War of the Worlds

So the lovely other ladies of apartment 3 and I held a classy little soirée last night. We invited about 20 people, all from varying aspects of our lives.


The resulting hodge-podge of friends, co-workers, and significant others got Emma and I talking about what happens when you mix your “worlds.” And more specifically, how nervous it makes us.


For example, say you have a friend who makes questionable jokes. Sure, you know that they’re joking. You know this because you have spent a significant amount of time with this person, learning to understand and differentiate the times when they’re joking and when they’re not. People from other worlds, however, have not put in the time and effort you have.

This can result in what we lovingly call a “clash of the worlds,” or COTW.

Life lesson #126: Blending your worlds comes with certain risks.

Our fear of COTWs makes shindigs — like our cocktail party — especially precarious. You find yourself hovering around conversations with people you’ve invited, poised to leap to the rescue of a questionable joke or anecdote.

Of course, the COTW is rarely as bad as you’re worried it will be. People find something the have in common, they bond, and the conversation goes on. There may be brief kerfuffles, but in general, the party goes on.

And on the off chance one of your friends does embarrass you, you just have to trust that you’ll be able to laugh about it later.

That or keep them safely and securely in their own world.

Caffeine goeth before a fall

Today was not my best.

Things started out OK: got up on time, was ready early, and Emma and I decided to indulge in Free Mocha Monday at McDonalds. (It’s a 6-oz drink. FOR. FREE.)

Things were going great until we had to go down to the subway. Then I stepped on an uneven part of ground and fell. Onto the ground. I’m fine, don’t worry. Besides a microscopic scrape on my knee, I’ll live to enjoy a fully functional life.

In fact, except for a bruised ego, the fall would have gone virtually undocumented except that the free mocha I had previously been excited about spilled. Onto my shirt. Officially making me that sloppy girl who has a brown stain on her shirt in the office. AKA, not the girl you want to hire. Which, incidentally, is something I would like to happen.

I went through most of the morning by trying to cover the stain with my sweater, but by noon, enough was enough. So, after a quick trip to Uniqulo for a remarkably cheap tank top, I was back in business.

Yeah, OK, that was a terrible story. But I feel bad for not posting much lately. I promise something better (WITH PHOTOS!) later tonight about our cocktail party last night. Try not to wet yourself with excitement, k?