Wedding Details

As some of you might know… I got married. CALM DOWN. I have always said that getting married brings out the worst in people, you get a ring on your finger and all the sudden you think the world revolves around you. Brides are the biggest assholes ever.  Like, don’t even get me started. I wasn’t a bridezilla because I am a simply a lifezilla. Being so, I had a very clear vision for what I wanted our wedding to look like, feel like, sound like, taste like, you get the picture. I thrive in decision making, delegation and spending other peoples money so I really felt in my element during the planning process. In the most non-basic self indulgent bridezilla way, I wanted to share some elements of my wedding with my bitches.

Music | There is nothing worse than a wedding with shitty music. Being that my groom and many of our wedding guests are in the music industry, it was the most important element of our wedding. We curated playlists for pre-ceremony, cocktail hour, reception, after party. Sometimes providing track by track playlists aren’t enough – we also included a list of DO NOT PLAY THESE SONGS OR ELSE THE BRIDE WILL SHANK YOU IN THE THROAT ( anything Jason Mraz, Baby Got Back, YMCA, the fucking song from Twilight, shoot me). My husband produced the music for our processional and it was one of the most special aspects of the wedding.

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Personalization | I think a wedding should *feel* like the couple and not some sad replicas of your pinterest board. I love a personalization. Matches, napkins, place cards, specialty cocktails, anything and everything. It’s inexpensive, chic and unique. Just make sure everything is COHESIVE. Fonts are my life. I made sure the fonts and monogram used in my invitation were the same throughout (details bitch).

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Monofloral | This was something I felt extremely passionate about. I am 93% positive I have severe OCD (cute) but floral arrangements give me shpilkes (yiddish for nervous energy). I wanted all centerpieces/bouquets arranged by flower type. No mixing. I had a legally binding “use roses and hydrangea sparingly” rule and stuck with mostly modern structured flowers (calalilies, orchids, gladiolus) and it was fresh as fuck.

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Acrylic | I love anything non child friendly. It’s clear, it needs to be windexed constantly, its sharp and it’s perfection… it’s acrylic. My save the dates were acrylic with gold imprinting and totally set the tone for the wedding. For our escort board, we had a sexy plexiglass board with all of our guest names printed in a clean block letter (I hate a swirly font – again shpilkes), place cards were acrylic drink stirrers placed in champagne glasses and for reception chairs we used “ghost chairs” that gave our whole decor a super modern look.

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Mixed Metals | I love shiny shit. So I would never limit myself to one metallic accent color. I love mixing gold and silver, we had no other color in our wedding scheme. Silver mirrors, gold rimmed china, silver votives. You get the picture.

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FUR (because why the fuck not) | This was a controversial decision on my end. When you think a spring wedding in the middle of the piping hot desert, you don’t usually think of white fur… unless your a psycho like me. I ordered 20 white sheepskin throws from an illegal international import website to achieve my dream of casual white fur draped over the outdoor furniture, you know, for “texture”. I am a monster.

 

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Mirrored Err’thang| We used mirrored round table tops and mirrored runners for all the tables. Not only because its fucking pretty but it also reflected the chandeliers, candle light and center pieces to really pump everything up a couple notches.

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For more juicy details on the wedding check out my podcast episode “Blushing Bitch” with Lauryn Evarts from The Skinny Confidential here: CLICK ME FOR PODCAST!

You’re An Asshole

My friend Heidi and I were discussing the benefits (branding wise) I could attain if I contracted or faked some small non-life threatening disease. We decided an STD would be too hard to pull off and probably a bad look long term. Although a Chlamydia endorsement could be super lucrative. Syphilis seems cute too. Maybe a new strain of hepatitis? Maybe not. We decided Fibromyalgia would be perfect for me and despite having no clue what it is, I’m pretty positive I have it. So you should all feel bad for me and subscribe to my podcast series to help me with my disease. Bless you.

I’ve been thinking a lot about assholes lately. Not the orifice but the notable group of people who are a constant life suck. I could probably find a better diagnosis with some psychoanalysis and then conclude what factors in their life MADE them such an asshole but that seems like a waste of my time and also totally impertinent #DEFLECTING.

Recently, an ex friend of mine reached out to grab drinks. While I pondered getting my hair professionally done and telling her how much better my life is without her trying to bang my boyfriends, I decided that she was and always will be an asshole and my barely dirty martini with blue cheese olives would have to be consumed at home. Assholes tend to blame their overall suck to various people, places or things. They didn’t get hugged as a child, they have no money, Selena’s death really ruined their faith in mankind, whatever, bidi bidi bom bom. The truth is, while many of these life factors are influential and upsetting, they are all irrelevant and invalidated as an excuse for being an asshole.

If you’ve had problems with almost every person in your life, you are an asshole. If you only had 3 people (minus Tom) on your Myspace Top 8, you are an asshole. If Jesus is the only person who is regularly forgiving you, you are an asshole.  No offense to God but salvation and atonement should start in the home. Hiding behind something that is legitimately sacred and cherished by non-assholes shouldn’t be abused by people who can’t get their shit together. It’s like carrying a fake designer handbag, don’t ruin it for the rest of us please and thank you. My ex-friend would puke in your purse, bang your boyfriend and then go on a Church retreat and tell me she was forgiven. That’s chic but I still think you are an asshole.

Another huge aspect of general asshole-ness is victimization. So you’ve pissed everyone in your life off and now you feel bad for yourself and everyone else should too. Poor little a-hole. Unfortunately, that’s not how life works. Pity parties are the fucking worst and usually include a very short guest list and a cash bar. Clearly empathy has never been my strong suit but it’s pretty difficult for me to feel sorry for people who’s woes are all self inflicted. I feel sorry to the kids starving in Africa, people killed due to genocide and Yolanda Foster #lymebrain.

The hardest part about BEING an asshole is accepting that you’re an asshole. And to be honest, assholes usually stay assholes until they die an asshole and then have a super assholey afterlife. Right? Right. Assholes are like assholes, everyone’s got one.

To end things delicately, a poem:
If you’re still upset that as a kid, your daddy missed you make your first goal,
Or while all the other kids got Barbie dream houses, Santa only gave you coal,
And while all your peers went to college, and instead you chose the pole,
Realize it’s not anyone else’s fault, that you became an asshole.

Love,

Jackie

20 Things To Do in Your 20’s

 

  1. Travel alone. If you don’t want to travel with yourself, why would anybody else? Learn how to print your own boarding pass, swig cocktails solo and explore a city sans travel buddy. Bon voyage bitch.
  2. Figure out your fucking eyebrows. Whether you prefer a Selena slim brow or a Frida full bush – find the right shape and fullness for your face. Eyebrows are the best way to say who you are without words. They ARE that important.
  3. Clean out your clique. Like Caroline Manzo once said, “when you hang around garbage you start to stink.” Your college friend who pukes in her purse and hits on your boyfriend? Let her go.
  4. Put in the long hours, write the awkward emails and be ruthless to the point of obnoxious. Think “young and eager” not “old and desperate”.
  5. Learn the hard way. I am not suggesting you start a meth habit or dabble in wire fraud. Date the bad boy, drink the tequila with a worm in it, try deep fried orangutan testicles whatever. Being wild and promiscuous is acceptable in your 20’s so own that.
  6. Find your skill. My dream is to be a Korean pop star but my singing voice could bring Helen Keller to pained tears. Through extreme therapy or delusion free self reflection figure out what you excel at and perfect it.
  7. Cut the umbilical cord. My parents stalk me (it’s a Jewish thing) and I think they are the best. However, there is something liberating about realizing your parents aren’t always right and you don’t need their approval to make your own decisions.
  8. Call your grandparents. They could die soon. Too real?
  9. Show off your shit. This is coming from someone who is currently wearing a flannel one piece and my gold glitter retainer. Our thigh gaps probably aren’t getting any wider or our boobs perkier so I say go for it. Slut.
  10. Embarrass yourself. There is something totally liberating about learning how to weather really embarrassing moments. Taking yourself TOO seriously is exhausting and quite frankly a buzzkill.
  11. Say you’re sorry. I try to avoid apologies at all costs but when you fuck up, you have to apologize. Unless you are an asshole.
  12. Learn to cook. I am not saying you need to rebel against your natural disdain for domesticity and become Ina Garten but everyone should know how to cook at least ONE thing decently.
  13. Take care of your skin. Wash your face and get some fucking eye cream. You can’t paint a masterpiece on a busted canvas… think about it.
  14. Find your karaoke song. This may be the most important thing in the whole list. It should be under 3 minutes, keep the crowd engaged AND showcase your best vocal/dance moves. It can take YEARS to perfect (Mine is “All The Things She Said” by T.A.T.U).
  15. Take a big risk. Quit your job, invest in a Scandinavian condom company, or move to a Kibbutz. This is the time to embrace change and suffer the consequences while we still have access to our childhood bedrooms hopefully still complete with Spice Girl memorabilia.
  16. Break-up with your adolescent boyfriend. I am uncertain why people think “high school sweethearts” are so adorable. I think it’s kind of creepy as fuck. I am all for later reconciliation but spread your….wings? It’s refreshing to be with someone whom you didn’t have to borrow mechanical pencils from.
  17. Read a fucking book. It gives you something to talk about and is an amazing companion for a solo dinner date.
  18. Find your go-to cocktail. If you are still drinking liquor from a plastic bottle it’s time to step your game up. I am still totally confused the difference between neat/up/shaken/stirred/with a twist – but I do know I like a Ketel One vodka martini… and I like it dirtayyy.
  19. Fall in love. Could I be more basic?
  20. Don’t rely on stupid lists for inspiration (but do share with other fellow 20-somethings via social media… obviously)

#FAKINGIT

I need to get something off my chest…up until last night I thought Ebola was a type of yoga or an alternate name for a fetus. This is why I don’t watch the fucking news – can you imagine my Google search letdown? I am too neurotic to keep up with current events and diseases. Also – still a bit unsure about what ISIS is – I get the gist but my serotonin levels really can’t handle another punch.

The beauty of my naiveté is that I am 100% able to keep up in conversations concerning all of the above. Sure, for the first 24 seconds I was pretty sure ISIS was a new Apple gadget or specialty snow cone store, but I have a special gift that I am here to share with you. This, ladies and gentleman, is the precious art of faking it.

The Cold War, sexual harassment policies, Obamacare, Burning Man, Child Labor Laws – all are things I could discuss for hours despite having no clue what they are. I’m assuming the Cold War was over a heating unit? I can go from Elle Woods to Rachel Maddow in a jiffy.

These past few weeks have been crazy. I’ve been lucky enough to be in some seriously undeserving meetings with important people I have no business working with. Honestly, I am still shocked I get more then 4 readers a day (1. Mom 2. Best friend 3. Myself 4. Myself again).

The whole experience has been humbling… Well, it’s actually been the opposite of humbling but I am trying to seem likeable. Why do people even use that expression in extremely complimentary situations? Have you noticed every time someone wins an Oscar they say how humbled they are? Awky.

These situations plus irrelevant faux friends I went to school with who are coming out of the woodworks thinking I have something to offer them (I don’t) and trying to mend our relationship has been fucking fantastic. I still remember you said I was ugly in 7th grade so no, I do not need a Social Media Assistant. #byefelicia

I’ve been feeling so high (naturally – pot gives me anxiety #shocker) I even deleted my Instafollow app which tracks who unfollows me on my social media outlets. If that isn’t growth I don’t know what is. I figure fuck it, if you don’t like my shit at least I have a lot of strangers that do and isn’t that what life’s really all about?

As far as all these new life changes go, I have had to rely on faking it more then ever. Without any desire to really learn new traits, what is a bitch SUPPOSED to do? Learn? Grow? Evolve? Uh… no thank you. As much as I’m DYING to add “Proficient in Excel” to my LinkedIn skills I’ve never wanted to come off too administratively strong. I have often said I’m the most driven and hardworking underachiever in the game and I mean that whole-heartedly.

In my head, I am always one search bar away from knowing just as much as the Yale grad with an Emmy to my left so there is nothing to be trepidatious about. In fact, I don’t even know what the word trepidatious means and does it really matter?

No.

Nod your head, make an offbeat joke, agree with whatever the majority is saying and go home and Google your little heart out. Sometimes it’s not about what you know – it’s about how well you can conceal what you don’t know.

Woes of a College Dropout

I used to get a lot of shit for dropping out of college. My scholarly friends assumed I’d either find a sugar daddy or I would pursue my high school dream of being a “Deal or No Deal” briefcase girl and when that failed, work as an overly opinionated retail associate. My parents were not too thrilled either, my father is a by the book Jew and my mother only pretended to be upset for the sake of a united front, “I care more about you being a good person than getting good grades and going to college” Well, we’re 0 for 2 on that one Ma.

I would run into family friends and parents who guffawed when they asked how school was going and I told them I had decided to pursue other options for myself. I could see their pity and judgment raping me head to toe “Well my little Suzie is just having the best time at Michigan, you should go visit her sometime to get the experience!” Vodka from a plastic bottle and burritos at 3am? I’m chill. People always just assumed I was lazy, overindulged or unmotivated and they are totally right but that is NOT why I dropped out of college.

Last night someone messaged me on Twitter (sidenote: I kind of hate twitter – its is just not my best portal for funny… too restricting) anyways, the message said “you shouldn’t be bragging about not being smart enough to graduate” Valid point. Some let their education define them – some people find validation in attending a prestigious school and let it become an elite factor that distinguishes them. I let my designer shoe’s do that for me. I mean…if I went to Yale I would abuse the fuck out of it, I would probably walk around dressed up as the mascot just to spark questions. Go Bobcats! The truth is school doesn’t make you smart, a syllabus doesn’t give you discipline and due dates don’t show you importance of time management. Not everyone benefits from the same path, especially a bitch like me.

My stint was brief – I would show up for certain classes here and there if there was a hott guy in the class, paid a few asians to take notes for me and even found myself at the dining hall for the pasta buffet. I didn’t have the drive to attend a prestigious university and would rather shoot myself in the asshole then be someone who has been in community college for 7 years (after 4 please just give up and become a drug dealer). I have always said I will only listen to myself and people who really know what they are talking about. The first class I attended in college was an English Lit class – the teacher wore bright blue eye shadow, had a hair wrap and a sign on the door that read “I don’t give you grades you earn them.” Gag me. She also sent me an email when I stopped going to class and said I was a mediocre writer but needed to “apply myself more” well duh. I wanted to tell her she needed to stop applying blue eyeliner but I controlled myself.

After one year I decided this shit wasn’t going to work for me. If I had to hook up with one more guy who slept in a fucking bunk bed I was going to lose it. I think college is an amazing time of your life for those who embrace it, I just never could. I wanted to drink out of proper stemware, start my shoe collection and create my own post-adolescent chapter. I would like to say I am just a naturally ambitious bitch – so not true. I am 60% fueled by others doubt and 40% fueled by my shoe board on pinterest.

The following is my collection of truths… I did not go to college, I barely passed Senior year of high school and I still have absolutely no clue how to navigate the recycling system. I can’t do Algebra, am unclear whether Hawaii is part of the United States and have no idea what the Civil War was about although I am super glad to hear it was civil. I haven’t felt an ounce of regret, haven’t read an educational book in 6 years and have no problem with the stigma that accompanies being a college dropout. I worked my ass off and didn’t let anybody tell me what i “should” be doing or what “should” my career path look like or that i “should” pay my parking tickets on time… shoulda, woulda, coulda, fuck off. I am a college dropout and PROUD bitches (please stay in school kids). I won’t attribute luck to how things have worked out in my favor ever. So no, I don’t have a degree hanging on my wall but I DO have an email from Lisa Vanderpump framed and that bitches, will suffice.

Try the Trend: Ear Cuffs

I have never considered myself a very trend driven person. I never thought Juicy sweatsuits were a good look, still have severe anxiety with high-low or mullet hemlines  and genuinely would rather shank myself in the trachea then bring back those fucking 90’s tattoo chokers… but actually. Once in a while I see a trend that really excites me and gives me a total fashion boner. Currently I am obsessed with jeweled ear cuffs. My favorite lezbo supermodel Cara Delevingne has been working this accessory like a mo-fucka and delusionally I convinced myself I could pull it off. The key to being someone that “can pull anything off” is just wearing whatever the fuck you want and convincing yourself you look fabulous and any negative feedback is simply passive aggressive jealousy disguised as an insult. Duh.

Ribbet collage

Sure it semi looks like a bedazzled bluetooth or a drag queens hearing aid but anything I can wear that sparkles I am into. Jeweled ear cuffs were popping up all over fashion week shown in Rodarte, Jason Wu and Chanel’s runway shows. Ribbet collageKristin Perry $14 – Ali Express $8 – Bauble Bar $28

I think a jeweled ear cuff is acceptable for almost all occasions and look best with a deep side part or top knot. I like mixing the edginess and all around shock value that comes along with a crystal ear cuff with more demure, conservative(ish) and feminine outfits. Here are a few wallet friendly options so you can start your lesbian phase with Michelle Rodriguez, grow out your eye brows and hang out with Stella McCartney at the fuckin met ball.