"Are you on Linked In?"

Like what? Since when is that the new way to get somebody's contact information?

Let us rewind to 7:30 am Thanksgiving morning shall we? So here I am at a "fitness" club playing tennis with the rich and famous. Don't mind me as I stroll in with my Head tennis bag filled with nothing else but a tennis racket and Bailey's Irish Liqueur, of course. HAPPY THANKSGIVING! Alright let's get this exercise stuff over with so I can begin my holiday festivities. After the longest hour and a half of my life in which I struggled way more than necessary playing tennis, I had made it to the promise land. AKA the lounge of the club. *pop* Champagne bottle open and the cheers-ing has begun. As the ladies all take their seats I find myself perched next to one woman's nephew, flown in all the way from that other coast, more specifically California. As I make myself a lil breakfast plate and adult bevvie my mind is in a happy spot for all of 2 seconds when the interrogation begins.

"Where are you from?" "What do you do?" "How long have you lived here?" "Have you been to California?" "You must be smart, what was your GPA?" "Do you enjoy your job?" "Is tennis your only sport?" "How do you feel about the Financial something something something Reform Act?" HOLD UP. what?! I don't even know what that means. Seriously bro, have you not noticed I am giving one word responses and not asking you anything?? I'm just not that into you and honestly all I want is to enjoy my coffee with Baileys and these nummy lil muffins. Plus your eyes are bloodshot. Perhaps Visine could have helped you out this morning.

As we're all finishing up our pre-Thanksgiving celly, this bro mans up and makes a move. "What was your name again?" Smooth bro... "Ashley. Cool. Are you on Linked In?" Then in slow motion, the Aunt swoops in out of no where. "JEFF. STOP. SERIOUSLY. NO. You have no.. Just stop. Like for real." *silence* *more silence* *awkward stares thrown my way from the tennis ladies* Hurry. Think of something, Ashley. Think quickly. "Welllllll..... ha. um.... is there any more Bailieys? I'll just have some on the rocks." There are very few times I'm speechless. I would like to thank California homeboy for adding to that list.

Also over this Thanksgiving holiday, I once again confirmed that I am in no way ready for motherhood. That's right. I'm a female in my *gulp* mid-late... 20's and I do not want and am also very much not prepared for motherhood. Know what I say about that? LONG HAIR DON'T CARE. Let me explain a bit more.... I took care of this dog and it was needy... and annoying... and clingy.... and I just couldn't deal. I had to change around my social calendar for this thing. I even had to pick up its poop! Yarf! If I can't take care of a dog, I fer sure can't take care of a mini-me. Check back in a few years. I might be interested in a dog by that time but for now I'm more interested in the beers, bros, and blogging sans kids/dogs/anything that needs my attention for more than 30 mins at a time.

As one final little note and disclaimer, I would like to say that I'm in no way a bro hater. In fact there are plenty of bros I like and talk to but I can't put them in the blog. It's just not as humorous. They're like... the nice bros (oxymoron I know. I know) that if I blogged about would change the feel of the blog into some mushy "How to get the guy" blog and we all know that's not the path I'm headed down. Unless of course, you're reading this and are the editor of a Love and Relationships portion of a magazine and want to steal my work and make me famous. In that case... I blog about all bros and all situations.