a southern gentleman, he is not.

steel magnolias.

Apparently I'm in some kind of romantic/manhungry mood (never thought you'd see those two adjectives slashed, did you?). Today's post is completely due to the fact that we have just hired an endangered species: a true-blooded Southern Gentleman. It really is amazing, he's 22 and acts just like my grandfather and uncles. I just love it.

I've been asked what qualifies a man as a Southern Gentleman. After thinking about it for a bit, this is what I came up with:

1. They are chivalrous to a fault. Opening car doors is just the beginning for these guys. You know in Say Anything, when Lloyd kicks the glass out of Diane's way? $100 says he learned that from a Southerner.

2. They're friendly. He'll shake your hand, smile when he meets you and he makes a point to repeat your name back. He always introduces people formally, includes others in conversation, and will compliment women genuinely. They will never let you stand, always give up their seat. They always have a great smile and a kiss on the cheek for the ladies and a strong handshake for men.

3. They drink scotch or whiskey on the rocks. A double. During the summer they usually turn to beer, but never light and always in a coozie. They play Hank Williams on the jukebox and will pull you to your feet and dance with you in the middle of a crowded bar. They'll swing you around and dip you and you'll squeal like a little girl and blush and turn red.

4. They're immaculately dressed in seersucker, linen, pastels, and sunglasses. They actually take the time to press their clothes (or take them to a dry cleaner). Shirts are always tucked in with a belt (no frat tuck) and sunglasses are secured with croakies. In the winter they wear Carhartt's and button-downs.

5. They've got the accent. A sweet tone to their voice, a slow drawl that makes the words sound dramatic. "Well, don't you look nice tonight," will make you weak in the knees. They always say "ma'am" and "sir" regardless of how much older the person is.

6. When they fall for a girl, they're smitten. Southern women may act fragile, but we're steel magnolias and the only men who can deal with us are the true Southern Gentlemen.

ps. THIS was the first image when I googled "southern gentleman." WTF, Google?

belated.

My parents' 30th anniversary was on Monday. Apart from the fact that I completely forgot about it, this is a pretty huge milestone. I mean, really. 30 years. They've spent more of their lives together than they have apart. I honestly have no idea how they've done it, or how I'm expected to do the same.

I constantly tell them that they have ruined any shot for me to have a good relationship, or any relationship for that matter. They are just far too perfect together. And not in that annoyingly fake perfect way. Sure, they fight and bicker on occassion, but that's what love is. I mean, they've lived together for 30 YEARS. I have never once doubted their love for each other and its apparent that they honestly enjoy each other's company. I have no idea how I'm expected to find someone that will complement me so well, who I'll never get sick of eating dinner with, who I'll want to father my children.

Last Christmas my mom told me that she undoubtedly loved my dad more than she loved any of her children. After the initial shock of this statement wore off (the horror!), I began to understand her point. She chose him, out of the millions of men in the world, and he chose her. We were a result of that choice and their love (a wonderful, obscenely perfect result). He's got the added bonus of creating us, so that warrants more love, I suppose. Plus, as she said, she only has to live with us for 18 years, she's stuck with him for the rest of her life.

So, I'm screwed. My parents' relationship is 1 in a million and I'm not going to settle for anything less. When perfection is your example, I can imagine it will be hard to find that kind of perfect myself. They say that women often look for men that remind them of their fathers. As I realize that I am turning more and more into my mother every day (evidenced by my control freak-ness and progressively earlier bedtime), I think that's a solid theory. If there is a man out there who was raised by a single mom, has an insatiable work ethic, baby blue eyes, horrendous fashion sense, gives money to Republicans but (I think) is a closeted liberal, only eats Rold Gold thin pretzels, stays up till 4am to discuss world issues with his kids, and will be bald by the time he's 28, give me a ring (no, not that kind of ring... a ring on the phone). We're probably perfect for one another.


*it's a random pic, but i love it. they're drunk, sitting on the floor at fripp and my mom is checking to see if my dad is bleeding after an particularly violent play session with the dog. and no, the dog is not dead.*

"that was easy!"

to the intern:

when you come in on friday and you see this sitting on your desk:
instead of this:


i swear erin and i had nothing to do with it. and yes, that's jello. you can eat it if you want.

c3po's wet dream.

I don't even know if I need to use words here. It's just... awful. I don't care that those leggings cost $100,000 (no, really, they do) it's just bad. Is part of the reason that I hate this outfit so much because Beyonce is wearing it? Yes, probably. But who cares? Her right boob is rather precarious.

However, for how much I hate hate HATE this outfit, I think I'm a little bit in lust with this one:
I know, I know. She looks a little bit ridiculous.... but also a little bit HOT. I mean, really, if you could pull this off, you'd wear it too!

hey men, listen up!

I don't know what we ladies are going to have to do to get through to you! Women are always complaining about the lack of decent guys in this city, and after this weekend, I'm beginning to agree with them. You all obviously didn't have the proper father figure to teach you how to talk to women, so I'm going to give you a couple of pointers.

1. It's 2007 so I thought this was a well known fact, but apparently not. Pick up lines do not work. They never will, unless used in a completely ironic/funny way.
2. When talking to a woman wearing big hoop earrings, it's probably not a good time to expunge your theory on how women who wear big earrings just want to get laid.
3. Don't wear gold chains. Ever. That also applies to rings with any kind of gem in them, shoes that have both leather AND velcro, and pants with a hammer loop.
4. When getting ready to go out, lay off that extra spritz of cologne, the second pass of hair gel, and button that button right back. We all know you're a man, we don't need to see your chest hair.
5. When you're talking to a woman, it might help to actually pay attention to her reaction to you. Are her arms crossed? Is she scanning the room for someone, anyone, an exit of some sort? Does she answer your questions curtly? Does she turn down your offer for another drink? Does she tell you she has to go to the other side of the bar to call a friend? If so, just thank her for her time and walk away. Don't ask for her number. That's just awkward. And for the love of God, don't touch her. Not even on the arm. That's when you get bitchslapped.

We're really not all that scary. Feel free to approach us. If you're funny, not skeezy, and don't take yourself too seriously, you'll probably have a good conversation.

i heart southerners.

Yesterday, in addition to being the summer solstice and the day of the best concert of all time (Wilco!), was Annual Seersucker Day up on the Hill. Trent Lott started the whole thing about 10 years ago and it has caught on with many of the Southern Senators and staffers. Even Hillary Clinton's Executive Intern was caught in the faboo fabric! :)

And yes, the guy in the black shoes is Ted Stevens, from ALASKA. White Bucks, Ted, white Bucks...