How to: Be a low-maintenance chick

In  my never-ending pursuit to make everyone better (a.k.a. more like me), it's time to address high-maintenance chicks.

See, there are lots of women (and men, I know! But I can't help men, they are impossible) who take themselves a little too seriously. They take forever to get ready or need constant attention and flattery or they dominate social media with rants about why their lives are hard. These people are HIGH-MAINTENANCE.

I do not consider myself high-maintenance. At least, not to other people. I take on most of the responsibility of making myself crazy. That's not high-maintenance, that's neurotic. These are two very different things.

Anyway, back to high-maintenance people. See, we all know someone like this. They're the people we are always waiting for because they need way more time to get their physical or psychological selves in order. So go ahead and share this post with them. They may hate you at first, but I'll take the bullet for you because I'll get over it. See? That's low-maintenance, people.

So here are some tips for being low-maintenance:

• Never take more than 45 minutes to get ready. Any more time than that and you better come out of that bathroom looking like Olivia Pope. To cut back on your routine, I recommend the following:
• Get back to basics makeup-wise. This is very easy for me because I just don't know how to put on makeup. Tinted moisturizer, bronzer (not ORANGEZER....try to look like the sun kissed your face, not like it took you under the bleachers and made you a woman), some blush and mascara. Maybe some eyeliner if you are feeling bloated and want to keep the attention above your shoulders. The whole process should take you roughly 2 1/2 minutes.
• Forget about hair styling equipment. A fast drive with your windows down is nature's hair dryer/volumizer.
• Stick with 3 or 4 standard outfits so you don't have to go through the pesky process of thinking about what to wear or what looks good on your body. Failure to do this can lead to way too much scrutiny and crying fits on your bed with one leg stuck in a too-tight-pair-of-jeans and your hands clutching an empty ice cream container.
• Stop obsessing about yourself. Accept that what you see is what you get. You can't change anything in a day, so just build a bridge and get over the fact that your hands look old or you don't have as much money as someone else or that you are just kind of a bad person. Deal with it later.
• I give you permission to leave your house without making sure it's spotless. You really don't have to OCD your way through the house while I'm waiting for you outside in my car, which inevitably has the gas light on.
• No one cares about your unpopular opinion. Ha! Yeah, I'm sure I've lost a few of you there. But here's my rationale: Generally speaking, the opinions we have on a day-to-day basis are unimportant. Where do you want to hang this picture? Where should we go for happy hour? Don't you LOVE CrossFit? If your opinion on these things is wildly out of touch with normal people (or at least the other people in the conversation), you don't need to start a war over it. If no one likes your opinion, don't freak out: either keep quiet or have better opinions in the future to make things easier on yourself and everyone else. 
• Stop telling yourself you "can't" do something. I thought I couldn't mow a lawn and was going to wait for Geo to do it. But instead, I figured it out myself...a very low-maintenance person thing to do. If you keep saying "I can't kill spiders," or "I can't drink anything but Kettle One," or "I can't parallel park," then you won't ever step outside your comfort zone. You are setting yourself up to be maintained at a high level (a.k.a. being high-maintenance).
• When we have free time, Geo always says "We don't HAVE to do ANYthing," meaning that it's definitely okay to sometimes just chill and do nothing. You don't have to fill your every minute with activities. You don't have to stress about meeting imaginary deadlines. You are allowed to just have free time, you know. 
• Remember: Perfection is EXTREMELY boring. You'll never be perfect, and you really shouldn't try to be. Trust me: you've got flaws. Probably tons of them. But rather than spend 5 hours trying to cover them up every day or obsess over them, just remember that everyone else has 'em too, and you can just make fun of those flaws behind their backs to make yourself feel better. 

No one is necessarily low-maintenance all the time, but no one should EVER be high-maintenance all the time. These people make it exhausting to do anything. Getting rid of some high-maintenance habits can make you -- and your friends/family -- feel so much better. 

TV MVP

It's no secret that since moving back to Mpls, I get to spend tons of time with actual, real-life  people and that's just tops. But I've noticed something...a trend that I didn't ever notice before. At least once per hang out, with just about anyone, the subject of TV is discussed. What are you watching? What's good? What's bad? What's new?

It all inevitably comes up (fine, maybe I'm the one to bring it up most times, but SEMANTICS). And it occurred to me recently that, much like any conversation about any celebrity in the past 20 years, I seem to know a whole lot.

And you know, it's not surprising when people say "Wow, you sure watch a lot of TV." I mean, I do. But the hard part is that I can see how jealous everyone else gets when I go on and on about how I binge-watched Scrotal Recall without regret, and I can read between the lines.

I know that what they actually mean to say is "Pharon, it seems like there's nothing you can't do. You've got a job you love, a social life to be envied by erryone, a rockin' body that you evidently are keeping tucked away underneath that 15-20 pounds of wine and bread (What Would Jesus Eat?), really long hair, better-than-average hygiene, the funniest blog probably on Earth AND a clean house. How do you ALSO manage to watch so much TV?"

Don't feel bad, you guys. I know I lead the kind of life that is simply unattainable by others, and I simply don't expect anyone else to keep up with me. But I also am a natural Helper. I want to help people achieve what comes so naturally to me. So, if you think you are ready to really commit to the rigorous TV-watching lifestyle enjoyed by premier watchers like me, here are some tips to get you started.

• Have a TV in every room in your house. This way, you can watch something in bed, while cooking, while waiting for your Uber in your foyer. Don't want to put a TV in your bathroom, laundry room or back porch? It's called a PHONE, people, invest in one.
• Have a work schedule that ends 2 hours earlier than all your friends. That leaves 120 solid minutes to watch Friends reruns and Bloodline without compromising on anything.
• Make sure all your friends have babies. This ensures any social plans you have with them will end by 8 p.m. Then you can go home, stay up for 4 more hours and never miss a beat.
• While you're picking your friends and work schedule, also pick a mate that is obsessed with video games. Without the constant need to provide entertainment to someone else, you can focus on TV.
• Prioritize! I won't lie: Watching a lot of TV does not happen without sacrifices. You may have to put away books you are reading and opt for a boring Wed. workout class instead of a fun Thurs. night one so you don't miss Scandal. But nothing worth doing comes without sacrifice.
• Clear out the clutter. This means don't waste valuable TV watching time doing meaningless stuff like cooking, having another hobby, putting on pants or mowing the lawn. Save your non-TV time for only social/fun activities.
• Change your way of thinking. Too many people think TV is just mindless entertainment. But guess what: it's not. There's TONS to be learned on TV, from cooking to home repair to documentaries about Burt's Bees.
• Expand your horizons. A year ago, I would have never considered myself a wordly person. But I've seen like EVERY British show on Netflix, and now I can exchange pleasantries with the Britishiest of Brits.
• Pray for rain. No one expects anyone to do anything when it's raining out. Check the forecast and look for clouds. Plan accordingly. 
• Don't be married to the idea of noticing every. little. detail. Much of my TV time happens in conjunction with another task. Crafting? Paying bills? Writing blogs? Putting on makeup? I can't do these things in silence! Yeah, it's called multi-tasking. Try it.

But the most important thing is that you don't take on too much too fast. It's like a marathon (I imagine). You can't start off running for 100 miles or whatever. You have to start with a little sprint and then a nap or two. But if you stick to it, I know you can succeed in watching as much TV as you want. I believe in you.

8 signs you brush your teeth like Britney Spears (You won't believe #4!!!!)

I'll admit it: I'm the biggest sucker for clickbait. I love anything that promises to tell me what character in Game of Thrones I am based on my salad preference, or why people my age love Tetris, or why I've been eating cereal wrong my entire life. It seems so simple and it makes me feel so...informed and understood at the most superficial and mass-appeal level. And what blogger doesn't LIVE for tons of clicks and low bounce rates?! I want in on that mojo, mofos.

So I bring you:

8 signs you brush your teeth like Britney Spears (You won't believe #4!!!!)

1. Halfway through, you shave your head, go nuts and finish the job with an umbrella
2. You feel like recordings of your bathroom renditions of "Hit Me Baby [One more Time]" should go platinum...and then they do
3. Brushing requires low-slung jeans and a boa constrictor
4. You use a Sonicare, but then it fell in the toilet. After a few years, you fished it out, however, and found it works better than ever
5. While brushing, you decide to make a movie about it that is critically panned by everyone but absolutely loved by PharonSquare
6. All your teeth are 24 karat because everything you touch turns to gold
7. Kevin Federline is a horrible, horrible memory that you sometimes think about when you look at yourself in the bathroom mirror
8. You spend at least a few minutes a day thinking about the 80s, when everything was so much easier and more innocent; when Justin Timberlake was just another kid on Mickey Mouse Club and ALF could have been real

NAILED. IT.

Shout out to Quinn Kitchen Miller as the lucky winner of Blog Mad Libs!!! Well done, girl!

A plea for honesty

I'm a flake. I have turned into the very thing that has kept me up in tight fists and angry thoughts all night. Since moving to Minneapolis, I have neglected my most coveted relationships, including this blog. I'm sorry.

But the reason I even know this is because one of my favorite Life People (the people I consider the most important in my life) brought it to my attention. She told me that I have been...not myself. She was kind, concerned, but most of all, honest. She was all "You're kind of being rude, and you kind of need to get your act together."

And thus, the Enlightenment of Truth was bestowed upon me. I thought I was skating by on half-promises and non-committals, thinking I was the only one affected by my weird, new-found behavior of never giving an answer to people. But you know what? That's rude. And irresponsible. But mostly? It's effing rude.

The worst part was that I made myself think that no one else would notice that I never gave a firm answer or made a hard-and-fast decision. I assumed, in my cloudy haze of self-centeredness, that no one else could possibly be more affected by my decisions (or non-decisions, as it were) as me. I somehow mish-mashed this system in my head that if I understood my decisions (or, again, non-decisions), everyone else would understand them as well.

Enter: "Get Over Yourself, Pharon" territory.

I always thought I had this grand self-awareness and clear understanding of social cues. I thought "People who are chronically late think my time is less important than theirs," or "If you say you're going to do something, do it." Then I got all mixed up. I admit it. I got too big for my britches. I started feeling very important and popular and busy, and somehow I decided that I was the only one who really needed to know what was going on. Classic Rude Girl mistake.

Perhaps the most important lesson in all this is that I needed someone (or, fine, three people ) to be honest with me. I needed someone to tell me, calmly and earnestly, that my behavior as of late has been the pits. As in, the armpits of human behaviors. The worst, stinkiest, lackluster-iest of of all behaviors.

I'll admit it: At first I felt mad. I felt attacked. But then I felt ashamed. I was ashamed for being so oblivious to the fact that my actions (or, ugh, AGAIN, non-actions) had consequences. But THEN, I felt empowered. I knew what was wrong, I knew I was being an a$$, and I KNEW I could fix it by just being considerate and trying to get back to the good ol' fashioned Midwestern girl who knew right from wrong. Or rather, right from rude.

I think people are afraid of hearing the truth about themselves, and perhaps we all should be. We can all be monstrous, selfish people (because people are the WORST). But I truly think that if someone is doing something that legitimately negatively affects other people (and can be changed), that person should know about it. And not in a rude, aggressive way, but in the "Listen, I love you, but you need to brush your teeth/stop being a flake/start returning phone calls/stop hoarding shoe boxes," kind of way.

I guess I worry, though, that not everyone will be as receptive and amazing as I was at hearing some hard truths. (Yup, I complimented myself in the midst of this post about me being a flake. I guess I can still muster up some self-righteousness.) People get angry and defensive when they learn that they are not perfect. I think that's human nature, though.

Honesty is a tough row to hoe. It's really not easy, and it takes a lot of thought and care if it's done right. And people don't always want to (or aren't prepared to) hear the truth. Sometimes, they don't really NEED to be told, either. But if, when it really matters, we can learn to be honest -- and not just, like, RUDE honest for the sake of being a d!ck and projecting our own insecurities -- I think we could all feel a little better.

Meanwhile, now I'm terrified that this post will make people feel like it's super okay to have Open Season on Pharon and how I'm just the worst. But keep in mind, people, that honesty is like bread. It can be delicious and nourishing and fill your dinner table with meaningful conversation, but it can also make you ugly and fat if you eat too much.

Cutting the cord and other tragedies

Dudes, it's been a rough couple of weeks. Moving, car accident, an absent husband (out of town on a work trip) AND a grownup conversation with my dad about life insurance...it's all just really kind of making me a crazy person with 100 empty bottles of wine in our recycling.

But perhaps the biggest travesty through which I have suffered is the fact that we did it. We cut the cord. We don't have cable anymore.

I'm onboard with it. I really am. I find it absolute highway robbery that we paid $100 a month for TV. I can't stand that. We are a content-consuming population who places value on our entertainment that we would be willing to pay for it if we weren't forced to also buy 600 things we didn't want. We are being controlled by cable companies looking to make money, and it's super dumb. Especially because I spend most of my viewing time watching rerun episodes of Law and Order: SVU, Friends and Chopped. Anyway, for our purposes, cable was ridiculously expensive.

I feel like I was bred to be ready for this. I never had cable growing up. My parents told us that we couldn't have cable because we lived on a creek, and they couldn't dig underneath the creek to get the appropriate connections. It made sense.

But it was all a lie. My neighbors, the Fosters, got cable like the DAY they moved in and I was painfully jealous that they knew what was going on on Hey Dude and I didn't. But the point is, I never really NEEDED cable. I got along just fine without it. I learned all the swear words I needed to learn in high school. Plus, I was too busy being a neurotic teen to even care about what was on TV.

Unfortunately, now it's different. I really kind of depend on cable more than I expected. I have TV on a LOT and playing recordings of shows is just not the same. Also? I just like to have noise happening. Especially when I'm bouncing around unpacking. But when I have to stop every 40 or 120 minutes or whatever to click "Yes, I'm still watching," I feel both annoyed and judged.

Plus, I don't ALWAYS want to have to choose what I watch and just really commit to that. It makes me nervous. There's some theory that Geo has tried to teach me about having too many options: the paradox of choice. It basically says that having too many options is not a benefit to anyone. It creates anxiety and the fear of missing out on something. Both of these things are just the worst in my eyes.

So yes, I'm infinitely glad I can watch Archer and Friends and, like, only 4 seasons of SVU at a moment's notice. But I miss the spontaneity and immediacy of regular TV. Also, I miss things like Rehab Addict and Impractical Jokers and the Daily Show that I just can't get on Netflix.

I don't know what other people do. I'm sure you guys, who are way smarter than me, have found some sort of sweet spot where you aren't selling your blood for cable but you also aren't living in a time 15 months ago. Care to share your secrets with me???

A fine "howdya do"

Well, it's been, let's see....4 nights since we moved our stuff into our new place in Minneapolis. It's kind of been a whirlwind. So much unpacking, adjusting and generally trying to figure things out. There was some strangeness, to be sure. I've been putting on pants, like, EVERY DAY, you guys. I've seen friends and family without having to then ask to crash at their houses. I BRUSHED MY HAIR this morning! Whaaaa?

But I learned a hard truth today, y'all. A hard truth indeed. No city is without flaw. And this came in the form of a fairly upsetting message.

I got into a car accident this morning.

It was minor. I'm fine, the other dude is fine. The only casualty is the beautiful front bumper of my car, and part of the Americano I had just purchased and snuggled into my cup holder. But a lot happens in the split seconds of a collision. A lot of things run through your mind after even the most minor fender bender that might surprise you. In my case, I had three thoughts. In this order.

1) OMG, I'm an idiot...but also? HE'S an idiot! The city planners are idiots! Everyone's an idiot!!!
2) My parents are going to be sooooo mad!
3) I'm really scared and I literally have no idea what I'm supposed to do.

Obvs, the first thing I did was to call Geo. I got his voicemail. Darn you, important husband who has a job! (He did call me back less than 3 minutes later to make sure I was okay and was not hysterical, which was entirely possible). But then I did what any normal grown woman who owns her own vehicle and is a very mature person does when she is met with a difficult traffic situation. I called my mommy.

I was scared and annoyed at myself and mostly just needed some reassuring words. I was not disappointed. My mom first made sure I was okay, and then with this levity, which in hindsight was just so perfectly appropriate, she said brightly "Welcome back!"

Luckily, my parents weren't mad, and I had a boatload of help figuring out what to do. But the most reassuring thing that I've heard lately came toward the end of my call to my mom. She asked "Do you want me to come over there?"

See, she could have, if I had asked her to. I'm only like 15 mins away. But I'm a grown woman. I can cry after an accident all by my grown-up self. I laughed/sighed and said "No, it's all good," and it really was. I came home, figured out insurance stuff, got back to work and just generally got myself together.

This shockingly upsetting, but almost-non-incident taught me a few things. One? Never try to turn left on Cedar Ave. Ever. Even when you and everyone else on the road thinks it's okay to do so, don't. Two? This is why we change out of pajamas in the morning, people! But most importantly, it taught me that I'm incredibly co-dependent on my friends and family. Is that a bad thing? I don't think so. It helps me keep things in perspective and get my bearings. I don't feel so lost or floopy (which is a word. Check your Friends history, people) when I know I have people around me.

So, anyway, my front bumper is now nestled in my car, a reminder that I am neither perfect nor alone. A reminder that, as my friend Rachel said, this crazy town is not for the weak. A reminder that sometimes your day starts like a big steamy pile of poop and ends up fine and even enjoyable when you know some good peeps.

All this I learned, and we don't even have cable hooked up. Big city livin'! I hope to chalk this up, in the grand scheme of things, as a win.

A Moving Experience

Moving. I'm moving. In case you live in Siberia and just got Wifi, I should tell you that this weekend, I'm moving back to Minneapolis from Rochester.

It's been a rough 18 months, to be sure. I've learned a lot about being a wife, being alone, and being a person without ready access to beautiful lakes and nomnom restaurants. However, if I'm being honest, moving has been a little more emotional than I thought it would be. I love our house. I love the fact that I have 4 awesome people in this town who are regularly amazing and sometimes similarly bored and let me hang out with them from time to time. I love that nothing in this town is more than 5 minutes away.

Still, I'm SUPER ready to get back to Minneapolis. If I ever saw those movies about that troll who wants that ring that all the hairy-toed little people have, I'd compare my feelings to that joy the troll has when he gets that ring. (I've literally NEVER watched Lord of the Rings, because that troll and the little hairy-toed people freak me out, but I feel like I kind of get the gist.)

Regardless of where I'm moving to or from, the fact is that moving is definitely the stinky pits.

Turns out, I'm PERFECTLY happy eating nachos off a paper plate with a side of bread buttered with a wooden spoon, in spite of the fact that I have 12 different nacho-specific dishes on which they should be served and at least 8 different kinds of spreaders courtesy of Crate and Barrel. Oh, and spoiler alert: Wine tastes the same out of a plastic cup as it does out of any one of the 8 different types of wine glasses I have. And as much as I love all the clothes in my 4 enormous IKEA bags, turns out I'm totally fine just wearing the few items I've packed into a single suitcase. Also, all my Kate Spade boxes (which I have embarrassingly saved and kept in yet ANOTHER IKEA bag) seem less beautiful when I have to figure out how to fit them into a Subaru Impreza.

So yeah, I have way too much crap everywhere, but it's pretty so I love it! :)

However, it does not escape me that moving with a man is THE. WORST. Granted, I haven't done this before. I've always been extraordinarily immature and individual about moving. I move MY stuff only and ONLY when my mom and sister come over to pack for me.

No more! I'm a wife and grown up now, so I've gotta step up. It kind of sucks because when you move with a spouse, you can't throw away a box of "probably useless documents." You have to pretend it's important to you. You have to look at a Tupperware that has 2 sweaters in it and be like "Is this something you want to save even thought it's incredibly inconvenient?" instead of being like "DOESN'T FIT, THROWING AWAY!" In my moving life, I just throw away stuff that doesn't fit in whatever box I happen to have at the time. Bummer when Geo's like "Yeah, those are my fall golf sweaters. Don't touch that."

Also, he doesn't obsessively wrap every piece of glassware in 23 pounds of paper, so I regularly have to ask him to buy more and more paper and boxes.

Part of me -- actually, an increasingly enormous part of me -- wishes that I would have left all our packing to Geo. He would probably have gotten it done WAY faster and in WAY fewer boxes than me. But I would like to think there would be way more broken vases and mis-categorized tidbit plates. Then again, there probably wouldn't. It's not like we are moving live organs across the Atlantic Ocean before the dawn of modern shipping.

I don't know. I guess in closing, I'll say this: I've been hard on Rochester. But it's been hard on me. It's been 18 months of goose-poop-filled lakes and hanging out alone a lot. And the pervasive amount of chain restaurants has just kind of kicked me in my already-dirt-covered face.

HOWEVER! I have found some amazing friends here, and have learned a lot about myself and my marriage. And for those reasons, I will feel sad tomorrow when we load our crap into a truck to take it back to Minneapolis. I will look out on our patio and think "I won't see these deep dark skies and bright stars at night anymore," and I will dance around in our 2nd bathroom because who knows WHEN we'll have a place with two bathrooms again?

But more than anything, I will remember that I don't need 90% of the Crate and Barrel $hit I registered for.