Monthly Archives: May 2011

Weekend Round-Up


I spent $160 at the grocery store and did laundry like a boss.  Everyone should wish they were as awesome and popular as I am.  I think I might have even gone to bed at 10:30PM.


My dearest cousin Josephina rolled into DC Saturday morning from Hot-lanta after being in a car, 2 airplanes, a bus, a metro and a taxi.  It’s in the cousin code:  one is not required to go an hour + out of one’s way to pick up another cousin at the airport.  Ain’t my fault she flew into BWI.

Due to the Metro being a cluster fuck of epic proportions during holiday weekends, I made my very uncoordinated cousin bike to Chinatown.  She was not pleased, both by the fact that it was hot outside and apparently I am not very good at directing people.  “Go left!” I’d yell and then stop short.  Or change my mind and go right.  Or run a yellow light.  Halfway down K Street we just started  yelling at each other.

“You’re just like your mother!’
“No, you are!”

We’re very mature like that.

Saturday night we grilled chicken and asparagus and ate a grip of tortellini.  Josephine, despite enjoying asparagus, makes a conscious decision to abstain from consuming it due to the fact that it makes your pee smell strange.  Between the asparagus and my new vitamins (Grown-up as hell!  I take vitamins!) that makes me pee neon yellow– going to the bathroom was moderately shocking.  Sorry, I know that was an over-share.


Sunday morning Josephine and I were reading the paper and preparing to watch some movies when my friend from college, Sparks, called to tell me that she was not only in DC, but near my house.  She was captain of the rugby team when I was president and my wing man for all things rugby related.  We spent the entire fall quarter of our senior year shoving our faces with cupcakes trying to make rhyme or reason of our rugby responsibilities– usually while the little boy I nannied for was talking shit to other 2 year olds on the playground.

Josephine and I met Sparks in Eastern Market shortly after her call, made a bee-line for the bar and started bonding.  Being that we hadn’t seen each other in almost 2 years– the casual afternoon bloody marys very quickly switched to Coors Light in rapid succession and Irish Car Bombs.  About 4 hours and a $125 bar tab later, the three of us walked out entirely too drunk for 5PM.  Sparks and I were faced with the stark realization that we are not in college anymore.  We were rugby players.  Day drinking was something we once excelled at.  No longer.

After we stuck Sparks in a cab, Josephine and I walked to T Bone’s for pulled pork sandwiches, took a brief nap on her living room floor and then watched about 4 hours of Jerseylicious.  And I am not ashamed one bit.  Jerseylicous is amazing.  If only I could figure out how to convince the frat boys it was better than baseball, I’d watch it 24/7.


Yesterday was boring in comparison.  T Bone and I saw a weird movie, ate an entire large popcorn with extra butter, did some shopping, worked out.  I think I’ll be avoiding day drinking for the near future.  I guess despite my best intentions, I am getting old– which is stupid.


Leave a comment

Filed under Uncategorized

In addition


Today is my brother Tim’s 22nd birthday and yesterday was the baby Jack’s 19th birthday.  The day Tim came home from the hospital, my mother placed him on the couch in the living room and went into the kitchen to talk to my grandmother.  My 22 month old self decided to pick up my new brother Tim (who was in fact ruining my reign as the favored and only child) and put him on the floor.  When my mother came back into the room to check on her now crying newborn and asked how Tim had gotten on the floor, I shrugged my shoulders and walked away.  I didn’t like that kid anyways.  At least back then– now I think he’s the jam.  Happy birthday, Timmy!

Jack was born the day before Tim turned 3 and became “Tim’s birthday present” (sorry about your gifts, kid).  The day after he was born, I walked into my mom’s hospital room, demanded the child and spent a lovely afternoon laying in bed with my new minion on my lap watching Sesame Street and drinking juice boxes.  I was living at home a couple summers ago enjoying fun-employment and got to spent quality time with Jack for the first time in a while.  He was 17 and pleased he had an older sister around who would provide him beer in exchange for his company.  We spent the summer drinking tall boys on the boat and attempting to play tennis.  Our tennis skills suck.  Our boating skills are awesome.


We may or may not have consumed alcoholic beverages on the Mall last night prior to our game– vodka mixed with seltzer water and blue jell-o powder.  In the off chance I did consume it, I highly recommend it.

We played excellent defense during our kickball game, but couldn’t get more than a couple runs.  I spent most of the game sharing candy with the 3rd base ref while the 3rd base coach talked shit about the old man running his team.  The old man was in fact a bit of a douche and failed to recognize that kickball is supposed to be fun.  We’d drank just enough vodka to do a bit of shit talking, but were sober enough to feel a little bit bad afterward.

Matty had an epic play in which he tripped over 2nd base and fell, but managed to keep his toe on the base.  I took my mother’s advice and aimed for the girl in pink shorts who kept dropping the ball.   We lost 5-2, but at least we had more fun than the other team.  Better luck next week, yo.

1 Comment

Filed under Uncategorized

Welcome, have a fruit roll-up!


Doin’ the Grown-up is new and (moderately) improved! I cracked open my piggy bank, bought my very own website for the low low cost of $25 per year and then spent the rest of the afternoon wondering how someone my age could be so crap at technology.

After about 2 hours of staring at my computer yesterday messing with the new website, I once again learned life lesson #345: One must never fuck with their own HTML code when one got a B- in HTML class & often kicked out for smelling like beer.

I signed up for the World Wide Web class to fulfill a science requirement my second year of college, figuring that would be easier for me to comprehend than biology. The professor was a dorky tech nerd with big glasses and a receding hairline who often wore his jump drive on a rope around his neck. It is very hard to take someone seriously when they do that.

Louisa and I conveniently had a 2 hour window between when she got off work and I had to be in WWW class and often met at the local pub where her boyfriend tended bar. One afternoon we’d consumed one too many afternoon beers– as the professor leaned over my desk to help me find the error in my web page, I accidentally burped, making it quite obvious that I had Miller High Life for lunch.

The professor and I stared at each other for a whole minute. “I think I’m going to leave, ” I said, saving and closing out of my document.

He shook his head. “I think that’s a good idea.” Needless to say, I didn’t excel. There was a rookie from my rugby team in my class and while we were not into hazing per se, I did forcibly make her explain HTML code to me for the duration of the quarter. And I still never learned.


With our new and improved website, you’re able subscribe for e-mail alerts when there is a new post, as well as leave comments. I do ask that you are kind with your comments, as I have a lot of feelings (floors and floors of feelings) and wouldn’t come up into your work and tell you that you make crap pastries, or your lawyering skills blow or that you are really really bad at math. At least not your face– so please be nice.

I hope everyone enjoys the long weekend. My cousin Josephina is coming into town from Hot-lanta, so we’ll be BBQing and drinking and sight seeing like mother fuckers. See you back here bright and early Tuesday morning.

1 Comment

Filed under Uncategorized

It’s Getting Hot in Herre

And I’m strongly considering taking off all my clothes.  The first 90+ degree is expected tomorrow and I’m already sweating in anticipation.  We had record heat in DC last summer— and I am dreading my second go of it.  Seriously, the two blocks I had to walk from the Metro station to my house at 6pm would often leave me so hot and nauseous that I’d have to lay down.  I am not a summer person.  And you should see how big my hair gets in this humidity.

The frat house does not have central air.  We have window units in our bedrooms but can’t put a typical window unit on our first floor due to the bars on the windows.  One week into May last year and my roommates were so sick of me complaining about the heat that they bought one of those stand up units with an exhaust hose off Craig’s List.  Being in the house was tolerable if you were contained to the living room or bedroom, but daily activities such as showering or preparing any sort of meal sucked.  You try brushing your teeth in a bathroom that is 100+ degrees and then tell me you think summer’s awesome.

I got stuck with a window unit circa when A/C was invented—the knobs had long best lost, so I cranked the thing on and off with a pliers.  I never had any idea which setting it was turned to and no amount of rational thought could change that.  The thing made an incredibly loud rumbling noise— so besides being largely incapable of creating cool air, it also kept me up at night.  And I can sleep through a train wreck.  Being that it was placed in the window near the head of my bed, I slept upside-down with my pillow over my head for 2 months.

I didn’t have a whole night of quality sleep for the entire summer because I was either stiflingly hot or mildly comfortable and awake due to the noise.  I tried everything— fans, earplugs, sleeping naked, attempting to trick myself into enjoying the heat.  At some points I was so tired and convinced that I’d never be cool again that I strongly considered whoring myself out to to anyone with central air.  It was that bad.

This year I decided to be as pro-active as I could about summer.  In addition to being properly dressed, deodorized and equipped with lots of hair gel, I was getting a new A/C unit if I had to pay for it myself.  After a couple heart felt e-mails to our landlord, I was given permission to purchase a new one.  And they were even going to pay!  $149 dollars and a trip to Home Depot later and I was the happiest I could be with a looming 90 days of sweating ahead of me. 

Getting the unit in the window didn’t go smoothly.  I often think my muscles are larger than they really are and decided that I would be able to change out the old A/C unit all by my lonesome.  I didn’t realize that what seemed like a small unit was actually about 2 feet deep and heavy as shit.  I got to the point of no return (tape off, window open, A/C unit rested precariously on the somewhat rotting window sill) before I had to go downstairs and ask A politely for help.  Poor kid gets stuck with all my honey-dos without the benefit of the sexual favors.  He begrudgingly agreed.

“Ok,” I told A referring to the new unit, “I’ll hold it and you stick it in!”.  (That’s what she said.)  About a half hour later, we had accomplished our mission without dropping either the new or old air conditioner out the window and into the back yard*.  We turned it on, high fived and relished in the reasonably quiet hum of my new A/C unit.  It is going to be a good summer, at least sleep-wise.  I can’t really comment on anything that is expected of me outdoors. 

* Although the old window unit might still not be on my floor if there were the case.

Comments Off on It’s Getting Hot in Herre

Filed under frat house, summertime

What the hell is that woman doing?

Click here to see the video this post is referencing.

T Bone, Brynn and I were driving home from Chair Play last night to indulge in a bottle of red wine and an entire tub of Allouete Cheese spread when we witnessed maybe the greatest thing to happen at Lincoln Park in the history of the world.

Driving past the park down North Carolina, a woman dressed in work out clothes, headphones in was doing a bit of a jazz handing/miming/shuffling/Tai Chi-ing thing down the sidewalk.  Why she wasn’t doing this inside the park away from the public is beyond me, but thank god she did.  Brynn mimics her indescribable actions in the first few seconds of our clip.

T Bone pointed and laughed, I slowed the car down as much as I could to not disrupt traffic and made the quick decision to circle the park to find out what she’d do next.  Hoping for a continued performance, we instead found her doing a very deliberate leprechaun/river dance thing which Brynn continues to demonstrate.

What comes next is what we hope she continued after we had to drive away.  It was one of those moments when life is just so good.  T Bone has insisted we now stalk the park each and every Tuesday around 9PM. Her plan is this in case we never find her again:  One of us will do the strange shuffle dance down the sidewalk.  The other person hides in the bushes, points and laughs.  And then we’ll switch.

If anyone knows what exactly this woman was doing, please let me know.  I apologize for the very poor quality of the video.

Comments Off on What the hell is that woman doing?

Filed under Uncategorized

Slow Life Day


Spano, Laura, Liza and Brynn— I like you better than everyone else in the whole world. 


I’ve been dog sitting for the past week for Tsunami— a gigantic German Shepard and something that sheds like a mother and is slightly on the neurotic side.  I normally am quick to volunteer to house sit, as it is a nice mini-break from the frat house, but after a week I am ready to go back to my own bed and the luxury of not being completely covered head to toe in dog hair.

Tsunami and I did pilates in the living room last night while waiting for K to show up.  After the initial anxiety with a foreign object in his living room, he curled up as close as he could next to me and licked me when one of my limbs came close to his mouth.  It was weird. 


Minnesota will have anti-gay marriage question on the ballot in 2012.  I can honestly say that for the first time in my life, Michelle Bachmann aside, I am incredibly embarrassed about where I came from.  Please support Minnesota United for All Families and other organizations fighting against this Constitutional Amendment. 

Speaking of Minnesota politics, Pawlenty announced his bid for president this week.  I direct you to this website to properly express my feelings towards Pawlenty.  In addition, my mom used to skate circles around him on the hockey rink.  Go, mom. 

Comments Off on Slow Life Day

Filed under Uncategorized


Follow me on Tumblr! Subscribe to receive e-mail updates of new posts.  Follow me on Twitter @dointhegrownup!  Or like me on Facebook!  Exactly zero people like me on Facebook at this juncture.  Be the first and I’ll send you a gift (most likely things I find on my desk). 

As always, feel free to e-mail me nice things about my person, or your own person if you wish at  And that is all the self-promotion I’ve got in me for the month.  Don’t you worry your pretty little head.

Comments Off on Self-promotion!

Filed under Uncategorized

Saturday’s a rugby day!

My BFF4EVA Bro Addition was in town this weekend from Chicago for a rugby tournament, thus I spent the majority of Saturday and Sunday driving back and forth from Manassas.  My love and affection for Barrington* is so strong that I even did so willingly.  Twice.  Being that I am allergic to everything green and outdoors from April — September and think Manassas is hell on earth, that is a lot of affection.  I was also very excited to watch his games. 

I played rugby in college for 3 years and was even was the president of the club my senior year— mostly because no one else wanted the job, not because I was particularly apt for the position.  My college’s version of rugby was more so an exercise in losing gracefully and excelling at drinking games, as opposed to the sport itself. 

We usually didn’t have a coach, which meant practices were often abandoned for wing night at the pub.  If you weren’t starting, beers were cracked and cigarettes were lit on the sidelines until you had to go in.  Games were followed by socials, which was one of my favorite aspects of the rugby.  No matter the amount of ass kicking that took place on the pitch (field), the opposing teams would bond over pizza, beer and rugby songs afterwards. 

Rugby is a confusing sport for those who have never played— and no amount of explaining or scratch diagrams can truly explain the rules.  Rookies learn by being shoved in a position and told to wing it.  The tradition and community involved is also like none other.  Just like Minnesotans love other Minnesotans, rugby players love other rugby players.  I think I joined for the tackling and stayed for the parties— plus the 50+ automatic friends.

There are many rights of passage as a rugby player.  The first time you score a try (touchdown), which I did during the last game I ever played in, there is zuluing that must take place.  Your zulu options are as follows: either drink beer out of a boot (cleat) that your teammates spit in or run naked across the field chasing after a punted ball.  If there are more than one of you zuluing, whoever catches the ball doesn’t have to take a naked lap around the pitch. 

Fueled mostly by beer and some words of encouragement, I chose the naked run— in front of 4 rugby teams, many parents/spectators and about 100 yards from Lake Shore Drive.  To this day, I would pick running naked across the field over drinking out of an old boot and quite frankly, I’m sure you would too.

My favorite rookie at the time, John, went out to dinner with his parents following the game.  It was their first rugby experience and were horrified at the public display of nudity.  John’s mother told him that he should find a nice girl to date, “but not one of those rugby girls”. 

I have photographic proof of this young and moderately drunk endeavor.  I’m sure years from now I will cherish these pictures when I am old and wrinkly and my boobs hang down to my knees, but what strikes me now beyond the whoa girl— lay off the carbs/beer, is how happy I looked at that very moment. 

I do miss rugby.  Every spring I entertain the thought of joining a team in DC.  And then I remember the bruises and the practices and that I’m not competitive whatsoever.  But most importantly that my version of rugby— the lackadaisical beer drinking version— is not the real version.  So for now, I’ll watch.

Mouth guards are so hot right now.

*Old rugby nickname— real name Mat.  No mothers are that mean.

Comments Off on Saturday’s a rugby day!

Filed under Uncategorized

Friday Round-Up


We got trounced last night at kickball.  Like a 1,394 to 1 ass kicking.  Not a single one of us had any redeeming qualities— pop flies were bouncing off shins, a home run landed in the reflecting pool in front of the Grant Memorial, the ball was covered in mud.  It was not good. 

In the first inning, I was accidentally blocking 3rd and the runner squared her shoulders, put up her elbows and knocked me right off the base.  I sat on the ground for a whole minute once I righted myself trying to figure out what happened— I was playing kickball, not rugby, right?  I’ve got the road rash to prove it. 

I’d called my mom after our game and told that not only had we gotten schooled, every ball I kicked landed straight in the pitcher’s arms.  

“Rachel Shea, you need to quit looking at the pitcher!  When you’re up to bat, look at the little weak girl in the outfield and kick the ball as hard as you can!  If you look at the pitcher, you’re going to kick it right to him!  Stop doing that!”  Thanks for the pointers, Mom.


Is today apparently.  While I did bike, I rode my own damn bike because Capital Bike Share is firmly on my shit list.  I had to go to 5 different bike stands last night to drop off my bike and was still a mile from where I needed to be.  They are having some serious issues with Capitol Hill and I am not pleased.

My dress this morning, while doable on a cruiser, was in no way going to cut it on a road bike.  I put on yoga pants, hiked my dress up to my hips, threw my heels and purse in a reusable bag that I strapped on like a backpack and biked up K Street as fast as I could to be on time (10 minutes late) for work.  I had the sweatpants off, reusable bag in my purse and high heels on my feet by the time I got out of the elevator. 


My dad sent me this picture last night.  It is from the weekend my mom and brothers dropped me off in Chicago for college and taken at the Lincoln Park zoo.  I was rocking the microweave, Jack (in the middle) still had his “hair helmet” as we called it and Tim— well, Tim has had that same haircut for 10 years now.  We all thought we were total badasses at that very moment.  And still do to this day.

Keep it real, y’all.  See you back here bright and early Monday morning.

Comments Off on Friday Round-Up

Filed under Uncategorized

What comes first– the job or the happiness?

My office environment has offered both amusement and endless hours of banging my head against my desk for the past year and a half.  Despite my frustrations with my job description, I was lucky enough to land in a place in which we are all nurtured for who we are on the inside. 

The CEO wants our office to be a family.  Team building-esque things like happy hours are encouraged.  Milestones are celebrated.  The CEO gets small pleasure when the ladies of the office sneak out early for hot yoga because we are doing it together.  I wouldn’t go so far as to say we group hug before we go home at night but we sure come close sometimes. 

So while I hate my job, there are so many things about my situation that’s great— the people I work with, the opportunities, the flexibly.  We have good benefits and gets raises each year and have been known to meet $2000 bar tab minimums for going away parties.  We have a nice office routine.  We are aware of each others strengths and shortcomings.  We do each other favors. 

But as much as I love those qualities, there is nowhere for me to grow within the company.  While my responsibilities have increased, I’ll always be the bottom person on the totem pole.  Which means I’ll always be the one making the coffee, telling someone when I have to go to the bathroom so the phone will get answered and having conversations about the amount of sugar packets, or lack thereof, in the kitchen.  There is no way for me to have a career in this place. 

So, the logical thing to do is find a company that would provide me with one— tenure, promotions, upward mobility.  But then what if I hate every single second I spend at that place?  What if my co-workers all suck?  What if I don’t feel like a valued and trusted employee?  What if I not only hate my job description, but everything else about the company too?  Then what?  (That was a lot of rhetorical questions, but these are the things that keep me up at night.)

Actively choosing to stay would be a cop out.  When I leave, I’ll be taking a risk.  But for the time being, I am able to pay my bills on time each month.  I have enough cash in my pocket to meet friends for happy hour and buy impulse tickets to Costa Rica.  And when I show up to work 10 minutes late, or wear my ugly Toms around the office, I am forgiven. 

So what is comes right down to is this— should my job make me happy or should my job be a necessary evil to finance my happiness? 

Comments Off on What comes first– the job or the happiness?

Filed under Uncategorized