURS LATER...we had gotten interviewed, we waited. The purse contents were photographed and evidenced, we waited. The detective informed us the perpetrator's story was that he had been "provoked" to stealing the purse because we called him the N word (I mean, we're from Bubble outside the City. That word would never leave our lips), we waited. F.L. signed a statement, we waited. We were offered an award from the police department by My Favorite officer, obviously we accepted, we waited.

Finally, everything said and done, My Favorite came around the corner and said we were free to go. Not wanting to take public transportation, we asked for a ride. Preferrably in a squad car. With lights. My Favorite said he was on it, turned the corner, and five minutes later brought back two uniformed officers that were "His Guys." As His Guys got out the keys, My Favorite shook our hands and said, 'Ladies, it was a pleasure. Let's do this again, but under different circumstances.' Sigh. I'm such a sucker for nice people with a title. As His Guys led us out the door, My Favorite called after them: "Take care of my beauties!" Mmmm...Total crush.

Safely back home thanks to our police escort (first and last time I ever hope to ride in the *back seat* of a squad car), we rode the elevator upstairs, poured ourselves a large glass of wine, and thanked our lucky stars our (eventful) lives had not been compromised.

Note to self: Always scream. CARRY CAMERA.

Sweat, Scots, Sake, and Sushi (in that order)

I had a pretty big Monday.

Working for a wedding planner, I typically have most of the week off and spend my weekends tying bows, freshening up the best man before his toast, and staving off come-ons from photographers and dj's during our vendor meal in the back. My leisurely weeks leave me plenty of time to be a social butterfly -- but that might soon change!

Yesterday I had an interview with a nonprofit for their fundraising gala planner position. I'm the perfect person for a job like that. (Okay, I might be *slightly* bias.) The director scheduled the interview for noon, and I spent my morning preparing and primping. Since the office was a short three blocks from my apartment, I thought I'd give myself 15 minutes to walk over. Well, of course, I left my place with ten minutes to spare, realized I'd potentially ruin my Michael Kors stilettos while trying to haul *ss, ran back in to get flip flops, and had three blocks to run with 7 minutes left.

I made it to the building, drenched in sweat. (It's summer! And I'm a sweat-er.) So I hop on the elevator, hoping the ride will allow me to calm (dry?) myself. Too preoccupied with the beads of water rolling down my back, I missed my floor and got off three floors up from where I had my interview. Insert sweaty gross girl, now BACK in stilettos, running down six flights of stairs, barrelling through the door, panting...trying to calmly enter the office with one minute till interview time. The receptionist called the director to announce my arrival. As the director rounded the corner, she smiled, we shook hands, and she said, obviously noticing my state and probably thinking I had just run a few hurdles: "...Can I get you some ice water?"

Hmm. Not the first question I was hoping to be asked in the interview. As she led me back to her office, I nonchalantly grabbed a tissue from the receptionist's desk in order to blot. Later, I noticed I had a piece of tissue stuck to my neck....throughout the *entire* interview. It's fine. Let's hope the director chalked me up as endearingly neurotic.

Once I recovered from that episode, I met my sorority daughter, Model, for my favorite time of day: HAPPY HOUR! A sushi place in the busy part of downtown has half price rolls and really good drinks. As she and I sat down to catch up on the *two years* that had passed since we had seen each other last, I saw a shaggy-haired, tall male approaching our table holding a big plastic bag. When I lived in Europe, people like this would frequently come into dining establishments and go table to table trying to sell wares like tissues and socks. (Why tissues and socks?! I don't know. But seriously, it was always tissues and socks. Maybe this guy got the MO on my sweat problem.) He said hello, and I looked at Model, ready to whip out the "get rid of the homeless guy" skills I had honed in Italy. But she got up and *hugged* him. I mean, I hadn't seen her for two years...maybe she was in on the tissues and socks?

But it turned out to be the bartender from the hotel bar she cocktails at, and he brought friends -- her manager and the Glenlivet rep from Scotland. Hey-o!! Relieved I didn't have to begrudgingly buy a pack of Kleenex, we ordered sake bombs all around. Truly, there's nothing like hearing the Japanese chant "Sake, Sake, Sake...BOMB!" in a Scottish accent. We entertained each other while indulging in more bombs, some beer, and plenty of sushi. Probably egged on by our rousing chants, our waiter brought over a round of mango shots for all.

What I learned: leave early, carry a pocket fan, everything sounds better in an accent, and never assume a guy with crazy hair carrying a plastic bag is peddling tissues and socks.