Lessons I’ve Learned from my Best Friend…. And Chelsea Handler

I just finished reading Chelsea Handler’s book “Uganda Be Kidding Me,” (by recommendation from my best friend, Jill) and wow, I don’t remember the last time I was in tears laughing so hard from a book. I quickly learned that this was not a book I should read at work. I’m sure the people in the ER don’t need to listen to a 20 some year old’s high pitched laugh while they’re sick with the Flu or are in the middle of a GI Bleed.

In any case, surprisingly enough I learned a lot from Chelsea Handler! A lot of these things I already knew though because I had learned them from Jill.

This is Jill.

This is Jill.

Let me start by saying Jill is my everything. She is totally the kind of girl I would take home to meet my parents, just so they would know that I do indeed make great life decisions. She’s the person I seek guidance from in all things. I have told her numerous times that I want to tattoo “WWJD” on my wrist, until she so sweetly in that very Jill way informed me that I cannot do that because that acronym is already taken.

This book is about the several trips Chelsea Handler has taken throughout adulthood from Botswana to Switzerland. But she never goes anywhere without her best friends, specifically her best friend Lesbian Shelly. Their relationship is much like mine and Jill’s in that Shelly is a lot like Jill, minus the lesbian part.

Jill and her fiance. Just to clarify, Jill is not a lesbian.

Jill and her fiance. Just to clarify, Jill is not a lesbian.

So between Chelsea Handler and Jill, I have learned many life lessons. Here are just a few of them:

A best friend is someone you can call in case of emergency. At one point, Chelsea Handler brought home a new puppy that overnight tore apart their whole house. Chelsea immediately woke up Shelly and asked her what to do. I remember one time I dropped candle wax all over my dresser because I accidentally closed the window on a burning candle. It got all into my eyes, down my dress, and all over the carpet. I texted Jill, “umm. How do you get candle wax out of stuff…” and she said “oh dear, we’ll figure it out.” I was so comforted by the fact that we were now in this together.

Animals are life. If you’ve ever seen Chelsea Lately, you are probably already acquainted with Chunk Handler, Chelsea’s adorable dog. She is so in love with him that he flies on her private plane and Chelsea will fly commercial. Chelsea also believes that Chunk is the spirit of her mother. Well, the only other person I know that is nearly as obsessed with her pet is Jill. I don’t think Jill thinks Henrietta is her mom, although I have seen Henrietta and Jill’s mom (who by the way, has a sense of humor to rival Chelsea Handler) together and they are two peas in a pod. I mean, who wouldn’t be obsessed with this adorable face?

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Don’t be fooled by her ridiculous good looks.

Every conversation with Jill consists of what Henrietta is up to these days, what she’s doing now, and how she can’t stop talking about me. If you talk to Henrietta in front of Jill, Jill will fill in the voice for Henrietta, and it always makes sense.

“Hi Henrietta! Remember me?”

Jill’s response: Hi Meow-vanti!
Henrietta’s response: HI(SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS)!!!!!!!!!

Oh, and for your Birthday and Christmas, you just might get a card from Jill and Henrietta. It’s a pretty sweet deal.

All things can be fixed with laughter, alcohol… And a razor. Whenever Chelsea finds herself in a pickle, her first solution is to find the closest Bloody Mary or margarita. They found themselves in the middle of Africa on a horrible resort where the coolest thing to see was a squirrel. Chelsea’s response was, “we didn’t fly all the way here to look at a squirrel,” and they proceeded to tell the tour guide to take them home so they could drown in their miseries.

The last awful series of events in my life was when I had gotten into a car accident, had a consecutive number of horrible days at work, and locked myself out of the house twice over the period of 3 days. The final time I locked myself out of my house, was right before mine and Jill’s Monday night girls night. I had just driven an hour back home from work only to realize that I had lost my key again. I was sitting in my front yard, inside of my car (not knowing that my house key was underneath my seat the entire time) on the verge of tears. Jill told me to just come right over even though I had nothing with me and desperately needed a shower and to shave my legs after working in the ER for 10 hours. Once I got there, she handed me a glass of wine, a towel, a razor, and one of her dresses. By the time I stepped out of her bathroom I felt like a whole new woman! Jill literally has the reset button on me. I guess you could say I’m her Gigapet.

Manners are our friends. Chelsea Handler having no manners needs no explanation and this book has so many wonderful examples of that, like being rude to tour guides, not powering down her cell phone before take off, and answering the door without bikini bottoms. Her friends are always there to steer her in the right direction. As for me, Jill has always reminded me to use my manners. Like the other day when she burped and said excuse me and I said nothing, she repeated, “I said excuse me.” And I, as any normal person would do, stared blankly at her as if I thought I knew the appropriate response in this social situation but all that came out was “goo.” Jill reminds me on a regular basis that I was actually raised by a pack of wolves and she’s in the process of re-raising me now. Thanks Jill.

There is no such thing as a dumb question. One of my favorite parts of this book is when Chelsea asks her sister, Simone, something that had been troubling her. “Simone, I need to ask you something but it has to stay between us. Is the moon… the sun? Like, are they the same thing?” After her older sister answered her question, Chelsea requested she not repeat that that had just happened Simone responded, “it’s ok Chelsea. You not knowing is a poor reflection on me.”

Everyone needs that person you can ask dumb questions to. Jill is mine. Yesterday I asked her “why are there so many cats?” She politely responded with an actual historical answer. I didn’t even know there was a history behind cats. Maybe she was just making it up, I don’t know. But Jill could feed me any lie and I would believe her entirely. If that’s not true love I don’t know what is. Later that day we also had the following conversation:

“Jill, do Pilgrims still exist?”
“What?”
“Like, how come when people introduce themselves they’ll say ‘I’m Irish’ or ‘I’m Indian’ but no one says ‘I’m Pilgrim’?”
“No, they don’t exist anymore.”
“What do you mean no? How can a whole race of people disappear??”
“It’s not a race. It’s more like a status. A Pilgrim is someone who crossed the ocean to come to America during the 17th century.”
“Oooooh! Well, my people crossed the ocean to come to America too. Am I Pilgrim?”
“No, Pilgrims with a capital P are the white people that came to America. But you’re ancestors are pilgrim with a lower case p!”
“Wow, Jill. That’s the most racist thing I’ve ever heard.”

At the end of the day , I don’t even need anyone else. Jill pinky promised me that if we out-live our future husbands that we can live together as old ladies and become lesbians. And, well, pinky promises are blood.

I guess Jill will have more in common with Lesbian Shelly that we thought!

Happy birthday, Jill! I love you so much!!! I don’t know what I would do with out you! And I can honestly say, I don’t know what would become of me if I didn’t have you.

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xoxo,
Avi

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5 Reasons Why I have Considered Deleting Facebook (but can’t)

The original concept of Facebook was awesome: being able to connect with your college friends and then staying in touch as the years went on.

The operative word here being “original.” I am sorry to say that I was part of that generation that ruined Facebook. Once my generation came along, high schoolers realized there was another avenue of social media to let every stranger in the world know where they are, what they’re doing, and give them another opportunity to creep on them. I, having an older sister and knowing what Facebook was intended for, did not have one until I graduated high school and got into college. So I suppose I’ve always had somewhat of a distate for Facebook: and for as long as I’ve had one it’s only evolved into something I don’t want to use even more.

I’m not sure when games, obnoxious advertisements, and sharing to the 5th degree was ever intended to be integrated into social media. It was tolerable before, but with every new evolution of Facebook, it becomes increasingly intolerable. We’ve gone from the “poke” to Farmville to the point where I have seriously considered deleting it altogether.

I know what you’re thinking; why don’t you just delete your Facebook then and quit whining about it? Trust me, as much as I want to, it’s an addiction. It’s like knowing how terrible cigarettes are for you and not being able to quit. Facebook is my drug and social-media-cancer is my imminent death.

In the mean time, I’m going to whine about it. Here are 5 reasons why I have considered deleting my Facebook:

1. Procrastination
It’s our go-to method of avoiding homework, work, or doing anything productive in life. Even though you’ve convinced yourself that you won’t log on during exam week or you’ve deleted the app from your cell phone a thousands times, you somehow find yourself at the corner of “man I want to tell the world how much I love this song” and “but I really need to finish this project.” Who wins in the end? We all know the answer to that one.

2. It puts you in a bad mood

Or maybe it’s just me. Or maybe it’s all women. So many us fall victim to “virtual envy” and Facebook is our first avenue. How many times has this happened to you/your friend/your sister: You’ve been dating a guy for 6 years and have been waiting for him to propose for 5 and everytime another one of your friends gets engaged, you defriend them/block them from your newsfeed/immediately close out the notification. But it keeps popping up in your news feed because your friend’s-mother’s-sister also happens to be friends with her and she liked her status, “happily engaged! Can’t wait for the big day!” and there you are, at the bottom of a carton of Ben and Jerry’s.

Ok maybe I’m exaggerating. But only a little.

3. Judgement Central

When was the last time you stopped yourself from posting a picture because you didn’t want your Facebook “friends” to judge you and your life decisions? It’s because we’re friends with 1,000 people and only really know about 20 of them. I’d say don’t worry about that long lost relative or that old college roommate who didn’t know how to keep her music down, but then I’d be a hypocrite.

4. DRAMA! DRAMA! DRAMA!

Whether it’s “I cannot believe she defriended me” or your mother calling you at endless hours of the night because your dad’s sister’s husband’s sister in India whom you’ve never met in your life somehow came across a picture of your new boyfriend and *gasp!* he’s not Indian! And privacy settings? Who is Facebook trying to kid. If I had a dollar for someone who wasn’t supposed to see my Facebook that did I’d be rich enough to buy Facebook.

5. I don’t need to know about some giraffe somewhere being killed and fed to the lions.

Or accidentally coming across a video of baby chicks being shredded into McDonalds chicken nuggets. Facebook is everyone’s hub to mandatorily make people read what they have to say or watch the videos they post as their friends scroll through their newsfeed.  And who’s brilliant idea was it to automatically play videos? “That way, as people scroll across them when they’re in a doctors office and they accidentally leave their volume on, everyone will stare at them as an obnoxious blonde chick is screaming out of their phone or a monkey is humping it’s girlfriend! It’s brilliant!” And don’t even get me started on Bit Strips.

Oh yeah- and defriending those friends that post stupid stuff like this doesn’t work either. Because as long as someone you know liked a post, you can see things from people you don’t even know (half the time I swear I don’t even know the liker). And honestly, I don’t need to see what your mother’s-sister’s-friend’s-plumber posted, liked, or shared on Facebook because usually something depressing, offensive, or stupid. Once in a while I’ll come across something pretty awesome! But then the next thing will be back to ridiculousness and it’s not even worth it.

Maybe a total deletion of Facebook is pretty harsh. Maybe I’ll just have 10 Facebook friends and a waiting list and the minute one of them does something stupid, they’re out and the next one is in.

Beware my friends.

Much luv,
Avi