Reduced Fat Gab

Hello Gabbers! Didja miss me?

I know, I've been super awful at Gabbing. My bad. Forgive and forget? Pretty please?! The thing is--the thing they defo don't tell you when you decide to become an English major--that in order to be a writer, a really good writer, you have to be inspired. Because without that simple ingredient...you're sort of screwed. If you're not excited about what you're doing, what you're Gabbing or anything, then it's just not going to turn out well. Luckily for you (and for me) I felt some serious inspiration this morning. And, to it, I have decided to give my blog a little facelift. You likie my new look? Yes? No? Okay, enough Gabbing about the silly stuff...let's get to the Fat.

Last Friday, I had the utter displeasure of having all four of my wisdom teeth removed. It. Was. #Fuckawful. I know everyone says, "Oh, yeah, it doesn't really hurt that much after the first day." LIES! It hurts like a bastard. Thank Edward Cullen for vicodin. And banana smoothies--Beau B made me some fabulous banana smoothies and they were beyond delish. Not being able to really chew or eat got me thinking about food. A lot. It's surprising how much you think about food when you can't actually consume it. But isn't that true about everything? There's this trick that fancy shmancy social media researchers use and it goes a little something like this: "Don't think about a white bear." I don't know about you, but when someone tells me not to think about a white bear, all I think about is this:

My thoughts exactly...

So, there I was...sipping my banana smoothie ever so slowly, whilst watching countless reruns of "The Real Housewives of New York City." Wisdom teeth removal or not, I'd probably be doing this on any other day. But, given the circumstances, I found it rather interesting that on this day I was watching an eppy of RHONYC where my soulmate (soulmate=Bethenny Frankel) was doing a speaking engagement at the Learning Center about her book, "Naturally Thin." I've said it once, and I'll say it again, I have a little (and by little, I mean GIGUNTA) Gab crush on Bethenny Frankel. Girlfriend really has it going on...with her new man (Oh, I so hope they live "Hoppily" ever after) and her new baby ("Bringing Up Bryn"--for serious, Bravo should hire me. Like NOW!) and her new reality show ("Bethenny Getting Married?" partay tomorrow night at mi casa) and her new sweet ass downtown apartment. Also, Ms. Frankel tells it LIKE IT IS. And I dig it. So, like any nut case, I have decided to cook my way through her cook books, "Naturally Thin" and "The Skinnygirl Dish." Think of me as Julie Powell and Bethenny as Julia Child. How cute?! Since the wisdom teeth extraction, however, cooking the food has been put on hiatus.

For those of you who don't know (and I'm guessing that's most of you), Bethenny was raised in an extremely unhealthy environment; her parents were "animals," as she so lovingly states, and she also struggled with food and eating so much so that she wound up in an obesity clinic at the age of 9. Yes, that's right. SKINNYGIRL used to be FATTYGIRL. Since those days, a lot has changed. After studying food and becoming a chef (not a cook!), Bethenny now lives her life by following mantra: "Taste Everything, Eat Nothing." It makes total sense if you think about it. You can still eat anything you want, just in moderation. Have a small, portion control-sized of baked ziti and one piece of Godiva chocolate. I get what she's Gabbing. I think we all do. Let it be known that Bethenny is not Gabbing, "Don't Eat." As she thoughtfully Gabs to her followers, "You can have it all, just not all at once."

Could have definitely had one of these instead of the banana smoothie.

Bethenny is one smart cookie, but she's definitely not the first person dish out this kind of advice. Part of what I adore about Bethenny is that this Skinnygirl Gabs it like it is. You can't expect to eat an entire chicken fried steak and a loaf of garlic bread and an entire pan of Betty Crocker brownies and be a Skinnygirl. Yeah I know the familiar whine, "But it tastes sooooooo good." Jesus Christ...Duh! No shit all that food tastes "soooooo good." But, let me ask you something, does it taste as good as being skinny? I don't think so.

Now, I'm not a dietician or a nutritionist or a chef or even a cook. I'm just a 22-year-old girl who is trying to 'make it' and trying to have some kind of chance of having a long and happy and healthy life. As if it's not enough that I (oh...and EVERYONE ELSE) am having an insanely hard time finding a job, but now I'm also supposed to be thin and fit and all this is supposed to be natural? Yeah...no. It's hard. Television shows, movies, magazines, blogs, songs, stupid fucking award shows have us programmed to oogle and foam at the mouth at how physically fit a person/celebrity/debutante/celebutante is looking these days. Obviously Jennifer Anniston is not eating the Krispy Kremes and obviously Kristie Alley is...or was. I can't keep up with who's losing/gaining weight these days. But the message is clear: thin is always in.

Which leads me to this:

**SILENCE**

Oh. No. They. Didn't.

This is some TERRIBLE joke. Urban Outfitters has since removed this wildly fucked up material from its website. But, I still want to Gab about the awfulness that is this advertisement.

#1. This model is anorexic. Eat a sandwich. Eat 10 sandwiches. Oh, and smile.

#2. To whom is this article of clothing marketed? Skinnygirls or Fattygirls? I'm going to go out on a limb and Gab the former.

#3. Who the shit working in T-shirt Design at Urban Outfitters okay-ed this?

This shirt stirred up some serious controversy. Now, I can completely see how this shirt embodies the very essence of Bethenny's weight loss platform. I mean it says, "Eat Less," which is pretty spot on with Bethenny's whole "Taste Everything, Eat Nothing," dealio. But does it really convey that message? This shirt does not mean what it says. It does not Gab, "Eat Less." It Gabs, "Don't Eat." Let's be real. No girl (or human being) who is overweight is going to wear this piece of clothing and be taken seriously. It's like a baby wearing a diamond ring. Why would a baby be wearing a diamond ring if for no other reason than to make people laugh at the absurdity of the situation?

Only skinny, anorexic, non-smiley, models should be wearing this shirt. And those who are Day 1 Post Wisdom Teeth Extraction.

Let's focus on #3 on my list of complaints: "Who the shit working in T-shirt Design at Urban Outfitters okay-ed this?" Let me repeat that for a third time: WHO. THE. SHIT. WORKING. IN. T-SHIRT. DESIGN. AT. URBAN. OUTFITTERS. OKAY-ED. THIS?!?!?!?!? I'll tell you who: some skinny, emo, non-smiley, chain smoking, cocaine-addicted a-hole thought this was a really, you know, "trendy," concept. To the person or persons who designed this, allow me to Gab my true opinion about your creativity: you are a nitwit.

The difference between this t-shirt's message and Bethenny's is that Bethenny's is geared towards promoting a healthy lifestyle and garnering a healthier relationship between man (skinnygirl) and food. This t-shirt is not promoting anything except an eating disorder. It's not what you say (or Gab), but how you say (Gab) it. That is true wisdom right there.

Live it. Love it. Know it. Own it. EAT IT!

Love,

Gabbily Gifted

The Thin Line Between a Gab and a Blab

This issue has been on my mind very a verrah long time. Like for years and years. And, to it, I want to make something crystal clear: Gabbing and Blabbing are NOT THE SAME THING.

Gab=talking, venting.

Blab=GOSSIP. TOXIC. LOUD. NA-UNH!

That's what you get for being a Blabbermouth, Perezzy Poo.

There is a very easy way to make this distinction, Gab=Good (hence, the “G”) and Blab=Bad (hence, the “B”).

As I said before, I’ve been thinking about this trending of Gabbing v. Blabbing for a long time. Everybody Blabs, I know it. We’ve all been there and we’ve trash-talked and gossiped and known things that we shouldn’t know and then Blabbed those things that we shouldn’t know to other people. Question for you: did it make you feel better? Did it, really? Because of all the things that make me feel better (shopping, watching Bravo, blasting tunes from Gaga, Twi), I have to say that Blabbing doesn’t really take the cake.

If I may, an example: I know this girl…and for the sake of not hurting anyone’s feelings, let’s call her Blab Betch. Now, I was sorta/kinda friends with Blab Betch—you know, like walking from class-to-class friends. Nothing major. S’not like we were besties by any stretch of the imagination. Anyway, we’re walking one day, talking about…oh, I don’t know…the weather. It was a beautiful sunny day, and I was Gabbing about how much I love sunny days and seeing everyone outside on the Diag, and you know, just nonsense. Blab Betch and her Blabbiness proceeded to rain on my parade and started gossiping about this girl, CC, whom we both know.

“Omg, so last night, CC and I went down to Main Street, and she told me that she hates you,” said Blab Betch.

OH NO SHE DI-INT! #1. I get that Blab Betch was trying to be a “good friend” or whatever, and thought that #2. By her telling me this information that it would do me some good. Well, to be frank, knowing that information made me feel like…a piece of shit. What did I ever do to CC? Umm…nothing that I can recall, so when I learned that CC ‘hated’ me, I was surprised and upset. But, the point here is not whether or not CC ‘hates’ me…the point is that Blab Betch demonstrated that she has no mother effing common sense. Raise your hand if you enjoy knowing that somebody is not only talking about you behind your back, but also that said person has strong feelings of disgust for you. Ahh…no hands! Praise the Lawd. Keep that shit to yourself. Seriously. Not everybody needs to know everything about everything. What ever happened to a little grace? How about the art of being discreet?

When you Blab, you are doing yourself a complete disservice. In other words, you are making yourself look like an a-hole. Raise your hand if you want to be a-hole. Ahh…no hands! Lawd, have mercy.

Omigod. Do you die? How cute?

Since Graduation is in T-6 days, I felt it necessary to bring up this issue because I (just as many of you) will be entering the Real World very, very, VERY soon. For those of you who have jobs already lined up or who are going to Graduate School next year, I am Gabbing about your fierceness to everyone. Notice, I am not Blabbing; I am Gabbing. This is GOOD NEWS! See the difference here between my actions and Blab Betch’s actions is that my Gab is spreading something productive into the world. And, for those of you who do have jobs and who are going on to Grad school, it is TOTES FINE to Gab about it. In fact, I hereby order you to Gab about it! Because it’s a tremendous accomplishment, and while I’m insanely jealous that y’all are really going places really soon, I’m also insanely proud of each of you. And, for those of you who, like me, don’t have a hoot-nanny about what the future holds, that’s okay, too. But, don’t let your anxiety over this turn you into a Blab Betch. Jealousy is never in style, Gabbers. And neither is being a Blabbermouth. Ever.

Live it. Love it. Know it. Own it. But, don’t Blab it.
Love,

Gabbily Gifted

A Little Sad Gab

At exactly 1:54 P.M. today, April 21, 2010, I completed my college career at the University of Michigan. I thought I would feel this giant sense of relief and excitement and joy and all those other adjectives that make you want to jump up and down and hug everyone from your Long-Distance-Redheaded Boyfriend to the barista (baristo for men? yes? no?) at Starbucks. But, much to my surprise, I felt kind of sad.

Here's the thing about college, Gabbers---the thing they don't tell you about in the college rankings report in "U.S. World and News Report"---College is EFFING hard! Srsly. It's not all parties and booze and laughing and crazy experiences. In total, I have pulled 13 all-nighters (**remember when I said I tried the "Doctor Thing?" 8 of those all-nighters were devoted to making some sort of sense out of organic vs. inorganic compounds/scheming a way to blow up the Chem Building), written roughly 34 English papers, cried to 4 professors, created and presented 8 Powerpoint slide-shows, ordered Insomnia Cookies to the library twice and attended one entire full Michigan football game. And, through it all, I have Gabbed my stories, the good and the bad, to everyone and anyone who would listen. And, I have to Gab, that I am going to really miss this place and the experiences (again, the good and the bad) I have been privileged to be a part of.

Gah! Now that that's out of the way, look forward to MORE Gabs, MORE often! 'Cause now that college is officially over, the Gabbing party really begins.

Live it. Love it. Know it. Own it. REMEMBER IT!
Love,

Gabbily Gifted

Getting an 'A' in Gabbing

Hey Gabbers!

You guys are da bomb diggity (yes, all THREE of you! Good Gabs travel fast. Didn't your Jewish mothers ever tell you that?). Aight, so this next topic is something we all know and hate and love to do: We Gab about our work--our homework, that is. But, we don't just Gab for five minutes and then sit down to do our work. Psshh! We are far more crafty than that.

We Make Lists: Heck yes, we do. Credit is due to D for this one. And B. You two are both legendary list-makers. I love it. I'm Gabbing about it. Feel special. Are your "Work Lists" organized by time? Examples include, "3-4:30 PM, POLSCI Paper Outline" or "2-3 hours on POLSCI Paper Outline." But, let's be serious, because that isn't the only thing on your list. Do you include your classes on your list? Your exercise schedule? Do you? DO YOU!? I do, so it's all good.

My To Do List. No Lies.

So, I have a secret for all you list-makers out there, and, in true form, I must Gab about it: The list is not going to come after you and scream, "Yooohoo! You didn't finish me! IMMMMA KILL YOU!" No. That doesn't happen. Unless you're tripping on shrooms or shrooming on trips or something like that. Whatever. You get the point. The amount of time spent organizing The List--making our handwriting look 'pretty', perhaps color-coding classes/assignments, debating if we cross off or erase the task once completed--we could actually be accomplishing our tasks. Gah! A novel idea...

We Yenta About Our Work: First of all, if you don't know what I mean by "Yenta," we need to have a SERIOUS talk. By Yenta, of course, I mean that we Gab to anyone and everyone the following sentence, "Omg _______(Mommy, Roomie, Long-Distance-Redheaded Boyfriend), I have sooooooooo much work! It's crazy." I think I Gabbed that sentence 38 times today. The amount of time we (and by *we*, I mean *I*) spend Gabbing about papers and homework and studying is insane. We could all learn from E (See previous post, "Gabber Gold Medal: For E," to learn all about #gabworthy E). E's a Doer and a Gabber. Like Bethenny Frankel (I may or may not have a SERIOUS Gab-crush on Bethenny Frankel. You decide). She's awesome, FYI.

Let's be Besties. K? K!

Everybody does this. We gab, and yenta, and nag and just downright COMPLAIN about our work instead of actually doing it. This is probably the reason why I am jobless. Actually, I take that back. It's DEFINITELY the reason why I'm jobless. Because, let's face it, it's so much more fun and #gabworthy to Gab about not having a job and/or not being able to get a job in this economic shitstorm than actually having one secured for next year. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

It's 11 PM, and Chelsea's On and It's Not Like I'm Gonna....Yeah, yeah. BEEN THERE. Doing that. Right now. Yeah, we're a weird generation. We do things like this. We justify. And, if you are really going to sit there and deny that you DON'T do this, you're a liar. If you're going to have the audacity and Gab to ME that YOU NEVER DO THIS, you's a damn liar. That's right. I called you a liar. What? WHAT?!

But srsly? We do this shit all the time. We Gab about our work and then we're shocked when it's 1:39 AM on Monday night and the 10-page paper is due at 10:00 AM and we're still not finished. Again, by *we*, I totes mean *I*. The solution? Jury's still out on that one. Am I going to sit here and gab, "Don't Gab about your homework! Do your homework!" Yeah...no. 'Cause, if that was the case, I'd be working on my 10-Page Comm paper that's due in 2 weeks that I kinda/sorta/not really have a topic for instead of blogging about Gabbing about work. Say that five times fast.

The point? The point is that if you think you're the only Gabber out there who procrastinates and then Gabs about procrastinating, then you are WRONG! You are in good company and you are, *gasps*, "NORMAL!" Ahh! Alert the presses!

The good news? Every little thing is going to be all right. You'll get your work done...eventually. And then we can Gab about how you managed to get an 'A' on that paper or in that class. 'Cause you will, 'cause that's how you roll.

Live it. Love it. Own it. Know it. WORK IT!

Love,

Gabbily Gifted

Gabber Gold Medal: For E

Dear E,

You should know that your ability to keep up with my Gabbiness deserves presents. I'm not talking about a "Thank You" card or a Facebook wallpost. I'm talking about something somewhere in the neighborhood of diamonds and a pre-paid vacay at The Shore Club in Miami. Serious prezzies, Mmmkay? Glad we got that straightened out.

E's got the Gift of Gab that people dream of having. Because not only does E Gab, but E also Does. Up until recently, E used to Gab all the time about her passion for Psychology and her dream of moving to California and being a grad student and actually doing something meaningful. And do you know what all that gabbing did for E? It gave her serious determination. Ghandi-like determination. That Ghandi-like determination became Anderson Cooper-like action and, low and behold, E is GOING and DOING. True story. On September 1, 2010, E will be leaving NYC and moving to California where she will attending a #gabworthy Graduate program in Psychology. For serious #gabworthy stuff.

E's a hard worker, a dreamer, a believer and a doer. I'm not going to lie, I'm a little jealous of E. E's actually, physically going places, whilst I sit here yenta-ing about my unemployablenss. It's a word. Trust me. E's going out into the unknown, the trenches (well, not really, 'cause she's moving to Malibu and that's sort of reminiscent of Paradise) and spreading her glamorous Gift of Gab to new, interesting and deserving people. And I'm going to miss her "like woah."

No, but seriously, let me level with you: E's got her shit together. She is proof that if we really work for it, and if we really want it, we can actually have it and not just Gab about wanting to have it. E's my hero and I effing love her and I'll Gab about her and her #gabworthy accomplishments if I want to.

Live it. Love it. Know it. Own it. DO IT!

Love,

Gabbily Gifted

Gabber's Guide to #Twitter

It's no secret that I am in crazy love with Twitter. I love TwitPic-ing, I love ReTweeting, I love celeb Tweets, I love roommate Tweets and I love, love, LOVE Gabbing about any and all things Twitter. More than Facebook (yes, I just said that and no, I will not take it back).

For the two of you reading this, I know you don't have Twitter and I'm cool with that. I get that you don't understand that fabulousity that is Twitter and I get that it's kind of trendy right now and you "don't have a reason to have it." Yeah, yeah. Been there, done that. But, let me let you in on a little secret: Twitter is the actual Gift of Gab. Thought it was just me who was made with this talent? Psshh! Twitter spreads the Gift of Gab like none other.

Awww! Look how cute!

Imagine, if you will, a virtual text, BBM, what have you. Now, imagine you want to send that text to everyone. I'm not talking about sending an e-mail sent to your entire address book or just forwarding a text to everyone in your iPhone. I'm talking about sending this text message to everyone at one time. No clicks. No scrolling through names. That's Twitter, Gabbers!

Just a few days ago, it was a beautiful 75-degree day in Ann Arbor and I felt like spreading my Gift and sending it into the universe. So, I tweeted, "Good morning, starshine, it's spring time in Ann Arbor." And whaddaya know? People RE-Tweeted that shizz! They appreciated my Tweet and decided to promote my good feelings into the Twitter-verse. And that felt really, REALLY, #gabworthy. It's my trend. It's gonna be a thing. Trust me.

Twitter also provides me with a link to important stuff. You know, like CNN news breaks (@cnnbrk) and job opportunities (@PRJobsPHIL --nope, still no job). Oh, and style trends (@nytimesstyle) and Twilight news (@Twilight) and recipes (@Bethenny). So, it's super easy and convenient and accessible and gab-worthy. In short, me likie my Twitter. So, I thought I'd Gab about it. Ain't nothin' wrong with that. No harm, no foul.

Live it. Love it. Own it. Know it. TWEET IT!

Love,

Gabbily Gifted

Greetings Gabbers!

Okay, so here we go:

In three and a half weeks I will be a college graduate. Holy shitballs, right? Right! And, in anticipation of this momentous event, I have found that I have absolutely no direction. None.

Did anyone see this movie? Story of my life. Kinda scary.

Remember when you were five and your teacher asked you what you wanted to be when you grew up? Well, I wrote that I would "Most Like to Be a Cheerleader" and that I would "Least Like to Be a Doctor." Turns out that's still the case...sort of.

Yeah, I don't think so...

I've given this a lot of thought and it turns out that I have become a quasi-cheerleader. No, I don't wear a "cheerleader" uniform (sorry to ruin that fantasy), but I do find myself, at times, cheering...or gabbing. (Side note: Tried the Doctor thang. Turns out: Ain't MY THANG. More on that later.)

Gah! A Gabber, I am. I Gab about a lot of stuff to pretty much everyone. I Gab about Celebrity gossip (RPattz? KStew? Anyone? ANYONE!?), I Gab about going to the University of Michigan , I Gab about my family, my long-distance redheaded boyfriend, my super brilliant four-month-old niece, my newly-found love of Yoga, and, most recently (and importantly), I Gab about not having an ABSOLUTE CLUE about what I'm going to do with my life once I do graduate in three and a half weeks.

Anyone looking to hire a Robsten Gabber? Anyone???

So, this blog is for those of you out there who are just like me: nervous, scared, clueless, jobless, career-less Gabbers. You are NOT alone out there. And, what do we do? All the time? To our mothers and our friends and our long-distance redheaded boyfriends? We GAB! Ah! I love it. I'm obsessed. It's nuts.

It's okay to Gab. It's great to Gab. It's kind of glamorous to Gab, these days. People have made quite a pretty penny Gabbing in our society (I'm talking to you Perez Hilton and Jill Zarin). So, why not capitalize on it? It's the fear: "Who cares what I have to Gab about?" Yep, been there, done that. But, I've decided to own my fabulous Gabbiness and spread it around and share it with y'all. Because, I kind of, sort of, maybe think that people do care to know that we're not alone on our seemingly 'direction-less' path. And, Gabbing about that is totally and completely LEGIT. I promise.

Live it. Love it. Own it. Know it.

Love,

Gabbily Gifted