Katie is a 25-year-old blogger who lives in Philadelphia, PA. In her free time you can usually find her sobbing over mid-'90s teenage dramas or writing for Winebibber.wordpress.com. Add her on Twitter @KTGL.
Okay, so the episode opens on Ken driving a car of wasted dudes around and they’re like, “LOL, we’re having the best time!” And then they cover Ken’s eyes with their hands and the car crashes. Way to go, everyone.
At SCDP/whatever else it is now, we find out that Chevy has asked for like, a zillion pitches and keeps asking them to redo them. Ken comes in and has a cute lil cane because of the car crash. He’s like, “Chevy is ridic. They don’t like me, and then they crashed my car.” Don is like, “I’m going to be outraged about this!” and talks about how Chevy can’t keep making them work like this, and how Ken’s job is making people like things so he better get on it. The one dude at the office is like, “I’m gonna bring in my doctor and get everybody fixed up.” They decide to work through the weekend for Chevy.
COOL. OPENS ON ARNOLD AND SYLVIA FIGHTING. WHO CARES. Don hears them from the elevator and then creeps away like a weirdo.
Now SCDP and Peggy’s company or whatever are merged. It happened so quickly? How are they all in the same building already? How is there enough room for everyone? Okay, I guess there isn’t enough room for everyone because the secretaries are crying about how everyone in creative won’t be able to fit into the same room. Joan tells everyone to cool their jets.
I’m so glad that Peggy and Joan can talk together again! I HOPE THEY BECOME BESTIES AND BRUSH EACH OTHER’S HAIR AND TALK ABOUT BOYS TOGETHER. There needs to be a more magical relationship between the two of them.
The old guy in charge of SCDP is reading something about how the merger was great. Everyone is like, “Wooooooo.”
Pete’s late to the meeting and it’s full, so he starts crying about how he doesn’t have a chair in the meeting room because he sucks. Get the fuck ovvvvver it, Pete. Damn.
Whenever they have a meeting on this show I have no idea what’s going on.
Okay, so this episode was the first one this season that seemed to have some forward movement. Like, there was actually a plot in this episode instead of people just existing. First of all, we found out that SCDP has the option of going public, and that each of the partners could stand to make at least $1,000,000. Don was not included in the going public discussion because he’s a boring old stick-in-the-mud. Pete and Joan were like, totes celebrating, and Joan was surprisingly excited about the money, but maybe not that surprising because she had to do some crappy stuff to get where she is, and it’s finally paying off.
When the show opens, we find out Ginsberg is going out on a date with a cute teacher that his dad set him up with. Even though Ginsberg is pissed that his dad did this without telling him, he agrees to go on the date. Don and Megan are going to an advertising award ceremony, while the doctor neighbor and his wife Sylvia head to DC so the doctor can give a keynote speech.
Mad Men time again! Liveblog time again.
The show opens on Don and Pete having a secret ketchup meeting!!! They’re in Pete’s bro apartment, and the ketchup guy is also the worst because when he leaves, he takes off his wedding ring and says he’s gonna go party in the city. Also, Pete’s hairline is terrible. I think it’s actually getting worse as this season goes on, which is really darkly tragic for Pete. But also, he’s a total douchebag, so I’m totally pleased about it.
Don’s secretary Dawn and her pal go out to a diner and talk about how she’ll never meet anyone at work. She basically ends up saying every guy there is crazy, and it’s interesting to see her take on the office finally. Plus, it was nice to see her talking to someone not from the office.
Finally we get to see some Joooan. Her mom is being stupid and annoying as usual. Joan’s Mary-Kay friend, Kate, is at her house giving her mom a makeover, and her mom seems pretty pleased to talk about Joan being a partner at the firm. Joan doesn’t seem sad about her status as partner being brought up, but I feel like this is going to pop up again later.
MAD MEN, Y’ALL! I’ll be here every week. Except last week. Last week I missed the premiere, so we’ll pretend this is my premiere. I’m calling this a recap, but it’s more of a live-blog. Let’s jump in, shall we?
Cool, first minute and I’m pretty sure Pete is already being a skeezeball. Way to go, Pete. You turd. He’s talking about hot dogs and simulated sex acts and I was too busy typing the above sentence to know why, but I’m sure it doesn’t matter. (Oh, I guess he was talking about giving some honey-buns [his lady-neighbors] tickets to see Hair.) Pete and his wife Annie from Community are now saying bye to their guests. The dude-neighbors were being totally pervy to Annie-Trudy, but she didn’t seem phased? Now the neighbors are gone and Pete’s kickin’ back on the couch while Annie-Trudy cleans up. TYPICAL MAN.
Okay, now Don is in the elevator with his neighbor, The Doctor. The Doctor was saying bye to his wife (Sylvia) (the one Don is boning!!!) and then this dick Dr. dude is like, “YOU’RE LUCKY YOUR WIFE WORKS, DON, BECAUSE MINE IS JUST TAKIN’ ALL MY MONEY” because WOMEN! The men have a long laugh. Then the doctor gets off the elevator but I have no idea where he goes because it seems like they only went down 2 floors.
I fucking love to reminisce. If someone lets me, I’ll talk about stuff that happened 10 years ago for hours, especially if I’ve got a beer or 6 in me. Which is why watching Definitely, Maybe the other night was like watching porn for me. While it’s a pretty lame dramedy (rom-com?), it has Ryan Reynolds’ character interacting with 3 different women over a number of years, but he’s telling the stories to his daughter years after the fact, so it’s just like, 4 layers of nostalgia all wrapped up in one movie. It’s great. And it got me thinking about all the people I would talk about if my kiddo was like, “Tell me about The Main Men who were in your life because I would like a neat and easy to follow story!”
If that were to happen, and if I had to narrow it down to 3, I have no idea who I would tell my kid about. It’s impossible to try and figure out who in my life, ex-wise, has meant the most to me over the years. Does it default to the ones I still find myself thinking about to this day, or is it just human nature to wonder about past relationships? Would I talk about my first boyfriend?
With certain guys I dated, I wonder what would have happened if I could have just squashed my feelings of unhappiness a little longer or worked out the fight that sent me over the edge. Like, I doubt we’d be married now (any of us), but could we still be together? In reality, we might have had a little bit more time to make out, drive around, fall asleep on our parents’ couches together, but that’s it. Stuff that I wouldn’t remember now anyway. If you asked me what I remember about the time I spent with my last boyfriend, I could boil it down to maybe two things. One of the only things I specifically and consistently remember when I think about him and I together is something he said right after we first started dating. He told me that we liked each other so much, we should have our own TV show. It was cute. I’m pretty sure we were sitting in this big scoop chair in my teenage bedroom when he said it, under my stupid pastel drawings of The Beatles, and it’s just one of those things I knew I’d always remember. Like if I had a diary, I would have written that in with a big heart scribbled around it. Because it was cute. The other thing I remember is when we finally broke up. I don’t remember details about that, just how sad I felt about it all.
Now that I’m 25, soon to be 26 (closer to 30 than 20, y’all, hold me), I’ve been finding that I’m less up-to-date on the cool going-ons of the world. You know, all the hip apps and websites and all that. If I’m going to be completely honest here, I still don’t even really “get” Tumblr. So, obviously, when I heard about Snapchat I was like, “I literally can not fathom what this app exists for,” and then I immediately downloaded it.
About 10 minutes after it popped up on my phone, I still had no idea what I was doing. I decided to text my 19-year-old former coworker to ask him about it, because no one is more hip and now than teenagers.
“HELP ME,” I texted in the capslock style of grandmas everywhere. “I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHAT SNAPCHAT IS.”
My coworker texted me back and said, “I will walk you through it,” and then gave me his username. The first thing I sent him was a picture of a black background that I had scrawled “HELP ME, SOS” on in red as a joke. He sent me back a picture of his face with a single line of text under it: “Turn on a light.”
So, there we go. I’m officially old enough for young’uns to think I actually don’t know how to take a photo on my phone. And while I totally resent that fact, I also can’t be that mad about it since Snapchat is really perplexing to me. I eventually figured out the joy of sending my friends and loved ones pictures of my face with dicks and hearts drawn across them, but it sure did take me a lot to get there. Because I’m 99% sure Snapchat was originally made with sexting in mind. Right? Do they have an official press release out on that? Because it has to have been. The pictures disappear after a maximum of 10 seconds and (!) the app lets you know if someone has taken a screenshot of one of your photos (brilliant, BTW). Like, that shit’s gotta be for nudes. Why else would I care to know if someone’s screencapped my probably-blurry cell phone picture? Not too worried that someone is going to try to sell my pixelated face covered in dicks to the NYT.
If anyone knows me, they know I’m super into anything pop culture related, especially anything geared towards teenagers. Teenagers and their culture fascinate me to no end. When a band like One Direction comes along, I just strap on in and go along for the ride, usually while scream-singing, and with tears of joy streaming down my face. I don’t have a problem with people who don’t like pop culture because to each his own, but I do have a problem with people who give me shit for liking pop culture (and like, I do mean the poppiest of pop culture).
Earlier this morning, I was looking at The Onion’s FB apology for their Quvenzhané Wallis tweet, and some commenter was pissed at another commenter for not knowing The Onion’s schtick, so she told her to go back to watching the Kardashians and E!, like it was The Biggest Insult she could give her. Hello, have you ever watched E!? It is Entertainment at its finest, people. If you’re a person watching PBS (or whatever channel is deemed “smart”) and getting all angsty on The Onion’s FB, then maybe E! is the smarter way to go. My point here is that there’s no reason to bring someone down based on what television they’re watching. If Fox News is what floats your boat, then you watch Ann Coulter ’til your little heart explodes from Republican joy. (There’s a chance I’ll dislike you for different reasons, though. LIBERAL IN THE HOUSE, Y’ALL!) Lately there have been too many dudes trying to get up in my business who get all judgy and eye-roll-y when I start to talk about pop culture. I can guarantee that if you’re trying to get into my pants, then that’s the absolute worst thing you could ever possibly do. Like, I let you talk about baseball, son, and I try really hard to not let my eyes glaze over, so the least you can do is let me talk about Zayn Malik‘s hair for five minutes.
Once upon a time I was 19 and everything in life was terrible. I was seriously like, 3 sheets to the wind all the time (that’s a euphemism for “drunk”, right?), and going to class was just not something I did. Since I was in the depths of my first college teenage crisis, I obviously made some terribly poor Man Decisions. And when I say “Man Decisions” I mean “Teenage Boy Decisions” because LOL, yeah right if you can call a 19-year-old dude a man. They more closely resemble drunk babies, they’re so useless. I was pretty useless too, though, if we’re gonna be real. When I was that age, everything seemed so dramatic, especially affairs of the heart. I would rather drunkenly drape myself over the side of a couch at 6AM than deal with real emotions. When I first got to college, I found myself Really Into this 27-year-old guy, and our courtship was the stuff nightmares were made of (and probably why I haven’t attempted to date an older man since), so by the time I was 19 I was already jaded and looking for something easy.
In my life, I’ve had a lot of boyfriends. Not real boyfriends, though. Real boyfriends have flaws. They can let you down. When I say boyfriends, I mean “totally fictional dudes on TV shows or boy band members that I stanned for over a prolonged period of time and so now whenever I see pictures of them online, I feel like they’re my ex-boyfriends.” Men I’ve shared hefty emotions with, but never actually met, and have since parted ways with, amicably and mutually (or one-sidedly and creepily). While the men may not be real, my emotions for them were. Take a walk with me down the totally normal memory lane of my imaginary boyfriends.
Romantic movies have ruined my life.
Like, my life is never going to resemble anything that ever happens in a “chick flick” (ugh at that name), or even a rom-com for that matter. Does anything romantic ever happen to anyone in real life? My ex of five years ago once showed me his dick on Skype and I gave it a thumbs up. Does that count as romance? If anyone actually attempted to do anything remotely “romantic” to me I would probably recoil in fear. Maybe that’s just me, though. MAYBE I AM EMOTIONALLY STUNTED.
In any case, in honor of Valentine’s Day and the ever elusive Grand Romantic Gesture, I’ve decided to get loaded and tear apart the classic movie The Notebook. We all know it. We all love it. If you don’t love it, you’re lying, you liar. I’ve been drinking a very special “liquor” called “Kinky Liquor” and it is pink and probably perfect for hating on love and Valentine’s Day and life in general. Also, puking.
As we all know, The Notebook is an epic tale of love and loss but sometimes, like right now when I am drunk on very sugary pink liquor, it is also the most annoying love story of all time because a lot of things Noah did were actually horrifying things and not adorable things and the 2004 version of me sure did get the wool pulled over her eyes (and maybe also the 2013 version of me because so what if I cried at this movie last week).
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