We Hate the Hunt

The festies went apartment hunting today. This is how we feel about it.

MarleyPout

As you can see, we don’t really appreciate running around town looking at expensive, yet shitty (sorry, mom!) apartments. Carpet? Gross. Damp carpet? Gross-er. Utilities? Parking? We hate our lives. It didn’t help that it was rainy, parking downtown is a train wreck, and that we’re still a bit up-in-the-air on what we can afford.

So where does that leave us? Homeless and empty handed. To be fair, we did get some pretty photos of the weather.

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(Drippiness is allowed outside only)

Crackly Paint

(Pretty, yes. Functional, no.)

Our disappointing day has led me to one conclusion: we need our own festie HOUSE that 1. didn’t contain a zoo at one point, 2. doesn’t sport infested carpets, and 3. is not going to be a waste of our money. On our way back home Marley and I teamed up to call the ole’ realtor and arrange some showings. Fingers crossed that this time around the hunt will be fruitful. Since I’ve already seen 27 places…one can only hope that I’m getting closer to actually buying a place.

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Confessions of a Luluaddict

I (obviously) have a confession to make. I am most likely addicted to a certain expensive brand of clothing. I have made countless promises to myself to hold off my spending and even gone weeks where I felt like I might be successful at weaning myself off of my obsession with colorful stretchy pants.


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Unfortunately, despite being halfway across the world surrounded by things that are infinitely more beautiful/delicious/interesting than my iPhone screen, I have been locked to its little glowing face every time I can snag a bit of wifi. Every night, I have stayed up late playing temple run while waiting for little eBay timers to count down. In the mornings I have been refreshing the lululemon home pages to see if anything new had been posted while I was sleeping. It’s a bit ridiculous. (And annoying).

I’m not sure yet how I will deal with these issues, but they (the cloud of mystery people floating in my head) have always said that the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem. So there it is. I have a (first world) problem: I buy too much pretty sh*t that I probably most definitely do not need.

To be fair, I KNOW that I am not the only one with this problem. The steady stream of small packages that arrive at my house every day implies that my lovely roommates may be suffering with the same (albeit less extreme versions) tendencies.

Oops.

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With love, from Istanbul

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IYCRTTYMBAF!

(Translation: If you can read this then you might be a festie!)

Check out this weird “conversation” between Barley and Mecca yesterday…

Festie Conversation

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LYF

Happy Birthday Loretta Frances!

Today is my mother, Lollie’s, birthday! So I just wanted to do a short blog saying HAPPY BIRTHDAY! and sharing some of my favorite things about her and some of my favorite memories…

Isn't she adorbs?!

Isn’t she adorbs?!

I love this photo of her — I’m not really sure how I ended up with it, actually.. For as long as I can remember it has been hanging in my bedroom… Like, since I was little. I could be making that up – you know how memory works.. Things start to get fuzzier as you go back further.. In any case, I think one of the reasons I love this photo is because it amazes me every day how similar my mother and I are. We are truly twin souls, and I feel so thankful and blown away by it every day. I also love that it is a portrait, but it feels casual and intimate. Like she was just playing on the couch and popped up to see who was on the other side. So sweet.

This was for a Xmas card. I was a king?

This was for a Xmas card. I was a king?

My mama has always given me every ounce of love and support that I have ever needed. She has helped to shape me into the person that I am and am becoming every day. She has taught me to play, to be creative, to work hard. Everything in moderation. But sometimes it is okay to splurge. She gave me my design instincts and has cheered me on as I develop my own aesthetic. It is truly disgusting and sappy how much of a role model she really is for me.

This is why I am who I am...

This is why I am who I am…

Do you see those two goons up there? Aren’t they beautiful? Can’t you just feel the love? Because I can, and it is making me giddy//nauseous 🙂 But seriously, doesn’t my dad look phresh and 40??? And my mom. In my brain she is perpetually 35. They don’t call her Hot Shot for nothing! Speaking of, one random memory that somehow got saved in the longterm spaces of my brain goes a little something like this… I don’t remember how old I was, maybe 12 or something? 10? Anyways, it must have been around this time of year, MAYBE March, but there was snow (because we live in WISCO), but it was also sunny. Like where-are-my-sunglasses-I-am-blind-now sunny. And my mother, the tanning freak (I use this term affectionately) that she is, threw on her swim suit and went into our ‘back yard’ to catch some rays. I remember her swim suit – it was a two-piece. Royal blue with a lime green and white floral print on it. Kind of sporty looking. Now that I think about it, I feel like this moment has stuck in my memory because it is just completely ridiculous and fun. Which is another thing about my mother that I admire. She is cray. She’s got a freak flag, and she flies it. And she has always taught her children to do the same. Whether I realize it or not, I wake up every day and try to be that woman who lays in the snow in March to catch some rays JUST BECAUSE. I try to add a little unexpected crazy into my day. Because otherwise what is the point?

So, Loretta, thank you for having a spirit that is as bright as a million suns and love that radiates infinitely around you.

A Little Resolutionizing

I’m not even going to bother to define that word. I’ll just come clean: IT’S FAKE I JUST NEEDED A TITLE.

It’s that time of year again, and since my festie was so motivating, I’m going to share a resolution post of my own. It’s ok that the first week+ of the year was resolution free, right? “Not procrastinating” isn’t really on my to-do list. That was sooo 2010. However, since this topic will only be mildly appropriate/entertaining for a few more days, I figured that I should probably get on it ASAP.

I’ll start by saying that I LOVE to-do lists. Original, huh? Crazy type-A girl loves to make lists upon lists of things to do. When I was in school, these lists lived in my sketchbook and usually consisted of next steps I had to take for my furniture pieces written side-by-side with reactions I had to remember to stop or writing goals for my labs (barf). These days, my lists are on pink (bigger barf) post-it notes stuck to every inch of my desk—there are even post-it chains where one square wasn’t enough so I stuck another on the end to accommodate more items. Seriously. They’re even on my desk phone. The contents of the post-its are significantly less interesting: call so-and-so, prep for meeting, take things to drycleaners (this never gets crossed off the list because I always seem to forget that my coats need cleaning!), yada yada yada. Biggest barf (#beinggrownupsucks). Every now and then I’ll decide that I need to start from scratch and crumple everything up into a sticky post-it ball. I hope these are recyclable because they’re the only things that end up in the bin.

Post-its, post-its errywhere.

Post-its, post-its errywhere.

All this is to bring me to my first only resolution: 1) Make better lists.

Yes, it is the most generic, achievable goal I could have settled on (other than something like, “smile every day” or “laugh more” which are things that I do anyways and are on par with, “brush teeth regularly.”) **NOT to say that these aren’t perfectly fine resolutions for someone else…like Oscar.

ANYways, the “Better Lists” goal is to encourage me to get back to what I love to do. Since they’re “To-Do” lists, I figure that I can put things like, “Find a studio space” and, “Stop checking your email from bed” on them and I’ll be happier for it. What else will my Better List have on it? Read below and judge:

The Better List

1. Find a studio space. Told you this would be here. The thing I have missed the most about school is definitely the studio. I  can hardly believe that I’ve gone almost 6 months without touching a table saw—it breaks my heart more than a little bit.

2. Snowboard like the obsessive freak I am. It’s a seasonal goal, but one that means a lot to me. I got really carried away with school last winter and I’m pretty sure I never made it out (WHAT!?!!!). Which makes me feel like yelling a big “EFFF YOUUU” to myself. So this winter I will be have already started blowing all of my monies on lift tickets and transportation.

3. Go home more often. I miss real food, and my mother is an AMAZING cook. Ugh, drooling just thinking about it. I had really terrible Chinese takeout about a month ago and afterwards cried inside a little like a homesick tweenager. Will be heading home this weekend and eating myself into a coma.

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4. Speak more Chinese. I swear I can speak another language; I just don’t really do it that often. AND I MISS IT. I was on the phone with my grandma for an hour this Christmas, and I found myself struggling to describe my job—NOT because it’s a struggle to describe what I do in any language (which it is), but because I couldn’t think of the right words to tell her that my job was difficult to describe without making it sound like I just didn’t know how to speak anymore. This becomes extra embarrassing when you realize that I didn’t even start speaking English until I started school. Fail.

5. Race pace under 8. A step back from last year’s race pace goal. I’ve been doing too much yoga and now I’m even slower. Whoops. On the plus side, my friend Patricia and I have found our newest talent: Snowga. Crow pose strapped into a snowboard would not have been possible before this year. Core, baby, core.

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6. Stop checking my damn email in bed. Because getting notified that you have more work to do right before you go to bed or right after you wake up just freaking sucks. Also, looking at a little lighted phone screen in the dark hurts my eyes, and my dad always told me it’s bad for them. I don’t want to go blind in 2013.

There you have it: the start of The Better List. As far as I’m concerned, I’ve accomplished what I set out to do this year: I’ve made a better list. While I feel no pressure to do anything else, we all know the best part of to-do lists comes when you get to cross things off.

Happy New Beers!

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New Year’s Festolutions

Well, it’s about that time. That time when you realize the year is over and you better hurry up and eat the rest of the chips in the house because come tomorrow FESTOLUTIONS (or simply just resolutions) will be put into action, and if you are anything like me, you set wildly unachievable resolutions like “Yeah, I will quit eating chips, eat a balanced diet, run miles upon miles every day, do yoga for two hours each night, clean daily, bake pies for my neighbors, figure out what my dream job is get my dream job, get a puppy, get a guy, AND achieve world peace.” So yeah. . . It’s time to eat all of the chips in the house because, woah, are you feeling as much pressure as I am with these festolutions???

This is what happens when you eat too many chips (or kibble in this puppy’s case)

But really, I am a total weenie and LIVE for nostalgia. That’s right, I live so that I can look back on things fondly. Just ask my brother CE, he witnesses me reminiscing over signs, songs, and sayings whenever we hang out (Sorry, Bro.)

nos*tal*gia noun. A sentimental longing or wistful affection for the past, typical for a period or place with happy personal associations (for me, this is basically any fond memory, usually associated with people, music, food, and funny phrases or occurrences)

INFACT, I have developed a new kind of nostalgia (or at least I haven’t ever heard anyone else talk about it, so this is me coining it) – Fustalgia. Yeah, that is Future+Nostalgia.

fus*tal*gia noun. A sentimental longing or wistful affection for instances in the future; feelings of nostalgia towards nostalgic moments that have not yet occurred

Naturally, I enjoy these last few days of the year because I can get my nostalgia AND my fustalgia on! And this year I’m going to share it with you! Aren’t you running for the door lucky!

I was out with a friend the other day, and we were discussing things that we’d like to do – some might call these ‘things’ goals – and after he listed one of his goals, I exclaimed, “OOOOH!!!! THAT WOULD MAKE A GREAT NEW YEARS RESOLUTION!” That is in all caps because I yelled it because I am that embarrassing girl at the quiet bar who is yelling because she A) gets easily excited B) doesn’t realize how loud her voice is and C) doesn’t really care how loud her voice is BECAUSE WHATEVER SHE IS YELLING ABOUT IS OBVIOUSLY AWESOME. So I told him his idea was awesome, and that it would make a great New Years Resolution. His face immediately turned inside out and fell onto the floor. No, just kidding, that would be gross/scary. But he did look at me like he wanted to throw up on me/like I was crazy (still gross, not scary). I’m sure I started yelling rubbish at him at this point, but he further explained that resolutions aren’t his thing because it turns an idea into an assignment. Into a task. Into a have to, rather than a want to. An enjoy to. I feel like this is a fairly common reaction to resolutions, and I think part of that is what I was hinting at near the beginning of this post: Don’t get too crazy, kids! Just because the word ‘resolution’ sounds big and scary doesn’t mean it actually has to be big and scary (That’s what she said?). Set realistic goals for yourself. Really, all resolutions are is a way of listing what you want to do to become a better version of yourself. And it can be just a tiny little piece, like making your bed every day (though I find this unnecessary – why wreck a perfectly built nest?) or walking instead of taking a taxi (as if I have ever taken a taxi) or eating carrots and snap peas instead of chips three days a week (this one is actually making my list). It’s just not realistic to quit eating chips all-together! (and not enjoyable) BUT ya know what IS enjoyable? Not eating an entire bag of chips in one sitting (or so they say…). 🙂

Yes, I realize that my first ‘resolution’ of 2013, as of one sentence ago, is not eating an entire bag of chips in one sitting. My life is a sham. Call the snack police. This girl is cray!

If you’ve made it this far, you deserve to hear some of my ACTUAL reflections and resolutions. So here goes it:

Notable Moments of 2012

  • Graduated from UW-Madison with a 3.7 and a degree in Studio Arts (I focused in woodworking and furniture design, but that is neither here nor there)

    Dazed&ConfusedGrad

    Dazed&ConfusedGrad

  • Got a new job to replace a job that wasn’t making me happy anymore
  • Quit smoking (twice 😉 )
  • Made new friends//stayed connected with old (and very dear) friends
  • Moved into a new house with two amazing roomies
  • Made lots of furniture that I am very proud of
  • Measured my love for my family every day
  • Wrote thank you notes
  • Created a blog with my festie

Ideas for 2013

  • Do more yoga
  • Eat healthier, Ma always says moderation is key
  • Move to a new city//state
  • Take more chances
  • Be present to life RIGHT NOW; be happy in the moment
  • Create
  • Love

As you can see, my ideas and goals for 2013 are broad – it will hopefully be a year of getting into a healthier life rhythm. A year of enjoying life and jumping in head first. I am realizing that since I’m all graduated I am free to do anything that I please – it is an exhilarating feeling. It can be overwhelming. It’s like wading into Lake Michigan in the summer – You are halfway to the second sandbar and the water is freezing, just up to your belly button. It’s so cold you are shaking. But at some point, you just have to hold your breath and dunk yourself, because once you come back up, it feels so much warmer, ya know?

So I am going to spend this New Year’s Eve with family and friends and my festie. Eating food, drinking spirits, laughing, baking cookies, and playing games because that’s how we roll.

Anyone else have any festolutions, resolution, goals, or ideas? Any bad habits you are going to kick or good habits you are going to instill? Any killer or decidedly mediocre NYE plans?

HNY//lovefromthefesties

HNY//lovefromthefesties

 

Snacks on Snacks Because We Like Snacks

First, watch this video: !!!W A R N I N G!!!…it’s slightly very offensive (skip to 1:00 to glaze over the intro). Or better yet, jump to 4:37 to get right to the good part. Or just take our word for it and believe that all the video says is “snacks on snacks!” But really, if you want to watch it, go ahead. It’s offensive. You are warned. Proceed as you see fit: SNACKS-ON-SNACKS-ON-SNACKS

Ok, so now that your opinion of us may or may not be ruined, let me explain what this post is really about.

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graz*er noun. A term that describes one who eats (or prefers to eat) snacks throughout the day in place of larger meals. These snacks may include, but are not limited to, chips, spicy Cheetos, flaming hot Chester’s fries, salt & vinegar or jalapeno kettle chips, pickle-flavored chips, guacamole, chocolate things, nachos, Pringles, gold-fish, SPACE ADVENTURE GOLDFISH, nutella-banana-pretzles, salsa, string cheese, sharp cheddar cheese, gorgonzola crackers, carrots, sugar snap peas, humus, veggie sticks, greek yogurt dips (or just greek yogurt in general), apples, raspberries, citrus, walnuts, trail mix, and gummy vitamins.

snack out or snackout noun. Used to describe the grazing event. May be an event with single or multiple participants. e.g. “Wanna snack out with me?” Related words: snacking out (verb), snack out black out (noun).

snack out black out (snackout blackout) noun. An activity usually characteristic of a particularly passionate grazer. A “snack out black out” occurs when one has literally snacked out so much that one no longer remembers the snacking. e.g. commenting, “wow, dinner is in 15 minutes and I’m not hungry. Weird!” Later, the commenter will be reminded that they are not hungry because they consumed a full bag of chips/carrots/nachos/etc. before the normal meal.

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As you may have gathered, this post is about the festie habit of snacking. Because let’s face it, anyone who actually knows us (i.e. Marley and me), knows that we prefer snacking to any other form of consumption (besides the shopping kind, which is another issue that will be tackled at a future date). Our snacking habits (accompanied by our mutual love of inappropriate jokes) may have been the first indication of our festie relationship. One of my earliest memories of us is of hiding behind woodworking benches munching on bags of snack mixes we had picked up at the grocery store close to the UW Humanities building. We had a pretty cozy corner back there. While others may find it strange that we prefer our carpet or concrete picnics to their fancy-schmancy sit down dinners, we know that snacking is the best and most interesting way to eat.

A festie in her natural habitat

A festie in her natural habitat

Snacking is like having a 4, 5, or 15 course meal for the price of one! What could be better? Instead of trying to decide on ONE thing that you would like to enjoy, a snacker is able to pick a plethora of items they would like to savor without worrying that they will become full/poor/bored before they have the chance to taste everything! Trust us, the benefits of a balanced meal pale when compared to the benefits of getting to eat anything/everything your heart desires.

Fries: a food group that is a wonderful (and cheap!) option for snackers everywhere.

Fries: a food group that is a wonderful (and cheap!) option for snackers everywhere.

There is only one very small downside to the snack lyfe. If you live like this long enough, your friends start to assume that you never eat meals and stop pressuring your to join them for “real food.” Without these spurts of normality, the snack lyfe can be a dangerous, nutrient-lacking abyss. Not to worry though, the festies have found a solution! They are called VITAMINS and they are best only acceptable in gummy form.

Now, before you judge us on our eating habits, let me remind you that we are GROWN UPS and allowed to eat ANY WAY THAT WE WANT. Also, we are both exercisers (sort of). Marley is Miss walks-a-lot and lately Becca has been spending a lot of time on her head. That is all.

“I’m going out of town for a couple of days, would you watch GG for me?”

He's a cutie, right?!

He’s a cutie, right?!

Ladies and Gents, meet CodyEarl! I’m not sure if we’ve mentioned CE on the blog yet, but I’ll give you a proper introduction right meow. CE is my bro, in the sense that he is a dude that I frequently refer to as ‘bro’, but in a more true sense, he is my brother, legit, we have the same parents (as if you didn’t already know what ‘brother’ meant). He’s totally adorable, right? I know. And guess what, he is also super smart, but not in an annoying-I-can’t-relate-to-people-so-I-sound-pretentious way but in a I-watch-a-lot-of-documentaries-so-I-know-a-lot-of-random-cool-funny-facts sort of way, and he is a very funny guy. He can have me crying from excessive laughter in about five seconds. Seriously. CE is also a fairly sassy guy. I mean, he tried to start a fad of wearing pants inside out (though, I realized that he may or may not be referencing one of the Back To The Future movies, I think the second one?), pretty sassy, right?  So ladies, better start lining up. 🙂

Note: They are still 'cuffed for an updated look'

Note: They are still ‘cuffed for an updated look’

ANYWAYS… Why am I introducing you to my brother, you might ask. Besides the fact that he is super awesome and is basically the only reason I am not in a permanent state of mental breakdown, the real reason we are here today is to meet Green Guy (usually referred to as simply GG), a creation of CE’s hands and mind.

GG on a green rug at the festie house

GG on a green rug at the festie house

GG is a small green guy (this is, obviously, how he acquired his name). He’s a bit of a brat, a total sass, and deeply philosophical at times.

Yesterday, CE informed me that he was going out of town for a few days and asked if I wanted to watch GG while he was gone (hence the title of this post). Of course I said yes! Who doesn’t want to kick it with a little green guy!??!?!?! So, CE dropped off GG with me last night, and the fun began. The festies and GG had snacks for dinner, watched plenty of bad TV, and decorated the livingroom for Christmas. It was a good time.

GG is CrEePiN'

GG is CrEePiN’

Now, a few days ago I asked CE if he thought GG would be willing to do an interview for a guest post on the new Festielyfe blog. CE relayed the question to GG (GG’s not very good with phones, always yells at me or just hangs up mid conversation), and GG agreed to have CE interview him for the blog. So, without further ado, an interview by CE, with guest: GG…

OKAY HI, MY NAME IS GREEN GUY, BUT I GO BY GG. HI.

Maybe it’s better if I explain a little bit before you jump right in, GG.

YEAH OKAY — GOOD IDEA! LOL

Yeah, thanks GG. Okay, so Green Guy is a small stuffed humanoid creature… He looks a lot like an archetypical little green alien, but it’s unclear exactly what he is. If you ask him, he’ll probably just say, “I’M GREEN GUY.” He is very young and naive, so his humor is oftentimes a little off — jokes that we might find completely dull and pointless leave GG laughing for hours; he thinks they are the funniest thing. Despite this naivety, he often poses deep, philosophical questions like, “WHAT IS LIFE???” or “WHOM AM I??”. 

BUT UMMM.. WHAT’S A DEEP FILLOSOFICAL QUESTIUN??

Yes, GG. Thank you for illustrating that point for me. 

LOL, YEAH, NO PROBLEM… WAIT, WHAT POINT???

See what I mean? Okay GG, would you like to tell us a little bit about yourself?

YEAH, OKAY. SO I’M GREEN GUY AND I AM REALLY NICE AND I GO TO SKOOL. THERE IS THIS GIRL THERE CALLED ‘GREEN GIRL’ AND SHE IS KINDA NICE, BUT THEN THERE IS THIS OTHER GIRL CALLED ‘ORANGE GIRL’ WHO IS REALLY NICE AS WELL.

So you want to date one of these girls?

YEAH, I’D LIKE TO DATE ONE OF THESE GIRLS….. WAIT, WHAT’S ‘DAYTING’??

Nevermind GG. Don’t worry about it. 

YEAH, I’M REALLY NOT WORRIED ABOUT IT, DAD, LOL.

Tell me more about school. Do you enjoy it?

YEAH, IF YOU WERE TO ASK ME THAT QUESTIUN, I WOULD HAVE TO SAY, YEAH, I WOULD SAY THAT I ENJOY IT. ONE OF MY HOMEWERK ASSIGNMENTS IS STARING AT THE CEILING, AND I’M REALLY GOOD AT THAT, SO, YEAH, I WOULD SAY THAT I ENJOY IT.

Okay, I think we’re about done here G—OKAY BYE.

So, that is GG. Anyone else have very vocal miniature stuffed green objects in their lives? Or are we the only ones? Want to hear more from GG? Let us know! Still have questions about exactly who GG is? Email us or comment and we can try to define him a little more. We have pleeeeenty of stories, trust me…

The Art of Being A Sass

Obnoxiously large monster slippers + bubbles = sassy

Obnoxiously large monster slippers + bubbles = sassy

Okay, so, another key part of being a festie is being a SASS.

/sas/noun A person who exhibits a combination of the following characteristics at least 92.3% of the time:

  • speaking almost exclusively with sarcasm
  • smiling sweetly while saying something cheeky
  • excessive use of witty retorts
  • inappropriate jokes (at the expense of others, usually)
  • talking back using a cheerful tone of voice (this can be accompanied with a sweet, innocent smile and/or batting of eyelashes)
  • denying any act of cunning or trickery with claims of innocence

Becca and I both fit the bill in the sass department. The peak of our sassiness no doubt came out in the woodshop at UW-Madison, our home for the majority of our undergrad career. I mean who am I kidding. My shop nickname was Marley Sass… Some of the newer graduate students even thought that my last name was actually Sass. And just incase the point hasn’t already been driven home, my instructor addressed my grade sheets to “Marley Sass” or simply just “Sass”. Also, we wore matching Spiderman aprons. So, yeah. You get the picture.

So, to illustrate the point a little more clearly, I will try to define the different levels of sass.

Level One:  Small Sass Level one Sass is basically harmless. It is comedic. It fills the air with laughter and happiness. Chuckles and smiles. Standard Sass is mostly witty one liners and quips. On any ol’ day in the woodshop… “Can you pass me the glue?” “No, get your own.” or “Pass yourself the glue.” Followed by smile/giggle and then the glue is actually passed. OR, while discussing possible names for the second level of sass… Becca: “You should just call the second level Standard Sass and the first level Small Sass.” Marley: Snorts “Small Sass?” Becca: Looks in the general direction of my bum and smirks “You have a small sass.” OR, Marie (our other roomie) was showing off her family Christmas card, and Becca said, “Marie, you are definitely the prettiest.” Marie: “Prettier than my brothers? Gee, thanks!” A few minutes later, we were talking about make-up. Marie was explaining how she had looked through my make-up bag to check out different products because she was heading online to stock up. Becca: “Why didn’t you look through my make-up?” Marie: “You weren’t here!” Becca had indeed been out of town all weekend, make-up bag in tow. Becca: “I’m not pretty?!!” Marie: “You’re so pretty! You’re prettier than my brothers!” Boom! SASS ATTACK IN DA HIZZOUSE!

Smal Sass

Small Sass – “Get that camera out of my face.”

Level Two: Standard Sass Level two sass is generally a feud between the festies. Yes, sometimes we fight, and sometimes things get ugly.  Many of these festie feuds occur in high stress situations – like at the end of the semester when we are running around like festie freaks trying to get our projects finished. Sidenote: it’s basically a proven fact that sass relieves stress. I have hardly any wrinkles on my face. In a secondary sass situation, Becca and I will be chatting, you know, lots of witty banter – small sass, if you will. And then, the small sass becomes inflamed, and transforms into standard sass. I’ll just continue with the woodshop small sass example to illustrate this transformation.  “Can you pass me the glue?”  “Pass yourself the glue.” No glue is passed. Glares are exchanged. Glue bottle is shoved towards the other person, it topples over and rolls off of the table, dribbling glue on the floor. “Watch it!” / “What are you trying to do, RUIN MY LIFE?!” “YEAH! That’s exactly it, because everything is always all about you all the time.” “We are SO not festies anymore!” “Yeah, well TOO BAD I ALREADY DECIDED WE AREN’T!” Period of mutual pouting ensues. Usually anywhere from 3-50 minutes later we are back in full-fledge festie mode.

Level Three: Super Sass Level three is arguably the most common level of sass (for us). Maybe it’s tied with small sass. It’s hard to say. Super Sass is a result of the ultimate hive-mind between the festies. This is the level in which we are lewd, crude, and crass. This generally results in everyone else feeling very uncomfortable. That’s what she said jokes occur in a very high volume, especially at inappropriate times, such as during demos. Heath, our instructor, was teaching us how to cut dados. Heath, explaining how the pieces should fit together: “It should fit snuggly. You don’t want it to be too tight. It should slide easily. Here, I’ll just pass them (the pieces of wood) around; slide it in and out to see how it feels.” Becca and I made eye contact and said simultaneously “THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID!” Real mature, we know. At this point I was blushing x574823 and doubled over in a fit of silent laughter, tears running down my cheeks. I’m not really sure what Becca was doing – she holds her composure a little better than I do, so she was probably playing it cool, enforcing our lewdness. Our peers were giggling and looking nervously at each other… Talk about Awkward… Heath simply shook his head in disappointment, but I swear I spied him smiling for a second…!

Sassy people only shave half of their face

Sassy people only shave half of their face

So there you have it folks, The Three Levels of Sass. After reading the definition, have you realized you are a sass? Do you guys like That’s What She Said jokes as much as we do? Which level of sass do you utilize the most? I find it hard to believe we are only sasses in this lewd large world…

Matching: the Study of Pairs

Things we match:

Striped sweaters, Festie flannels, Urban sweaters, open sweaters from Taiwan, flower tanks, Sperrys, rings, cowls, elephant socks, fuzzy ribbon socks, fair isle socks, (we own a lot of socks), urban v-neck, those-jeans-that-we-both-hate, foxy sweaters, santa socks, yoga (goga!) tights, Spiderman aprons, squares, grey-scale scarves, a love of Domo, camelbaks, shiny bracelets, cowl scarves, cheetah headbands, delicate sweaters with shiny shoulder caps, mustard sweaters…etc., etc., etc.

I can’t remember the first item we shared. It might have been the flow-y sweaters from Urban Outfitters–same style, different colors. Or it might have been the bold striped sweaters from the Gap that fit in an odd sort of way but were too cute (and too cheap!) to pass up. It could have been the Spiderman aprons that we bought for working in the woodshop. Gosh, it could have even been the festie flannels featured last week. Regardless of what items came first, the fact remains that as our friendship has grown, so has the number of items that we share.

Obviously we’re not shy about having the same things. We cherish it, we embrace it, we claim it as part of being a festie. When I’m hunting for an outfit in the morning, the festie items make me smile–if I happen to settle on an outfit that features a festie item, I cross my fingers and hope the hive is going to be strong that day. When we shop together, we buy the same things or variations of the same thing in different colors…and when we shop apart, well, it’s now at the point where we will just pick up two of whatever we’ve fallen in love with because chances are high that the other will fall in love too.

Honestly, we’re just being economical–saving the other a trip out to the shop or the cost of shipping (more on how to wiggle your way out of that one later).

However, there is a catch–festies also happen to be a bit…selfish at times. Not in a, “no, you can’t have any of my ice cream,” or, “no, you can’t borrow my favorite scarf” or even, “no you can’t buy that I have it” way, but in a, “I really love you and I want us to share, but if only one of us can have it then it’s going to be me” way…

Perhaps a story will help illustrate my point.

The Case of the Missing Keys

Last spring I went to Taiwan with family to visit family. My lovely mother had planned an epic journey for us–it would be the first time one of my brothers visited and she wanted to make sure we all saw new parts of Taiwan. Not only did we do the usual adventures–shopping at the night market, eating from street vendors, etc.–we also went to Tarako National Park (click it, it’s amazing, and you should probably start planning a trip now). Think: mountains that capture the crispness of the elevation and the dense wetness of a jungle at the same time; think: hiking paths carved into the cliff side with temples and monasteries hidden among the peaks, waterfalls that create tunnels over the road, waterfalls that come out from under said temples, dense fog that blankets your cabin so that when you awake you feel as though the mountain is floating within a cloud.

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… Anyways, the point is that even though Taiwan wasn’t a new experience for me, Tarako was. And it was beyond amazing. Scratch that, the REAL point is that I wanted to buy something to remind me of Tarako. At the end of one of our first hikes (a small one that ended before we thought it would), some townspeople were selling crafts with the traditional Taiwanese patterns on them. I found woven key chains with the traditional TW colors and bought two–I figured that Marley’s could remind her of why she should come back to TW with me. : ) Shortly after returning home, the keys were lost (literally couldn’t find them the next day). I went through every room and every pocket of my bags in vain–the keys (and keychain) never turned up.

Here’s where the selfish festie comes up–I had lost my festie key chain but still wanted needed one. Luckily, I had bought two…that’s right, Marley’s festie key chain was put on new keys, and I never mentioned the missing key chain to her until…fast forward almost a year and what do I find? The missing keys and the missing festie key chain. Mars was puzzled for all of three seconds when she saw the matching key chains on both sets of my keys.

M: Were those festie key chains?
B: [[no comment, innocent wide-eyed look]]
Uncontrolled laughter by both parties

What can I say? We may love to share, but even we have limits–if it really comes down to it, we festies will always pick ourselves when distributing festie items. ; ) Flawed creatures, perfect festies.

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