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Posts from the ‘The Road to Real Life (aka College)’ Category

He Likes Me, He Likes Me Not.

If you chose to read this to find out if your fling is either hot or cold, chances are it’s probably cold.

Or it’s hot. I don’t know your life.

Or maybe you’re yes then you’re no and you’re in then you’re out and you’re up then you’re down. Okay, I’m dizzy now.

But I do know my own and have learned a few things along the way. Or at least I like to think I have. But I probably actually haven’t, so choose to listen to me at your own risk.  You’ve been warned.

So, I will pose some common scenarios that are often overanalyzed at girls’ brunch and then give my own verdict on the situation. I will be drawing from my own mostly embarrassing romantic past when weighing in. Again, you’ve been warned.

Scenario 1: You texted him. He didn’t answer. Ever.
Brunch Time Justifications That I Have Actually Heard: His phone was broken. He passed out at a party and his crazy ex girlfriend deleted his text messages. He didn’t have anything interesting to say and panicked.

The amount of trouble I went through to get that screenshot is ridiculous. “Hey friend that I changed to “Boy I Fancy” in my phonebook, don’t answer the text I’m about to send you, I need to screenshot it for a blog post.” Now that is dedication folks.

Verdict: Girl, as much as I hate to be the bearer of bad news, he likes you not. I don’t care if he is in the middle of the woods recreating burning man in a wild attempt to “find himself;” if he has cell reception and he likes you, he will find a way to text you back. Even if it’s by smoke signal. Hey, we’ve all been there. You send the text and then throw your phone across the room or hide it under a pillow. And then after the hours have passed with still no response, you send your BFF a text to “make sure your phone is working.” But, don’t let it get you down, there’s other fish in the sea who probably have a smartphone and iMessage is so much better.

Exception: His phone is broken. But, I doubt it.

Scenario 2: You Facebook chat him and he one words you until signing off without saying goodbye.
Brunch Time Justifications That I Have Actually Heard: He forgot to pay his wifi bill and his internet connection was turned off mid conversation. He fell asleep at the computer. He’s the “strong but quiet type.”

Homeboy goes hard while watching YouTube videos and reading College Humor articles.

Verdict: He probably likes you not. Contrary to what is sadly popular belief, if a guy is into you he will assist in perpetuating the conversation. It takes two to tango, or in this case Facebook chat. He will say more than “nothing” when you ask him what he did today. I mean you aren’t his mom asking the 8th grade version of him what he learned at school today.

Exception: He has nothing to say because he is boring. If that is the case run in the other direction. You need a stimulating conversation partner.

Scenario 3: You’ve hooked up with a guy a few times. He seems interested but is always busy when you try to make plans to hang out.
Brunch Time Justifications That I Have Actually Heard: He probably is busy! He’s too tired to hang out! You intimidate him!

Except he doesn’t. womp womp.

Verdict: This one is a little harder to judge. Because chances are if you’re hooking up with a productive member of society, he really is busy. However, I don’t care how busy he is. If he’s into you, he will make time for you. Even if it’s just for a quick coffee date in between working a 9-5, teaching inner city kids how to read and working on his painting of the city night skyline. Actually, if your boy matches that description, can you kindly send him my way ? But I digress. If he is always mysteriously busy, he may just be around for the benefits.

Exception: He really is too busy. But no one wants to get involved with a workaholic.

Sorry if any of this was too harsh. Just look at this picture of Ryan Gosling. I promise it will make you feel better. And drop the duds! No boy is worth that much analysis. You have more important things to worry about at brunch like will it be a mimosa or a bellini.

If you insist.

Images courtesy of Google.


My opinions on love as formed from being the child of high school sweethearts

By Gabriella Iarrobino

My parents went to prom together.

Several people can make that claim. But how many can make the claim “my parents went to prom together and still like each other”? I have yet to do any extensive research on this question so I really have no idea. All I know is that I certainly can.

My mother met my father when she was 15 and he was 18. Now if I had brought home an 18 year old when I was 15, my mother would have had none of that nonsense. Actually forget about my mother, my grandmother would have called the National Guard. You would expect my father to be the scary one, but that definitely goes to my grandmother. But that is way beside the point.

She may look like a sweet old lady, but she’ll chase any potential suitors down the driveway with a broom. Ask my father.

My parents were each other’s first and only loves. Granted they broke up a grand total of eleven times before finally getting hitched but I suppose those things happen when you get into serious relationships at a young age.

Contrary to what you may think, I do not walk around expecting every relationship to end in marriage. We all have those friends. You know exactly the ones I’m talking about. They are the friends who ask you if their current flame’s last name sounds good with their first name and have been morphing their faces together on that creepy baby generator website.

“I think she really looks like an Amanda.”

Really? Because it looks like something straight out of Prometheus.

This is actually cuter.

I digress. Again.

They have encouraged me not to marry young and often scoff at my friends who are in heavy relationships despite the fact that is exactly what they did. This has given me an interesting perspective on love. While many of my friends’ insecurities get the best of their relationships—to the point where I have to insist several times that no I won’t let you stand on my back for the extra boost to see if he’s really in his buddy’s apartment playing poker—I have more of a “no one is worth that much effort, there’s other fish in the sea” philosophy.  Thanks, Mom!

Vintage relationship stalking.

Finally, my parents’ relationship has lasted so long because of the respect they give each other. My father treats my mother with so much love and respect that you’d think he was still trying to court her. Due to my father being a respectful man, I don’t have any daddy issues. Zero, zilch. Sorry predatory older men. You will never find me with a man who disrespects me. I don’t want no scrubs! You better be able to pay your bills, bills, bills. Okay, that channeling of 90’s girl groups was a little much, even for me.

Sometimes I forget that I’m not actually a member of Destiny’s Child.

What I’ve come to realize is that being the child of high school sweethearts has shaped my opinions on love more than I thought until recently. I seem to think I have my head screwed on pretty straight when it comes to these matters. I guess it’s just a matter of time if I end up happily ever after with prince charming or a lot of dogs. Because let’s be real, I ain’t no cat lady.

Images courtesy of Google and my own iPhoto library (not confessing to which ones are which)

It’s a Mad Mad World: Life Lessons from Mad Men *SPOILERS*

WARNING: There are enough spoilers in this piece that if you’ve never seen Mad Men, you’ll never have to.

By Gabriella Iarrobino

Being that I am a marketing major and hope to one day go into advertising, it is not surprising that one of my favorite shows is Mad Men. When people used to ask me what my major was, I’d usually reply “Don Draper,” until I realized that joke was no longer funny/ was really never funny. It’s not like I’m learning how to steal identities, drink Canadian Club like it’s water and cheat on my spouse. However, watching Mad Men has taught me a few things about advertising and life in that I would never have learned in a classroom. Here are the top ten.

1. It’s okay to get drunk at work as long as it is in the spirit of being creative, celebrating an achievement, or drowning the sorrows of (but not limited to): losing a client, not winning a big account, having a client hate your pitch & the guilt of cheating on your wife.

2. It’s a smart idea to write an open letter bad mouthing your former client in a one page advertisement in the New York Times, acting as if you are the moral compass for life even though you have had more mistresses than anyone can count through the duration of five seasons.

3. When your secretary turned wife turned junior copywriter quits her job to pursue acting, the elevator in your office building will probably not work and will serve as a metaphor for life that no one will ever really get without the help of Wikipedia.

4. Taking LSD ends in divorce and/or thinking you are at the 1919 World Series game. It also will inspire you to buy psychedelic/ugly art to hang in your office as an homage to your mind altering experience. May also end in the wearing of Hawaiian shirts when drunk or standing stark naked in your office window after hours overlooking New York City.

5. If your life ends up being an episode of “I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant” and the shock of the event ends up with you being institutionalized for a period of time–your mother and sister will end up raising your child. Its okay to care about more trivial things like why you aren’t the lead copywriter on the Jaguar account than why you refuse to acknowledge your child’s existence. It’s also a plus to act morally superior to everyone and not tell the child’s father. The child also will never be mentioned or seen again after season 2.

6. If a man dies in the Korean War, its okay to steal his identity. You’ll probably end up going to California to meet his wife who really doesn’t care you did this. You’ll end up paying for her home and visiting her every year. She’ll end up being the only woman you ever actually love completely because she knows your name is actually Dick Whitman. The name Dick will end up being painted on her wall which will make it awkward for you when your daughter sees it and asks you who Dick is. You’ll give her ring to your secretary turned fiancee post coitus in Disney Land.

7. Sometimes, even though the theme of an episode is so glaringly obvious, you need to have an irrelevant character from season 1 reappear and blatantly say it in an elevator with your protagonist.

8. Orange sherbet is a great source of conflict.

9. When you end up marrying an incredibly nice and handsome man who treats you better than anyone you have ever known, you’ll probably still be jealous of your womanizing ex husband and his new wife. You’ll use your daughter to cause conflict with them. When that doesn’t work, you’ll throw groceries in your kitchen.

10. When you can only afford to buy the rights to an old French song, have an attractive woman sing it to her her much older husband and all his coworkers in lingerie. It will end up in the iTunes top 10 and you will be able to press it into vinyl and it will actually sell. Zou bisou bisou!

Images courtesy of Google.

The Long and Winding Road [Trip]

By Gabriella Iarrobino

I wear several hats. And I’m not talking the beanie type. Okay I actually do wear those sometimes but I am referring to the cliche of wearing metaphorical job hats.

One of those metaphorical hats is manager of the Boston based hardcore band Foul Weather Fans.

And how did I end up managing a hardcore band when I am usually rocking out to hip/hop or some “hipster nonsense” indie band? That is a question I will save for another day, and by another day, I mean another post.

This weekend, the band scored a gig at a bar in Atlantic City. That meant it was time to pack up my family’s mini van (affectionately called the MV) with musical gear and drive down to New Jersey.

The trip to Atlantic City took a total of 7.5 hours. In those 7.5 hours, I realized something. There is nothing quite like being locked in a car with some of your closest friends. You’re forced to do nothing but talk to each other or sit there in a comfortable silence. Actually, there was never really silence. I was in a car with three musicians so you know the soundtrack was first rate.

My friends are wholeheartedly dedicated to making this band their career. Their drive to make their passion a career inspires me. Although I may be slightly biased, they are some of the most talented people I have ever known. I believe in their ability to be at least the next Brand New, if not Green Day.

Being around them pushes me to believe more in my dreams and my art. Watching them plan their lives around making this band become a successful endeavor has only further cemented my career path to somehow make writing profitable. I always knew I wanted to be a creative in the advertising field, but surrounding myself with passionate artists has made me believe I can achieve this goal.

And at the end of the day, how can you complain when your friends are human jukeboxes?

Dating & why I am horrible at it

How I interact with men at bars.

By Gabriella Iarrobino

“I just wish I could start a relationship about twelve years in, when you really don’t have to try anymore, and you can just sit around together and goof on TV shows, and then go to bed without anybody trying any funny business.”—Liz Lemon

Liz Lemon is my dating spirit animal. She just gets me. I wish she was real and I was a lesbian because then my work would be done.

But alas, my work is not done.

I hate the game. I’m terrible at it. If we were speaking in video games, it would be set to “easy” and I would search to look for ways to make it easier.

The game usually involves plastering on too much make up, wearing something that your BFFs deem “hot but still cute,” (I put my foot down when it comes to heels, no pun intended) and heading out to bars to stand in a circle with your friends until a group of males comes over and buys you drinks all night. After one too many gin and tonics the game may end in an embarrassing and messy make out session on the dance floor of aforementioned bar.

Some of my friends are, still speaking in the video game metaphor, playing on expert and are the ones who contribute the cheats to They navigate the bar with ease, eye fornicating with the cutest guy in the bar until he comes over and chats them up and buys them drinks for the remainder of the evening. They are often juggling dates with numerous boys and their biggest issue is “which one to pick.” They love the chase; it’s their favorite part.

I on the other hand, despise it. I much rather prefer a night of Magic Hat beers and listening to my latest vinyl with a guy who has something interesting to say than dragging my over eye lined face around to the bars of Boston for the possibility of talking with a drunken guy who just stumbled out of Fenway Park. “Talking” usually involves yelling over whatever popular Katy Perry song is playing at the time.

Once my friends have their interest in a guy, they text them flirty things to keep them interested. They are often spotted giggling, looking down at their phones. “He’s just so funny,” they will say.

Shh, letting you in on my masterful art of seduction.

I on the other hand hate texting boys. It is a fact of 21st century “romance” that I have just come to accept. I use romance lightly, as actual romance would involve talking face to face, not using an emoticon that attempts to convey flirtation. When I’m in the texting phases with a new boy, it often involves me running over several drafts of a cutesy message with my roommate, which I usually just scrap for “hey, what’s up?” Throughout the duration of the conversation, I may type something that I find so embarrassing I have to erase the entire iPhone thread because looking at it makes me want to throw up.

After the texting becomes boring, my friends will then hang out/go out on a date with the guy. They again, get all prettied up and go out to dinner at some posh Boston restaurant where the guy picks up the tab. A hook up straight out of a Nicholas Sparks movie follows.

If that was me, I would have fallen of the dock.

When it’s my turn to do that, I throw every single item of clothing that I own on my bed, trying on 80 different things before I decide on the classic black jeans/denim jacket combination.  We may end up at a coffee shop where I awkwardly slip out my wallet and insist on going dutch because it’s the 21st century, damnit! And god help me if we end up back at one of our apartments because usually in the shuffle of all 80 outfits I tried on prior, I forgot to shave my legs.

See, dating is not my thing. I much prefer the boring stuff that comes with the familiarity of knowing someone, hence why Liz Lemon preaches my reality.

So until that person comes around, I’ll probably see you at a local Boston bar, awkwardly swaying to “We Are Young,” wearing a shade of eye shadow that my friend made me wear.

How I dance at bars.

Or if you’re a guy who wants to kick back on my roof deck with a six pack and a rap/hip hop/indie rock/alternative/any kind of good music album, holllla at me.

Images courtesy of Google.

For what it’s worth, it was worth all the while. (But a lesson learned in time).

By Gabriella Iarrobino

This weekend my not so little, younger brother is graduating from high school. Today he came home with his senior yearbook, which of course I read out of curiosity.

As I flipped through the pages, I was greeted with dozens of unfamiliar faces, posing in locations that were so familiar to me.

That’s the hallway where that infamous girl fight broke out that ended up in weave flying everywhere!

Oh that’s the bathroom I would walk extra slow to during Calculus!

 In addition to not recognizing students, there were countless new teachers that I did not recognize either. For some reason, a place where I spent five years (8th grade was in the high school, I was not kept back!) of my life was so foreign.

So of course, I was inspired to dust off my yearbook and look at it for the first time in three years. Now I understand three years is not a long time, but to someone who is 21 it is.

Now, let me disclose that I hated high school. I was an awkward misfit who kept more to the books than to what rockin party was going on in the woods that weekend. I wasn’t bullied per se, but I was never treated with the respect that I deserved from the “cool kids.” I was looked down upon as inferior because I studied on the weekends instead of knocking back Natties in some stoner’s basement. Even though my class hasn’t even graduated college yet, I’m already getting the last laugh at those individuals.

However as I started looking at my yearbook, memories came back to me. And they weren’t negative ones! I was utterly shocked. Three years have passed since I walked across the stage, high school diploma in hand. On that day, I swore I would never look back.

In a sense, I never really have. I’ve let go of all the animosity I held in high school and am a much happier person. I have amazing friends and Emerson College has changed my life.

However, I have a newfound sense of maturity when I look back on my high school experience. I finally appreciate it. While I never want to go back, I came in contact with people who impacted me in ways I never realized until this moment. Without my experiences in high school, I honestly do not think I would be where I am today.

High school is such a weird place. At the time it defines you. So much so that a piece of who you were then is always with you. But once you graduate, that definition is gone within a matter of months. Much like all of the promises to “keep in touch” scribbled in the back of your yearbook.