The Five Types Of Friends You Don’t Want At Your Wedding

There are a couple that should be left out…for your sanity.

Weddings are always a big talking point in a young woman’s life. Not always, but the girls and guys that decide that marriage is for them. What kind of dress, how many people, and who is invited are always big dinner conversations while preparing for the wedding. So, who do you invite? How about the people that make you happy, and the ones that love you and your fiancé. There are a couple that should be left out…for your sanity.

The Negative Nancy

Girl, you know this one is your catty BFF who you kind of love, but obviously love to hate. This friendship should have died when double popped collars went out of style, but you held on like some people hang on to the acid wash jean trend. She may or may not have a significant other, but she is worse when she has her own relationship. Especially if she hasn’t gotten the ring yet. Nancy just can’t seem to let go of the fact that you are getting married and never going to hang out with her again. She’ll whine and complain about your fiancé taking all of your time. Although she may have her own love she still makes you feel like crap when it comes to your wedding. She’ll make passive aggressive comments and try to work herself into the wedding by saying things like, “I’m going to get so drunk at your wedding!” My advice about this one? Tell her your busy…forever.

The Non-Believer

Much like the Negative Nancy, the non-believer is just as terrible. I’m talking about a girl or guy who has lost their mind completely. They think that their way of life, the single life, is the only way and you are making a huge mistake. Excuse me, but I don’t judge when you sleep with three men in a weekend…in fact I applaud you. This friend says things like, “I don’t believe in the institution of marriage, and you’re dumb to get married.” To this, I say…do you, but you can’t sit with us.

Your Overprotective Guy/Girl Friend

Maybe you had a fling, you dreamed of one…either way, stay away from that train wreck. Why? Do I have to even…okay? If this person is invited, they’re going to get super drunk and try to punch your new husband/wife. Even if they are well-behaved, it will bring up all sorts issues with your judgemental friends as well as your husband or wife. In the nicest way possible, you’re an idiot if you invite them. Purely for the fact that past feelings aren’t appropriate on your wedding day.

The Girl Who Used To Talk Sh*t On You

You know the one, the girl in your sorority who thought that you were faking when you had to drop out of school due to being sick. She also told everybody that you had an STD and that you cheated on your boyfriend. No, she didn’t want him for herself, she just didn’t like you then. Now, it’s a different story. Apparently she’s changed. You saw her at your friend’s sister’s birthday party at a bar and she totally hugged you. You talked for like, 5 seconds and she apologized for sleeping with #3…the overprotective guy friend. Send that girl to charm school, because she isn’t any sort of lady.

You’re Ex-BFF/Kind Of Reacquainted

The girl that you got into a fight with about the stupidest crap and text when you look at old pictures of you two together. Figure your life out, because honestly…that girl only texted you because she heard you were engaged. Get real. Sit down, and realize the reasons why you cut her off in the first place. She doesn’t know you anymore, and she couldn’t tell your fiancé from some guy in the street. Do yourself a favor and reconnect completely (if you dare) after the blessed event.


What Your Coffee Order says about You

Coffee is probably the most important thing in most modern day people’s lives. From teens to the elderly, coffee is loved through all ages. Lately, there has been a surge of insane types of coffee invented that most coffee enthusiasts would vote as, “not even sort of coffee.”


Regular, Black

Girl, (or guy) you know what’s up. You crave the caffeine goodness and you don’t want any of that petty crap to get in your way. Milk? Blegh. Sugar? As if. You want the bitter and the smooth taste all up in you. You haven’t met a coffee too strong. Your coffee order tells others, “I don’t need substitutions. I’ve got the real deal.” Most of these coffee drinkers are a little rough around the edges and like to keep it real with their friends. No shame in that game.

Regular with Creamer and Sugar

Bitch, you don’t even want 2 percent!? Let’s get this together. Yes, they make those creamers in the same containers that crack is cooked in, therefore it’s easy to get hooked…but come on. As for the sugar, do you want to drink coffee? Or just the thin mint goodness? Most of these coffee drinkers can be found sitting outside their college union with a Marlboro Light hanging out of their mouth and their iPhone 6 playing Selena Gomez and Zedd.

Iced Coffee, any way

Whether it’s wind or rain, you know this coffee aficionado is definitely getting their fix in a big cold way. Any way you pour it, this drinker is not about to make jokes about his or her coffee. Most iced coffee drinkers can be seen wandering around the mall or taking a run to their local Starbucks to get their fix. Most iced coffee drinkers utilize their days off to just wear work out clothes while not going to the gym and wasting time in Target instead. Oops.


What are you anyway? Do you want coffee or a cup of hot milk? Because, TBH that’s what you’re getting…and you’re even paying well over $3.00 for it. Suddenly, basics all around the globe are taking pictures of their latte art. Hearts, stars, and horseshoes made out of milk foam have flooded my instagram and I want it to stop. Most people who order a latte at their coffee shop are just in it to sound snooty to the rest of the line. “Oh, she’s a latte drinker. She’s got to be sophisticated.” Latte drinkers can be found in the line at Chipotle while discussing how to actually pronounce Chi-polt-ley…or is it Chi-pol-tee?

Macchiato, Machiato?

Literally, is this just crack with a fancy Italian name. Do we even know if it is Italian? I’m unsure about the situation. Anyway, most Macchiato drinkers don’t even know what they are drinking half the time. Why? Because none of them bother to look up what the ingredients are. You can find these people in line to see the midnight showing of 50 Shades of Grey and taking selfies with their custom-made t-shirts fully supporting Christian Grey’s way of life. Do you girl, do you.

FYI: Macchiato simply means “marked” or “stained” in Italian. In the case of caffè macchiato, this means literally “espresso marked with milk.” – Thanks Starbucks.

In my humble opinion…whatever humble means anyway…coffee is made to make you a caffeinated you.  Don’t taint it with your creamers and syrups. Drink it like nature intended to be…hot, black, and bitter. Yum.



Just Some Thoughts

Everyday, I see and hear perceptions of perfect relationships everywhere. What makes a relationship perfect? I’m not sure my answer is the correct answer for everyone…that makes it my type of perfect. I like getting milkshakes and every week and having a beer at a local pub. Some may like playing video games and going hiking. Who am I to judge?

The world is made up of thousands upon thousands of various personalities. Each personality meshes with a different personality differently. Your upbringing, your likes, and your dislikes play major parts in what you as an individual find attractive.

The problem with today’s world? Someone, somewhere made their “attractive” the norm. This “cookie cutter” mold causes individuals to bend and break within its containment. The norm tells people that their relationship is wrong, and that if something isn’t done a specific way, it isn’t love. Truthfully, love is defined by an infinite number of paths travelled. For me, I don’t want to go out every weekend…and my fiancé gets that. For a friend, partying is her way of life. She needs someone to keep up.

“Normal” love is defined by commonalities and similar quirks. My love? That love is defined by what makes me happy. I want to brought flowers and put on a pedestal. There are plenty of girls who don’t want it. This doesn’t mean that her society shouldn’t be the overruling voice in her head telling her that her chemistry lab partner isn’t the person that makes her happy. Rules and status force unsure personalities into molds that later destroy them. I have seen many relationships fail because of petty influences.

The reasons for falling in love…or even “in like” shouldn’t be something that is defined as “normal love.” It doesn’t work for everyone.


Hi Kiddos-

As you all know, writing is my favorite thing to do. No joke. Anyway, I’m trying super duper hard to make this into a career…and I wouldn’t be anywhere without you all and your support!

I recently started writing for a website called Real Talk. It’s a phenomenal place for new and talented writers to get their feet wet…and to gain experience. We are trying so hard to make this website into a safe haven for people who can relate to our stories and our lives.

Our editor, Liz is so darn amazing, and she is working extra hard to get us all paid for what we love to do! I would appreciate a follow on our twitter or facebook…or for your to visit this gofundme page. I would love you all forever!

Thanks, and keep it cool, classy, and sassy.

10 News Stories Today

Oh Valentine’s Day, a time to literally hate everyone on your Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook. No, I’m not single…and no, I’m not bitter. In fact, I have a phenomenal relationship. Today, I don’t choose to share my love with the world. Yes, I choose to share it other days…but not today. Why? Because everyone else. Dare I be edgy and different? It is my middle name…

Today, I worked and then sent the valet guys at my guy’s work in with a rose and chocolates to the kitchen. I hope he gets embarrassed. Isn’t that what today is for?!

Here are ten things that happened today that had nothing to do with your relationship status:

  1. A rare planet with crazy temperatures was discovered by scientists in Berlin.
  2. About 25% of your Facebook friends are calling today “Single’s Awareness Day.”
  3. It started snowing on Long Island again.
  4. Crispy M&M’s are freaking back!
  5. No one liked your Instagram photo of chocolates and flowers. Not passive aggressive…I swear.
  6. 50 Shades of Grey literally blew people’s minds…such a crazy concept. Okay, that one is a dig.
  7. Bethany Hamilton is pregnant. Like, that girl is a champion. And…she sings too? Now I’m confused.
  8. We are all one day closer to Ralph’s being open for the summer.
  9. There was a shooting in Denmark.
  10. About 5% of your Facebook friends got engaged today. It’s just science.

Sunday’s With Poppy

I remember that Sunday. It was different.

Sunday was my favorite day. For most kids, Sunday is a worst enemy, the beginning of the school week. Sunday meant starting homework and projects, while the memories of Saturday still lingered in and out of their conscious. For me, Sunday was the day. I had no qualms with Sunday…I still don’t. For me, Sunday is the day for making fun memories.

From a young age, Sunday was family day. It was a day for breakfast, lunch, and dinner with family. I would be considered blessed: both sets of my grandparents lived a couple miles away from us, and resided in the same town. Weekends were split among traveling, sports, house and yard work, and visiting family. We were a busy bunch; spending most of our days away from the TV and on the road. I wouldn’t trade it.

Unfortunately, my father’s father lost a long battle with cancer in the fall of 2001. We celebrated his life, and picked up the pieces of ours to try and get through each day. My mother had the idea of “Sunday Dinner,” which she later renamed as, “The Old Folk’s Gathering.” Her idea was to have her parents and her mother-in-law over for appetizers, a cooked meal, and dessert…all while having everyone home by 7:30pm for bowling. It was a time for laughter, love, and planning for the future. We planned many occasions while eating an Entenmann’s crumb cake.

In the beginning, my mother’s parents would arrive at 5pm…my father’s mother and sister would arrive at 5:15pm. They would bring dessert. I can still hear our Great Dane barking as my grandparent’s walked slowly up the driveway as my brother and father rushed to help with their groceries. Poppy and Umma’s shoes would scratch our kitchen floor as they walked in and a gust of cold air would fly in with them. I would run down the stairs with a new outfit on, just as my grandfather would ask when our alarm system would be fixed. My mother would shoo them out of the kitchen and I would be the first hug them. Poppy smelled of cold air and his head and shoulder’s shampoo, while Umma smelled of York peppermint patties and her favorite perfume, L’aire Blue. Umma would offer to paint my nails for me while complimenting my flashy outfit. I would take their coats off and run them up to my mother and father’s room. Soon, my grandmother would come in with my aunt. I would take drink orders, and bring out crackers.

The conversation would be normal: Cars, doctor appointments, the dog, school, and sports. Poppy would shoot questions out like bullets, as he occasionally took a drink of his red wine. Umma and Grandma would have light conversation about curtains and plans that were made for the next week. Every so often, Poppy would ask if he ever told us the story of the time he went to China. Although we would say yes, he would tell us a story we never heard before. He has experienced so much; he had seen his share of life. Poppy would tell the story of the time he played basketball with local boys on the mountain of Kunming. He would laugh when he thought about it, saying that he never could understand how he couldn’t beat a couple of 15 year old boys…he assumed it was because he wasn’t used to the altitude.

Dinner was served soon after, and my grandfather would sit next to my brother. If my sister was home, she would sit on the other side of my Umma. I would take my usual seat next to my aunt and mother, and we would pray over our food. My mother would thank God for everything we had, and we would dig in. Laughter would ensue after Poppy would tell a story about his travels through Europe with Umma. My grandmother would laugh, and Umma would roll her eyes and whisper to my mother that he was crazy. She would feed our Great Dane some table scraps and scold Poppy for doing the same. We would be in high spirits, laughing and joking about our problems from the week.

As time carried on, the “old folks” grew older. The stories we once begged for were told two or three times in the same sitting. Seats became empty as years went on. Umma passed in 2007 from cancer. I had never seen Poppy so broken. He would talk about his beautiful wife and what she did while he was in the war. My father’s mother became his only comrade. Conversation became more broken. My siblings and I grew up, and didn’t want much to do with Sunday dinner. I would miss dinner occasionally. I never realized how important it was to Poppy for us to be there.

My father’s mother passed in 2009. And then there was one. My aunt still frequented dinner. My mother renamed dinner to the, “Sunday Social.” By 2009, Poppy had lost half of his eyesight. He had to be picked up, and brought to our house. My brother or my father would drive to pick him up. He had become more fragile than before. Soon, talk of the fear of him falling was a topic of conversation before he would come in. I would sit quietly in the other room eavesdropping on my mother and aunt. I would pick my nail polish and pet our Great Dane. I would shake with fear and anger: Poppy was strong, and didn’t need assisted living. My parents and family thought otherwise.

In 2010, Poppy was moved out of his house to an assisted living facility. He had been stripped of his independence, and he hated every second of it. It needed to happen. He would fall, and not tell anybody. He would leave the stove on and forget it was on. He needed help reading his mail. It needed to be done, but he wasn’t happy about it. Most of the people in his facility were also veterans of WWII. He exchanged stories and compared locations. He even employed my sister to try to find his pilot on the “computer.” Although in his 90th year, he was keeping up with the times.

Our Great Dane would wait for Poppy to come over, and would sit at the table to wait for table scraps. We would still hear his stories. We would still be filled with his knowledge and wisdom. My sister gave birth to his first great-grandchild, and he felt blessed. My brother introduced a girl to us, and Poppy could not be happier.  He had created this strong, loving family…he had given us the life that we live. Permanent additions were made the table; while keeping the memories of the original members.

Poppy was put into hospice after a fall in the assisted living facility. I remember that Sunday. It was different. We didn’t have a cooked meal, but instead McDonald’s with a coffee from Dunkin Donuts. My parent’s went to see him first, then my uncle and his wife. My cousins and my siblings said goodbye. I didn’t. I stayed home. I waited for Sunday dinner to start. I stood in the living room with our Great Dane, waiting for dinner to be ready. It was never ready. I sat in the living room in complete silence, peeling my nail polish off.

I said goodbye to Poppy on a Wednesday. I walked down the hallway, and it smelled faintly of hospital food. I wanted to throw up.  I’m not sure why I was nervous, or what I was expecting. My mother had prepped me on his condition, and I felt sick. As I rounded the corner, I shut my eyes. When I opened them, there he was. My Poppy. No tubes, no sound. He was asleep. I sat next to him, and couldn’t look at him. I held his hand, and it was cold. He was freezing. I was so silent I could hear my heart beating in my body. I told him I would see him next Sunday and he squeezed my hand.

Poppy passed away in early 2011. He was at peace when he passed. The next couple of days were a whirlwind. As I sat in the funeral home, I eavesdropped on my mother making the arrangements for his burial while peeling my nail polish. I sat in our living room with our Great Dane while my mother gathered pictures of Poppy with his family. I felt the itchiness of my black tights on my legs and the squeeze from my black heels. The wake, the funeral, and the burial are all memories that come back to me in flashes. It was almost like I blacked out.

We soon picked up the pieces of our life and put them back in different ways. I went back to school, and my brother moved out of our house. My niece grew older, and our Great Dane passed away. We grew up at our dinner table. We grew up to know what true love looked like, and what family looked like. Lessons about Ellis Island and the Bronx in the 30’s were top notch, and we learned that Uncle Bacala’s was a restaurant and not an insult. We strived for love, laughter and family in our own life journey.

To me, I was taught everything I need to know about life, and then some.

What People Don’t Tell You About Moving

All my life, I lived in New York, in the shadow of the most amazing city I have ever seen. I have grown up seeing Broadway shows and musicals, and the view from Jones Beach on Long Island. I was influenced by the tragedy of 9/11 and stood proud for my city. I never thought I would move, until I found love.

I must say, moving to Philadelphia for college was some sort of wonderful. I was free to be in another wonderful city, and be exposed to new and different ways of life. After a few years, I left my new found love, and came back to my full time obsession. I was comfortable, and was still convinced that if I was to leave, I would always come back again.

Like I said, I found love, a big and wonderful sort of love that only comes to a person once in his or her lifetime. We were at a cross road: stay in my vast, beautiful world of New York…or leave to find a more peaceful world in Pennsylvania. I chose the latter. Not because I don’t want to some day go back; but because his wishes to own a house seem more realistic in the suburbs of PA.

So, we packed up my life from my childhood room, and we drove to a small town outside of Philadelphia. I won’t say I am not impressed with how beautiful it is here, but I will say…it’s different.

There Are Live Animals

No, not squirrels. I’d be cool with squirrels. These animals do $5,000 worth of damage to your Mazda 3. These animals come at your car because it’s in their way. I know that deer and large foxes are in some parts of New York, too…but not my New York. Not the New York I grew up in. It was too developed for that…and I was perfectly fine living in a world where animals were in a mystical “wild” that was far away from my humble abode. The first day I saw a deer run out in front of a car, I wondered if I had been transported to the countryside, or a zoo…and then I hit it.

You Are Away From Your BFF Squad

Sure, you have your friends here…but they aren’t like your old friends. They are just as wonderful and fun, but there is something about being in a different state than your best friend that makes you say…Is this worth it? I will say,’s worth it, but it’s also worth a trip back to your home base every once and a while to keep in touch. It’s hard to keep in touch with everyone, but it’s important to try. Like the old saying goes, “Out of sight, out of mind.”

There’s Nothing to Do

Yes, there are no beaches here for your lazy days off from work…and your BFF hang out schedule has gone out the window since you’re 100 miles away. Your new friends have a 9-5 job, and suddenly, you couldn’t be more alone. Friday and Saturday nights become a night of organization and room cleaning, while your friends from home Snapchat you every hour from the different events you’re missing. They don’t do it to be malicious…but it still hurts. In order to get out of your funk, you have to do your research. Get to the nearest gym and start working out. Ask a friendly coworker about a fun bar around your work, and don’t be too afraid to smile as that pedestrian walks by. It may not lead to anything, but it doesn’t hurt. Be aware, it’s easy to sit in your living room and watch HGTV for hours at a time, while eating ice cream. Just don’t do it. It can become a vicious cycle.

The Lay of The Land is Different

Coming from a city that sells alcohol 24 hours a day in a gas station, to actually having to plan out a trip to the beer distributor is fairly tragic. It isn’t impossible, but your new friends will think you are insane that you are actually bitching about this. It’s a real struggle. Bars close earlier than 4am, and you can’t just double your tax to come up with a tip.

It’s different, that is a guarantee; but it is important to remember that change brings character. The growth that will come out of a successful move will be amazing. Your life is bound to change in a new and profound way, and you should be proud of yourself. It isn’t easy to leave your home, and soon…your new city will be your home, too.