We Wanted to Hate Your Humble Brag but Now We Hate You

09.10.12

 

Last week I got together with a girlfriend and, as is often the case, we got to talking about social media. Social Media is comprised of people so we talked about a few people and what their twitter and facebook streams look like.

And then She Who Will Remain Unnamed (SWWRU) mentioned a mutual friend’s habit of (not so) humble bragging.

“Humble Bragging?! I shook my tequila at her, there isn’t an ounce of humility in that woman’s vocabulary. It all starts with ‘I’m so fabulous’….” I screeched. “Every photo is a selfie and she never talks about anyone but herself.”

Then we both admitted to having used Muuter on her, next we both admitted to having silenced her on the facebook timeline. So at this point we were guessing whether or not she was still humble bragging, bragging or quite possibly dead and buried because having not heard from someone in three weeks means that they no longer exist. Right?

And then SWWRU and I started talking about how people whose timelines are full of nothing but parties make us jealous even if we were invited to those same parties and decided to stay home. I’m not saying this is logical I’m just saying this is how it works. If you’re a woman you understand if you’re a man you might want to just nod a lot and take notes.

Of course we don’t like feeling jealous of someone who is out five nights a week with whatever brand comes calling because we don’t want to be that person. The idea of working for cocktails and swag is abhorrent but the Not So Humble Bragger has made it actually look appealing. This is why she is so annoying. Turning a brag page into appeal is a talent I suppose and perhaps one day she’ll be paid with something more than a $14 martini at SkyBar.

To recap SWWRU and I end up feeling jealous of an acquaintance (let’s be fair, that’s what many Facebook friends are) who is going places we don’t want to go and taking home bags full of crap we don’t want. That is why she has become the frenemy.

We agree that we don’t like this in ourselves, we don’t want to feel jealous of things we never wanted to begin with. We want to be the kind of women who celebrate our friends’ successes. We want to be the kind of women who have successful friends. Instead we wasted 11 perfectly good minutes talking about someone who brings out the worst in us.

 

 

Call Your Girlfriends First

05.31.11

One of the great love affairs in my lifetime has been the one I have with my city, Los Angeles. I love living here, I love it’s brief history and I love parts of this city that few other people seem to care about. So when LA Noir was released I was one of the first to grab a copy, not the first, but one of the first.

I put the kids to bed and then ran downstairs to pop it into the Playstation and proceeded to play so horrendously it was laughable. With my siren running I drove the police car on sidewalks, and when I meant to ask passers-by questions I punched them instead. I was a very very bad cop.

The second day was better. I was no longer plowing down citizens and I seldom punched them, but I’d have been fired from anyone’s force. There was a bank robbery and a good bit of blood and shooting, but I still wasn’t seeing why it was rated M.

I remembered that my friend Laurie had a copy of the game so I called her up and asked her why I couldn’t let my kids play. Thus far it wasn’t exactly a wholesome game, but I didn’t see why it needed to be kept under lock and key.

“Oh no you can’t let your kids play. A friend of mine wrote a review of it and she was talking about a crime scence where a woman’s dress was pulled up over her waist and you could see pubic hair.”

“Yikes, I don’t need Alexander seeing that.”

“That’s not all, then when you investigate there’s anal bruising and semen analysis.” Laurie gave me a few more details but I was busy hyperventilating at the thought that I’d nearly handed my son the controller so that he could help me not drive on sidewalks.

Then we started talking about the usual stuff, parenting, work, marriage. I started to tell Laurie how I felt badly that I’m not going out much at night anymore, that I’m skipping BlogHer and other similar conferences. I told her that I needed to be home with my kids and that my work days with them seem to be starting at 3pm these days.

Plain as day she said, “Of course you do.”

And really that was all I needed to just collapse. Because when your kids are a little bigger it’s easy to let people tell you that you don’t need to be home with them. It’s easy to feel like they’re okay on their own, and they very well may be okay.

But okay is different than good, and Jane and Alexander didn’t stop needing parenting when they learned to make their own snacks, and just because Jane can be left home alone doesn’t mean she should be left. So when you feel conflicted about parenting, mothering, and marriage go call a girlfriend because four words might be all you need.