a thin line

We all have that friend who–when drunk–requires a babysitter on the occasion. Except me. Because I am that friend.

I feel like a big part of “adulting” is trying to navigate–when out drinking with friends–that thin line between happy drunk and oh-god-lexie-took-her-pants-off-again.

I’m not proud. Just honest.

In the name of honesty, almost every social occasion in your twenties involves drinking. Dinner with clients? Here comes the wine. Your cousin Rita is getting married? Hello open bar! A long day at the office? Let’s go to happy hour! Even breakfast in your twenties is a boozy event (so many of my Sundays have involved bottomless mimosas that I’m pretty sure I have diabetes from all the OJ but hey at least I don’t have to worry about getting scurvy.).

You’d think that at 27 I’d be a pretty experienced drinker at this point. I’d have a handle of vodka on how many is too many and always remember to eat dinner and drink a glass of water between cocktails and I’d certainly never run away from my family in New Orleans and eat Popeyes with a homeless man.

Okay maybe I ran away from my family in New Orleans and went on a date with a homeless guy to Popeyes (I paid…in case you are wondering #feminism).

It all started innocently enough. It was our first afternoon in New Orleans and my dad wanted to get Hurricanes from O’Brien’s. First of all, those Hurricanes taste like cough syrup. I quickly switched to mint juleps which were on special because of the upcoming Kentucky Derby. This feels nice.

Leave O’Brien’s.

Dance with street performer dressed up as vampire. Dad tells me not to talk to weirdos.

Next bar.

“Try our famous resurrection. It comes in a flashing skull cup!”

Sold.

Back to the streets.

Dad buys me a hotdog from a vendor. I take a few bites but I’m too drunk to chew things. Throw away rest of hotdog.

See topless lady in streets with tits painted purple. Wish my dad wasn’t there so I could walk around the streets of New Orleans topless with my tits painted purple. Remember that I have the tits of a chubby fifth grade boy. Get sad. Go to next bar. Do the responsible thing and order a beer instead of another $15 flashing skull cup. Convince every old lady in the bar to dance with me. It’s still light outside.

Back outside. Talk to more street performers. Dad doesn’t yell at me this time.

Stepmom picks restaurant for dinner. Get bored waiting for our table. Leave the restaurant. Dad tells Brian to follow me. A half hour later Brian taps my dad on the shoulder. Dad inquires where I am.

“I couldn’t find her. When are we eating?”

Meanwhile.

Walking around Canal street by myself. See a homeless man who looks familiar.

“You said you were going to buy me dinner.”

“Well I’m here all week.”

“Why don’t we go now?”

Fine.

Take homeless man to McDonalds.

“But I want chicken!!”

Fiiiiine.

Take homeless man to Popeyes. He gets me a coke. AKA I get me a coke.

Sit outside of casino because Dad is panicking at me walking around New Orleans by myself and wants to come get me. Dad can’t find the casino. I keep telling him I dropped him a pin. Too bad my dad has a flip phone not an iPhone and can’t get the pin.

Eventually reunite with family. Dad tells me if I’m going to act like this the rest of the trip I can just go home now.

Eat cheeseburgers from somewhere. Walk back to hotel. Trip. Toe is bleeding. Blame Brian. Repeatedly tell Brian my dad thinks he’s a douche. Dad insists on making sure I get in my hotel room. Tells me under no circumstances to leave the hotel room the rest of the night.

Sleep. Have vivid dreams about the devil and human sacrifice rituals. Wake up. Is hotel haunted? Sleep. Is it the next day yet? Don’t know hotel doesn’t have windows. Sleep. How am I not hungover? Shower. Probably shouldn’t drink today. Have first drink by 2 p.m.

New Orleans <3.

 

 

lex lately

Lately I’m…

Older, but Feeling the Same

One of the big perks to my SE apartment is that it’s walking distance to Nats stadium (by walking distance I mean it’s about a mile and half but at least it helps me justify having a big old beer and some popcorn while I’m there). I got carded when purchasing said beer and upon viewing my ID, the woman behind the counter said “coulda fooled me.” Trust me ma’am, I fool myself every day.

It’s basically the same story every year, isn’t it? Prior to turning 26 last year, I remember writing:

I’m continuously shocked by how little I change despite getting older. I mean obviously my looks and figure are on a steep decline (jk kind of sort of not really), but I still do that thing where when I drink too much, I run away and hide from my friends. I chose to do this at a St. Patrick’s Day bar crawl in Baltimore, which is probably one of the most dangerous things I’ve ever decided to do. After a few blocks of running, I looked up and saw I was on Leakin Street, which reminded me of Leakin Park (where the body was found in the podcast, Serial). I called my friends to let them know I had somehow made my way into the podcast and was very scared. Normal stuff, you know? Oh and I fell off a bench.

Alright. So I guess I’ve changed a little. I told myself “no more bar crawls.” So over them.

Visiting My Favorite DC Monument

I’ve been trying to convince myself that there’s more to DC than just drinking. And eating.

So last night instead of going out, I took Brian for a late night visit to my favorite monument in DC–the FDR monument.

I feel like this monument doesn’t get as much love as some of the others, which is truly a shame. Unlike the other monuments, I feel like this one really tells you a story as you walk through the different rooms that represent FDR’s terms as President. And for some reason, I’ve only ever seen the monument at night but it’s probably even better during the day.

Becoming a Regular at Eastern Market

Eastern Market was a favorite DC destination for me even before I only lived 4 blocks away from it. Now I’m there pretty much every Saturday and Sunday. I don’t always buy something, but there’s just such a great vibe there and it feels good for my soul. Does that make sense? No. Not surprised.

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Reading All the Things

Katie over at a Touch of Teal basically changed the game for me when she shared on her blog that she’d been saving money by getting free Kindle downloads from the DC library. Realistically, I fugging love reading but it can become an expensive hobby when you read as much as I do.

I’ve been reading AT LEAST two books a month for all of 2016, but another thing I’ve discovered is that through DC library, you can also get free magazine downloads through Zinio.

Screen Shot 2016-04-24 at 9.17.10 AMThese are basically life savers when it comes to trying to get me to do 30 full minutes of cardio.

Snapping My Life Away

I HATE to tell you that my snapchat name is ilikey0u2. I’m sorry. It’s so spammy but I never thought snapchat was going to become cool and I of course made my username is homage to my tattoo of a whale that says “I like you”.

in hindsight i wish i had…

never tried internet dating

I was thinking about this recently and I can safely say that the only good thing that came out of internet dating was blog material. Maybe I’m bad at screening dates. Maybe my LEXpectations are too low. Maybe I just didn’t try it long enough?

And I didn’t just do the free ones either! I once paid for an online dating service called “How About We,” where you propose dates you want to go on and see if anyone responds:

I got 76 responses and convinced myself to go on at least one date, which ended up being the worst date I’ve ever been on. Let me put this into perspective for you: one of the first things the guy said to me was, “So what are you, a C cup?” 

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Of course How About Me is not nearly as bad as OkCupid. One of my all-time favorite messages? “You’d be perfect if you didn’t live up Satan’s ass crack.”

never asked my cousin Devin if he thought I was fat

“No you’re not fat, Lexie. You’re just a little husky.”

And I don’t think he meant like this:

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never stayed in a 2.5 star hotel in the “bad” part of Charlotte, NC

Brian wanted to go see comedian Doug Stanhope perform at the Chop House in Charlotte one time, but I wasn’t totally sold on the idea. Seven hours was a lot to drive for a 48 hour trip, and I never seem to have much PTO stored up despite the fact that I’m too broke for a real vacation.

But at the end of the day, homeboy offered to drive and get the hotel, and even agreed to put us up for two nights in NC if we could find a cheap enough hotel.

Man oh man did he ever find a cheap hotel.

I should have known after our experience planning our weekend in NYC that Brian couldn’t be trusted picking hotels (when I googled the hotel he recommended, the first suggested searches included hotel murder, hotel bed bugs, and hotel haunted. Now lay your weary head to rest, tourist.).

We got to Charlotte around 4 p.m. and I had a blast surprising my unsuspecting coworkers at my company’s Charlotte office.

When they asked where I was staying, my response was met with trepidation, to say the least.

“Well if you want to buy drugs or hookers, that’s the place to do it,” my coworker Ryan told me. He later compared that area of Charlotte to the NE area of D.C. No bruno–which is of course what my Mac autocorrects “no bueno” to.

Nonetheless, we checked into the hotel, which clearly some people choose to live in because it’s cheaper than paying rent. The first thing I noticed was the smell of smoke, which isn’t a particular turn off for me in most scenarios because it reminds me of my Grammy’s house. The difference being Grammy’s house doesn’t usually have blood and other questionable bodily secretions on the wall.

Whatever, I thought. It’s not like we’ll be in the room much this weekend anyway.

After a few $3 sangrias from Brazwell’s, my 8 hours on the road caught up to me and we called it a night relatively early.

As I crawled into the bed at my 2.5 star hotel, I started to…itch.

“Brian, are you itchy?”

“No it’s in your head.”

“Are you sure? I think it’s on my head, not in my head.”

We checked the bed for bugs, but didn’t find anything. He covered my pillow with his tshirt, and I managed to fall asleep for about a half hour. My $40-a-night hotel slumber was forcefully disrupted by a loud slamming of the door to the room beside us.

“Ohhhhh helllllllll naw,” the neighbor next door yelled down the highway.

“Aaaaaaron!!! Aaaaaaron!!!” she called.

“We aint stayin’ here,” she told Aaron. “There’s bugs ‘n’ shit. Aw hell no. We’ll go stay down the street.”

Let me tell you, no words have ever spawned more fear in me than that simple proclamation. If the hotel wasn’t good enough for her, it certainly wasn’t good enough for me.

Brian and I managed to pack all of our stuff in 10 minutes and left the hotel, the Rodeway Inn, around 1:30 a.m. We were checked into the Holiday Inn 30 minutes later. I showered for what felt like an hour and strongly considered burning my clothes and my luggage.

While I don’t think the hotel actually had bed bugs, I did see some reviews that mentioned cockroaches. Either way, I’m pretty sure Brian learned that budget shopping for hotels isn’t always worth it. In this situation, it ended up costing him $90 and will probably cost me years of therapy.

And by therapy, I do mean bacon bloody marys from Terrace Cafe.

Is it a bad sign when your brunch costs more than your hotel? Probably.

never gotten dermal piercings in my back

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Enough said.

the struggle

I often struggle between being myself and being professional. Just this week, the director of my department told me he needed to ask me a favor and my immediate response was “Fine. I’ll start dressing nicer to work.” (That’s not actually the favor he wanted so I’m going to keep wearing ripped jeans to work).

More importantly.

In 2011 when I really felt like I started to find my voice on the blog (PS: my voice was extra raunchy at the time), I was also looking for my first job out of college. I remember my mom sending me an email saying no one was ever going to hire me because of my blog and that she was exactly hanging “proud parent of a girl who blogs about masturbating” stickers on the back of her Envoy either.

But get hired I did. And then my blog actually HELPED me get my job at Blue Corona:

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So admittedly, in the past, when it came time to choosing between being myself and being professional, well, you see the path I chose. And it all worked out!

But now I’m faced with a new conundrum. Now, I have clients. So I figured maybe the least thing that I could do is finally take down my LinkedIn summary. I actually don’t even think it’s funny anymore anyway:

Miss Bond is a website project manager at Blue Corona, an Internet marketing company in Gaithersburg, MD.

Prior to her role as resident alcoholic at Blue Corona, Miss Bond served as a research analyst at RainKing Solutions. (She always knew her first job out of college would have the word “anal” in it.) At RainKing, Miss Bond picked up a ridiculous amount of online and phone stalking skills that will undoubtedly be used on all of her future ex-boyfriends and ex-husbands.

Miss Bond graduated from the University of Pittsburgh in 2011 with degrees in English writing (journalism concentration) and political science (she still knows nothing about politics). While at Pitt, Miss Bond served as the Assistant Opinions Editor at the University’s daily student newspaper, The Pitt News, where she also wrote a weekly health and fitness blog called Get it Right, Get it Tight and a column called Lex and the City. While at Pitt, she also served a brief internship with mtl Mt. Lebanon Magazine, which she will always remember as “the internship where I farted during a yoga class I was researching for an article.” She hasn’t done yoga since the incident.

In addition to writing and blogging, she loves chinchillas, Smart Cars, Doritos, Crest White Strips, Steve Madden shoes, getting tattoos of whales with mustaches, and emailing strangers. Miss Bond hopes to someday write a book, be a stand up comedian, and be on an episode of MTV’s True Life (she is flexible on the show topic).

To contact Miss Bond, please send her an email at lexluthorbond {at} gmail {dot} com.

But I’m keeping all my endorsements for wife skills:

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And I’m also keeping “Family Guy” as one of the languages I speak:

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Want to connect? I like to think I bring a lot to the table (mostly family-size bags of Doritos now that I finally have a Costco membership).

Lexie Bond on [fill in the blank]

Lexie Bond on Relationships

When I was 8 years old (two short years after my parents’ divorce), I very vividly remember my dad telling me that marriage was the worst financial decision he’s ever made. At age 15, I watched my mom go through her third divorce.

For these reasons, I convinced myself that divorce was probably guaranteed by my DNA. Hell, even my Twitter bio says I’m going to make a great ex-wife someday (which is probably why almost all of my Twitter followers are divorce attorneys, now that I think about it).

But for the past few years I’ve been considering skipping the whole marriage step altogether–which has resulted in a super laissez-faire attitude on relationships that I’m not convinced is all that healthy. I mean, “life isn’t easy; fortunately I am” used to be my motto.

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Lexie Bond on Irony

I once traveled to Charlotte, NC and met a gentleman who works for Land O’ Lakes. We talked for a few hours and afterwards he promised to send me some cheese. For some reason, this is one of the most charming things a man has ever offered to do for me, despite my lactose intolerance. How funny would it be if I fell for dairy manager at Land O’Lakes? We’d be like Romeo and Juliet, except with a lot more diarrhea.

Lexie Bond on Fiber One Brownies

Have you ever bought a box of Fiber One brownies, tried one, realized they were absolutely delicious, proceeded to eat the entire box of them (which adds up to 30 grams of fiber in one sitting) and then spent the rest of the evening watching Teen Mom 2 reruns on your Macbook in the bathroom because you’re glued to your toilet?

No?

Me either…

Lexie Bond on Venmo

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Lexie Bond on Dentists

“How often do you floss?” my dentist once asked me.

“I usually just floss before my dates….But I hardly ever go on dates.”

At the same visit, my dentist told me that I have what’s called a torus mandibularis–which basically means a random bone growth in my mouth.

“Well, it’s not the first time I’ve had a random bone in my mouth,” I responded.

“Since the bone growth is only on one side of my mouth, it’s not really causing any problems and there’s no need to have surgery to get it removed. If one grows on the other side, however, it could potentially limit the movement of your tongue.”

“Well that’s really going to cramp my make out style.”

Lexie Bond on Self Awareness

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Lexie Bond on Instagram

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Lexie Bond in Real Life

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the choice

Things have changed.

I remember thinking that the night that I picked the gym and Trader Joes over happy hour and was thinking about what I want for my upcoming birthday and a portable steamer sounded pretty nice. “Who am I?” I thought.

I’m not saying this is some great feat on my part.

I’m just saying that I used to (playfully) poke fun at one of my best friends at work because she had her routine that she rarely strayed from–and now I find myself craving and seeking that sort of structure as if it’s the antidote to what I feel might be a dwindling supply of sanity (plus I fucking hate ironing but hate wearing wrinkled clothes. Portable steamer, here I come!).

Maybe that’s why my blogs have become fewer and far between over the years.

I used to think I was this person who just so happened to be in the right place at the right time–like, all the time. And all these crazy things would happen to me and it made for amazing blog fodder.

But maybe it was my spontaneous way of living that lead to such encounters. What if I never have anything interesting to write about again?

I opened a savings account today.

To be clear, I don’t think that’s interesting. In fact maybe it’s a little sad that I never opened one sooner.

When I moved to Maryland in 2011, I lived rent free in my stepmother’s vacant town house for two whole years. And while sure, I made certain strides while I was there (paying down student loan debt, buying a car and then another, starting my 401k, and not getting myself in any other debt)…I didn’t do much else in the way of making smart financial decisions.

To put it simply, I drank a lotta booze and own a lotta shoes.

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Two eye opening years of DC-area rent that taught me how to be more disciplined with my spending. Combine that with a couple of raises (that I worked really hard to earn) and I guess I finally felt ready to start preparing for “what’s next.”

To be clear, I don’t know what’s next but I’m ready for something bigger than shoes.

  • My first trip to Europe? Yes. Please. Finally.
  • A grown up car? RIP smart car…I’ll tell you about that later.
  • A wedding? Hahahha jk please no.
  • A house? Who am I kidding–it’s DC and I couldn’t even afford a sidewalk square to post a tee-pee on.

I was having regrets for awhile there about not doing what I’m doing sooner–thinking how much I could have in savings now if I was smart enough to stash away what I wasn’t spending on rent those two years. But I can’t say that while my life was rich in savings back then, it was certainly rich in experiences.

Life is short my friends. Sometimes you just gotta say “yes” to the shoes (and then, of course, wear them somewhere really fun).

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my tips for completing a whole 30

Screen Shot 2016-02-21 at 3.19.12 PMme on day 21 of my Whole 30. 

I can’t say enough good things about the Whole 30, which is probably why along the way I convinced at least three other people to try it out as well. Now that I have two under my belt, I feel seasoned enough to pass along some wisdom to anyone else out there considering a Whole 30.

But first, why Whole 30? There are many reasons people might take on the challenge, but here’s where I’ve gotten the most out of it:

  • Weight loss – This isn’t the end goal in Whole 30, but I certainly don’t hate it. I lost 11 pounds during my most recent Whole 30 (just to clarify, I also exercise at least 3 days a week during a typical week).
  • Self control – Some people will say they have no willpower. For me, it’s easier to remove any gray areas of what I can and can’t have, which is one thing I really like about Whole 30. For instance, it’s easier for me to say “no” to birthday cake than to try to justify a reason why I can have it (“oh I had a small breakfast/am going to work out later/deserve this/etc.”). In addition, you’ll probably find that you get full faster during and post Whole 30.
  • Mental clarity – I’ve been getting a lot of great feedback in the past few weeks at work and I have to attribute at least a part of it to the mental clarity I feel when I’m eating better and not drinking as much. On a similar note, when you can’t turn to food or alcohol to cope with what you’re going through during any given time period, you have to actually FEEL your feelings and cope with them in healthy ways (talking to people, exercise, meditation, etc.).
  • Clear skin – I basically never wore foundation during my Whole 30 because I didn’t break out at all. As a side note, I take Biotin pills at least once a day which also aids in hair, skin, and nail health.
  • Boosted metabolism – Whole 30 is supposed to reset your metabolism and both times I’ve found that I’ve continued to lose weight once my Whole 30 ended. If you’re careful, it’s definitely possible to maintain Whole 30 weight loss.

So now that you know why I’m obsessed with the Whole 30, here are my tips for surviving it:

  • Track your calories – “Aren’t you hungry all the time on Whole 30?” No, I wasn’t. I track my calories in the MyFitnessPal app to make sure that I get at least 1200 calories a day. It can be difficult because there are so many high calorie foods that you can’t have on Whole 30 which is why keeping track of my calories daily was so important to me.
  • Tea aggressive – To keep myself from grazing (which is a bad non-Whole 30 habit I have), I would drink somewhere around 4 cups of tea a day. My favorite tea is actually a combination of two teas:  green tea with a lemon ginger zinger added in it. Obviously drink it plain without sugar or honey.
  • WTF can you eat – For breakfast, I’d have roasted diced sweet potatoes with an egg and a chicken sausage link with a 100 calorie pack of guacamole. For lunch, I typically packed myself a salad with baked chicken breast (although on previous Whole 30 I was more into homemade chicken and veggie soups. To save myself time, I stuck mostly to salads this time around). Dinner was where I tried to make things interesting. One of my favorites was roasted spaghetti squash with a homemade ground turkey and mushroom marinara sauce. SO filling. If you’re willing to make your own mayo (I did and it was surprisingly a lot easier than I thought it would be), you can have egg salad, tuna salad, or chicken salad with raw veggies. When I didn’t feel like cooking/packing a lunch or whatever, I would get a Five Guys burger in a lettuce wrap instead of a bun or get a Chipotle bowl without rice or beans.
  • Keep a Lara bar and/or beef jerky in your purse – If I was going over to someone else’s house or heading out for errands, I never knew for sure if there’d be Whole 30 friendly food. Keeping these things in my purse gave me a great buffer and kept me accountable.
  • JUST say “no” (you don’t have to explain yourself to EVERYONE) – When someone offers you something you can’t have (or to go to happy hour or whatever), you can say “no.” You don’t have to explain your Whole 30 to them if you don’t want to, and it might make it easier for yourself if you don’t. Because anyone who has ever been on a diet knows that there is always going to be someone who thinks it’s silly and try to get you to break it.
  • Do it in January or in the winter. – The first time I did Whole 30, I did it in August. This was basically asking for failure because there are always way more parties, vacations, etc. that make sticking to any sort of diet (especially one as strict as Whole 30), harder.
  • If you’re a girl, start it AFTER your period. – This way, you only have to worry about being on your period once during the Whole 30. I dealt with it twice because I didn’t plan for this.
  • Do it with a friend – When I first did the Whole 30, I did it with my roommate Monica. This made it so much easier because we had no junk food or alcohol in our apartment. Plus, since we couldn’t do dinners/happy hours with friends, we had a lot more free time to work out together or do other non-eating/drinking activities.

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The day after my Whole 30 ended and I reunited with my true love–vodka 😉

my mom the smokeshow

One of my favorite things to write about? Much to my mother’s chagrin, it’s well, my mother. We’re not exactly Lorelei and Rory Gilmore. But I would say our relationship is not too far off from Kris Jenner (minus the gold digging although now that I think about it I don’t think she’d turn down a trip to California in 1849…) and Khloe Kardashian (minus the OCD).

I’ve collected a few of my favorite short stories I’ve written about my mom and included them here. Enjoy–and sorry in advance Teri Jo!

Tweets from the Last Vacation I Took with My Mom

mom-4mom-3  mom-6 mom-5

The Dinner Party

One of the last times I went home to visit, my mom wanted to have a dinner party and invited some of her family over for 2 p.m. Around 1 p.m., I started drinking on the deck in the sun. I was on a bit of a beer binge at the time and definitely lost a bit of my tolerance for liquor.

By my second drink, our company had arrived and I smelled noticeably of vodka. By my third drink, I was sitting on my mom’s lap at the dinner table telling her, “I think we should work on our relationship.” She must have told me to go lay down at this point, because the next thing I know I woke up four hours later–alone–on the floor behind her couch.

Who says you can’t go home?

Now anytime I go home and stick to one cocktail or none at all, she makes sure to tell me how proud of me she is. It’s no coincidence that the shorthand for lower expectations is lexpectations.

The Antichrist

Essentially, my relationship with my mom is shaky at best. Mostly because she goes through these periods in her life where she’s randomly super religious (I call her a fairweather Christian) and during these periods of time, she thinks I’m the antichrist.

I seriously woke up one time in the middle of the night to her performing an exorcism on me. Actually that didn’t happen. But I did once woke up from a nap to her standing over me with a syringe attempting to give me a TB test. The fact that she’s a registered nurse only makes this fairly less disturbing.

“Well, Lexie, if you don’t believe in Jesus as your Lord and savior, what DO you believe in?”
“I don’t know yet. But I think karma is probably pretty accurate.”
“Karma?”
“Yeah, you know, what goes around comes around.”
“Well that’s just stupid.”
“That’s stupid? You believe there’s a man in the sky.”

(Nonetheless, reading about the happiness benefits of being spiritual kind of makes me want to explore this missing aspect of my life. But first I’ll change my name to “Cake.” That way I can write about my journey to finding my religion and it can be the sequel to the book Life of Pi called Life of Cake. )

The Time I Was Bored and Decided to Convince My Mom I’d Been Approved to Be a Foster Parent

Lexie: So basically, I applied to be a foster parent as a joke. There’s a law in Maryland that says you only have to be 21 to be a foster parent. So I thought that would be a funny joke to put on the blog, me getting turned down to be a foster parent. But as it turns out, they must not have a lot of people applying to be foster parents, because they want to interview me. And they sent me some pictures of some kids. And I just don’t even understand, like, do I get to rename them?

Mom: No, like, how old are these children?

Lexie: I specifically asked for ones that were 16 or older because I want them to be able to drive me home from the bar.

Mom: Lexie, you need to stop.

Lexie: Do you think I should go to the interview?

Mom: No. Explain to them that you were thinking about it but feel like you’re not quite ready.

Lexie: Well maybe I am ready. I was gonna get a dog not that long ago. This would probably look good on my resume…

Mom: Lexie you cannot have a foster child to drive you home from the bars. That’s not going to happen.

Lexie: I think it’s really responsible. Would you rather have my drive myself home from the bars?

Mom: Lexie! You’re supposed to be a parent to this child! Listen, you’re gonna be responsible for sitting in on parent teacher conferences…

Lexie: Oh I’m not going to send them to school, I’m gonna make them be an unpaid intern for lexiebond.com.

Mom: Just rescind your application.

Lexie: This is not the way I thought this was going to go. I thought you were gonna be happy that you were going to be a grandmammy.

Mom: You’re 24 years old. You can’t do this. You just can’t.

Writing My Mom’s Christian Mingle Profile Is Exhausting

Despite the fact that we don’t always have Gilmore Girls relationship I wish we had, I deeply care about my mom and hate to see her lonely now that she’s single and all of her kids have moved on/out. So I decided, as the family’s only professional writer (everyone else has a useful degree, like nursing), I’d have to help her write her Christian Mingle profile:

I’m quirky. There. I’ll just come right out with it. But quirky in a fun way, not quirky in a “I have a thousand cats and wear a lot of hats” kind of way. I don’t have any cats, actually. I do have a dog though. My children named her “Princess Consuela Banana Hammock,” but we call her Nana for short.

Oh right I should tell you about my children. I have four of them. They’re all pretty much grown up now. They make me laugh so hard sometimes that I could just pee my pants. But in a good way. Like a “it’s okay I’m wearing adult diapers” kind of way.

I don’t wear adult diapers, but I’ve changed more than a few in my life. I’m an RN and have been for years. I love having a career where I can give something back.

I’m a giver. Always have been.

When I’m not working or hanging out with my wacky kids, I do a lot of home improvement jobs around my house. I’ve always been a bit of a handyman. I’ve recently taken up quilting, but my daughter told me to not write that on here. Oh well too late to take it back now.

I’m also currently training for a 5k. I need it to balance all the good wine I like to drink! Oh don’t judge me; Jesus liked wine 😉

The CPR Class

One summer I needed a job, and my mom offered to get me a position at the assisted living community where she worked at the time. For some reason, I was oddly excited at the idea of working at the same place as my mom. I assumed it would be us going to the mall on our lunch breaks and her buying me chicken teriyaki, among other fun and delicious adventures.

I was not expecting the assisted living community to smell so strongly of feces. “You’ll get used to it,” she assured me. She wasn’t wrong, although I don’t know that it’s a good thing that my nose has been desensitized to the smell of human excrement.

The interview was largely a formality. I’m pretty sure I probably wore jeans to it. The training–however–was no joke. Nearly two weeks were devoted to watching videos and taking tests on HIPPA, blood borne pathogens, how to drag a patient down the stairs in a blanket in case of a fire (our building didn’t even have stairs), and more.

Finally, I was required to take a CPR class. This seemed like a lot of hoop jumping for the job I was actually going to be performing–my job title was “Activities Assistant.” AKA I played bingo with the residents. For $10 an hour.

My mom decided that she needed to renew her CPR certification, so she signed up to take the class with me. She regrets this decision to this day, I believe.

My mom was flirting with our CPR instructor even though he was only a 4 and she’s easily an 8. And we all know you should only stoop 2 levels beneath you at the most. Needless to say, I was annoyed that I wasn’t getting the most out of my CPR class because my mom was trying to get a date to the assisted living community prom. That definitely wasn’t an actual activity we held, but I’m kind of surprised because the activities grew increasingly stupid the longer I worked there (I was once asked to do an assisted living community yoga class. I had never taken yoga and most of the residents were in wheel chairs.)

By the time my mom was done batting her eyelashes and twirling her hair, I had forgotten everything I learned. As I approached the CPR dummy–I couldn’t help but think how I was going to let him down. He was going to die, simply because my mom has to flirt with every man we encounter–no dentist, waiter, grocery store checkout bag boy is safe. I became overridden with emotion and rage, tilted his sweet, plastic head backwards slightly, and folded my hands onto the smooth, cold surface of his unmoving chest.

“BREATH GODDAMMIT,” I shouted. “Don’t you go dying on me! I won’t let it end like this!”

As the tears streamed down my face, the temperature in the room dropped and the lights began to dim. Suddenly we were transported to the middle of the Atlantic, and my own breath was visible in the cold air in front of me as I frantically inhaled and exhaled.

“You’re going to go on. And you’re going to make lots of babies. And you’re going to die an old woman, warm in her bed,” I squeaked to the naked, male torso of the mannequin in front of me. I didn’t even know his name, yet we had been through so much in the past twenty minutes. I was deeply invested at this point.

Obviously those last two paragraphs didn’t happen. But my mother was mortified at this point. I had made a fool of myself–in front of her potential fourth husband.

the fault in our bars

The thing about having a blog is, you constantly think of other blogs you should start that would be better than the one you currently have. For example, one time my friend Natasha and I decided we should start a blog called “The Fault in Our Bars,” where we’d attempt to review ALL of the bars in DC. To this day, I think it’s a great idea for a blog, though admittedly I was probably just looking for an excuse to have liquid dinner every night.

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No matter how many times liquid dinner does me dirty, I always find myself coming back to it. These evenings usually result in me doing at least one (if not more) of the following:

  • crying on the curb outside a DC bar until a stranger feels bad enough to offer me money for a cab ride home
  • falling asleep in a patch of grass near Howard University
  • hitting on an older black gentlemen because my friend John tells me he’s Supreme Court justice Clarence Thomas
  • leaving my iPhone at iHop
  • getting guacamole stains on my bed sheets

And yes. Those have all happened.

But I’m sure I’m not the only twenty something (god I hate that saying) who’s social life revolves heavily around drinking.

So when my old roommate Monica suggested last August that we try the Whole 30 (no alcohol, no sugar, no grains, no dairy), I knew the hardest part would be the no alcohol part. In fact, the first time we tried Whole 30, I’m pretty sure I ended up drinking for 5 out of 30 of the days.

I’ve done much better this time around.

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I’m currently on day 23 and I’m proud to report I haven’t touched “the bottle” once. And you know what I’ve noticed? Things like this don’t happen as often:

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And because I’m not getting drunk enough to cry on a sidewalk, I’m forced to find normal and healthy ways to deal with my feelings–talking to loved ones, getting in a good workout, journaling (which actually just typing notes in my phone), hugging my puppy, etc.

I’ve always been good at extremes (I keep seeing tshirts that say ‘half drunk is a waste of money” and I don’t disagree with it), but when Whole 30 is over I plan on trying this idea of moderation on for size. I’m hoping it doesn’t give me a muffin top.

starting over

“In New York, you can have a great job, a great apartment and a great companion, but not all three.” – Carrie Bradshaw

I don’t know about you, but I like to evaluate my life based on Sex and the City quotes. Maybe it’s no surprise then that I named my blog Lex and the City. Of course, unlike Carrie Bradshaw, I don’t write a sex column for a living and I don’t allow myself to buy shoes that cost more than my rent. 

When I first started this blog nearly five years ago after I graduated college, it’s hard to say exactly what I had in mind for it. What it ended up turning out to be–now that I reflect–was my pursuit of those three things above. Even Neil Strauss said,

All human problems fall into one of three areas: health, wealth, and relationships.”

Which doesn’t seem too far off from my girl Carrie if you ask me.

There are very few things I’d consider myself an expert. In fact, “keep your friends close and your Doritos closer” is probably the best advice you’ll receive from this entire blog, so if you want to stop reading now, you can.

I’m one of those people who learns best by making the same mistakes over and over, and making the same claim that I always make:

That I’m going to get my life together.

You see for me, the hardest part about growing up has been…everything.

I often wonder when I’m actually going to start feeling like an adult. It’s weird to feel like I’m aging but not getting older. And the only thing that seems to get more certain as I age is my growing certainty that I look like a Hanson brother.

I’m still waiting to reach the age that I wake up and immediately think to make my bed, but as of 26 I still think that’s a waste of time. My bills don’t always get paid on time, I don’t own a real tool set, and occasionally I eat freeze pops for breakfast. At the same time, the more I age, the more and more people around me inevitably get married and pregnant. I have opinions on both:

  1. Marriage? I hear it’s the leading cause of divorce! – Lexie Bond on marriage. 
  2. Kids? I’m not sure I ever want to be a mom. Although, I wouldn’t mind playing one on a sitcom. Plus, I can barely take care of myself!  – Lexie Bond on kids

About my career. I may not be a sex columnist in New York City, but I am a blogger in DC (with a pretty great day job too I must admit). I may not be Carrie Bradshaw, but I am Lexie Bond, which sure sounds like an author’s name if I’ve ever heard one.

Actually, now that I think about it, it sounds more like a porn star or stripper name. But for your sake and mine, I think I’ll keep my clothes on.

And with that–it looks like Lex and the City is back. And this time, I’m coming to you from the nation’s capital.