About that TV Spot, Dad

A Chick in Search of a Thing

It’s normal to feel aimless. To seek purpose. Humans have been doing it through the course of existence. Authors have bored me with it through the course of my education (I’m looking at you James Joyce). It’s not that I feel unhappy, but I am in search of my “thing.” The one thing I am great at. The thing that identifies me.

I’m good at a lot of things, but nothing stands out. Writer? Actor? Singer? CrossFitter? No. What I am best at is passable mediocrity. Or sometimes passable slightly-above-average-ness. My test scores showed this growing up. My physical abilities demonstrate this now. And my you-can-be-in-the-chorus-but-don't-ask-for-a-lead performing arts experience deliver this in a harsh dose of reality.

Sometimes I blame my mom. “Why did you let me quit everything?!” my 27 year old self whines to my mommy, “I could have been great!”

And I for sure blame my dad, an advertising executive. Who I suspected then but know now he could have definitely placed me in those TV commercials I begged to be in with Scott Hamilton. What did you even put me in ice skating lessons for, dad? Is this a sick joke?

My husband, who is a rapper with a real EP and a comedian who writes sold out sketch comedy shows in Chicago (and also a successful PR professional), says maybe my job is my thing. I’m really good at my job and I like it. Fuck you, Matt. (I love you).

Maybe it is, though. Maybe my job is my thing in a world where people are identified by and have to steak a claim in the one thing they can be recognized for.

But I invite you and must force myself to step out of that world where we are defined by one thing. It's a tall order, but here are 3 thoughts I hope will help me get there:

1. Take the Chance: 

You can't succeed if you don't try. Better to try and fail than to never try at all. Blah, blah, blah. It's true though. Take the class. Write the piece. Be in the show. Play the instrument. Because it's not about success or failure. Doing it is the thing.

2. You Don't Expire

So many times I have thought to myself, "Well, I guess my time has passed. I'll never be a famous performer, professional athlete, [fill in the blank]." It's hard to remember, especially for women, that you don't expire. There is no real timeline by which you have to accomplish greatness or fade away forever. Push yourself to try new things.

3. Screw Everyone

Originally, I called this "get out of your head." But that doesn't work for me.  This is the hardest part and frankly I can't do it yet. But when I find myself fearing failure, or fearing mediocrity, sometimes I just have to whisper to myself, "screw everyone." They don't matter. Their perception of my success, failure or one true "thing" doesn't matter.


So embrace the concept of the Renaissance Man and find value in the Jacks Of All Trades. Don’t do your thing. Do all the things and don't worry about the results. Find joy in the process.

Because that’s a world where I win. And winning is everything.

(You guys, I’m sorry I ended the post that way. I typed it and laughed out loud and couldn’t delete it. But you all go do you. Whatever that means. Whatever that means is right.)

Stages of Dieting Grief

During some downtime recently, basking in the post-consumption euphoria of a particularly amazing Chipotle burrito whilst also fighting the powerful urge to indulge in a double chocolate chip cookie dessert, I found myself pondering my relationship with food.

I had a revelation: My emotional process for dieting mirrors the psychological process for grieving. If I look back on my Whole Life Challenge experience or any other attempts to diet, for that matter, the phases are evident. As an example, let's take my thought process for said cookie that is lingering in my line of site for the entire time I am composing this post:

Denial

"I don't need to be on a diet. I'm not that fat and I workout a significant amount. Maybe I should just get the cookie. Look at it. It's scrumptious. Mmm. Cookie."

Anger

"Damn everything. Damn myself for pining for the cookie even though I'm not hungry. Damn society for making me feel like I need to diet. Damn Starbucks for stocking it. Damn Nestle Tollhouse for making the first chocolate chip cookie that was the domino to ruin so many lives."

Bargaining

"I mean, Chipotle was a realistically healthy dinner – I got the salad and used no dressing, cheese or sour cream. And really, although a large potion at once, it seemed like a very reasonable volume of food in the context of my intake for the day. I could probably afford the cookie...But wait, I'm getting drinks later and this cookie will cause me to forfeit a beer or two."

Depression

"This sucks. I really want that cookie and beer later. Why does it have to be one or the other? I'm going to miss out on all of it's chocolatey goodness. If only I had a little better self control, I wouldn't have eaten like crap all weekend and would be able to eat this cookie. And if I had much better self control I wouldn't have this debate with myself in the first place. And I wouldn't be such a fatty. I'm worthless. A fat, worthless, self-control lacking slob."

Acceptance

This stage is usually not afforded to me, and I proceed to eat all of the aforementioned feelings. When I do arrive at acceptance, it's begrudgingly: "Well, I guess I need to make the healthy decision (so I can drink beer later)."

The Only 7 Wedding Planning Tips That Matter

So you just got engaged? Congratulations. Now take a seat. Some friends have requested that I write a wedding planning post to impart my new knowledge to future brides-to-be. Probably because my wedding was almost fully planned within two months of being engaged with zero drama.

So first thing's first...

1. Chill out

No really, chill the hell out. All 1,267 of your Facebook friends know how excited you are and that you've probably been dreaming of this moment for a long time. They have acknowledged it with a solid 48-72 hours of nonstop social media engagement and, frankly, are ready to move on. Even members of your family or bridal party, believe it or not, haven't penciled 24/7 wedding planning with you for the next 12 months into their calendars.

So realize you do have time to plan (assuming you've given yourself a standard 8-16 month engagement), craft a vision and be flexible in order to...

2. Keep your eye on the prize

What's your vision for your wedding? Is it to have small, intimate celebration of your new marriage? Is it to throw a giant party for your friends and family? Have it? Good. Now put that vision in the context of your budget and tell me how those particular exotic orchids you're demanding fit into it. For us, we decided that no one was going to leave our celebration and say "great party, but they forgot the chair covers." So we saved that expense and put it towards late night Lou Malnatis pizza, which was cheaper than chair covers and fit better with our vision.

This becomes much easier when you accept that fact that...

3. "The one" doesn't exist

Take a deep breath, you may not like this. There is no such thing as "the one" of anything. I promise, there is not the perfect flower that's going to make your wedding. There is not a single venue that you just have to have under all circumstances. And, contrary to what TLC will have you believe (yes, I'm going to say it) there is not just one wedding dress in the entire world that will look stunning on you walking down the aisle. "The one" only applies to the person you've chosen to marry. And at the end of the wedding, you will be married and have celebrated with those important to you, which is all that matters.

So, like I said, chill out and...

4. Be objective and flexible

Where does all of the money you're throwing into a wedding go? To creative people who are providing a service. From the caterer, to the florist, to planners, to DJs, their job is to understand your vision and deliver on it within budget. Plain and simple. By hiring them, you have put trust in their ability to deliver. So for goodness sake, let them. Instead of many specific requests, use adjectives that describe the tone you're trying to set like vintage, modern, fresh, classic, colorful. If you can force yourself to be flexible within your vision, you will avoid much stress and be able to plan more quickly.

This doesn't mean you can't have any specific requests. But make sure you know the implications on your bottom line and at least listen to recommendations from your vendors - They do this for a living. But at the end of the day...

5. It's your goddamn wedding

The best advice I received personally is that "Everyone will have an opinion, and they'll all suck." Yes, that's a little dramatic, but it's easy to forget that generally the only opinion that matters is your own. Everyone on The Knot thinks that honeymoon registries are tacky and viciously attacks those considering them in forums? (Seriously, those bitches are mean). Your Facebook "friend" thinks electronic RSVPs will reduce your event to that of a "backyard BBQ" (hmph.) People think your wedding party is too large or too small? Screw 'em. When they get married, they can do it however they want. This is your time and it should be however you want it.

But beware, bridezilla, because even though it is your goddamn wedding...

6. It's not actually all about you

I mean this specifically for the portion of planning that affects your wedding party. Don't cram their schedules so full that they can't enjoy your wedding experience. Let your bridesmaids provide input on the dress selections and give them options to discuss. For my bridesmaids, we went with my second favorite option, because it was their clear favorite and both ultimately fit with my vision. Be flexible and considerate.

But no matter how flexible you are during planning, it's extremely likely that...

7. Something will go wrong

When this happens, simply apply the previous six principles. There is no problem you won't be able to tackle if you exercise calmness, flexibility and courtesy, and remember the only thing that matters is celebrating with those you care about. At my cousin's wedding, someone forgot to set out the place cards, which we later learned really stressed out the newlyweds. But none of the guests caught the mishap, assumed it was open seating, and seated themselves for a lovely reception.

Morning Workouts

This is me working out in the morning.

5:30 AM - Alarm clock - "This is terrible make it stop"

6:30 AM - Commence workout - "Let's get this over with"

7:00 AM - Mid-workout - "OK, OK, not so bad"

7:30 AM - End workout - "This is great - I have the whole rest of they day ahead of me, will be at work early, can do whatever I want tonight"

8:30 AM - Arrive at work - "I'm invincible and better than anyone who has not worked out yet"

8:45 AM - Indulge in large breakfast(s) - "Got my reps in. I can eat as much as I want, bitches"

9:30 AM - Chugging coffee - "Oh, God I'm exhausted"

2:00 PM - Still chugging coffee, nodding off at desk - "Kill me"

Client Courtships

Client service is a hilarious job. Sure, account directors, supervisors and friends offer strategic direction, diligently manage projects and maintain client budgets. But their primary role is to do everything possible to please their clients. As a result, client relationships become easily comparable to dating or romantic relationships.

Allow me to illustrate. Below are vignettes that might occur in an ordinary day in client service, only inner monologues shall begin with “Dear Diary.”

Budding Relationship

Dear Diary – I feel really energized after grabbing lunch with [client name]. There are so many possibilities and we could really do great things together. Plus, I can’t wait to add him to my book and flash him in front of my friends - It will be great for my reputation! Maybe I can find a way to get an invitation to that function he’ll be at next week…It would be a good excuse to see him again.

Phone call: “Hey, [client name]! It was so great to take time out and meet you for lunch yesterday. I am really excited about the great conversation we had – It feels like we’re really aligned. So, I’m calling because the funniest thing happened. I just found out I will actually be at the same function next week – What a coincidence! If you’re up for it, we should grab a few drinks afterwards! My treat.

Trouble in Paradise

Dear Diary: I hope [client name] is in a good mood today. He’s seemed agitated lately and I don’t know why…I hope it’s not something I did. I’m sure it’s probably not, but maybe I should just call him and ask. But what if it IS me?

Phone call: “[Over-earnest] Good morning – Happy Monday! Listen…I just wanted to check in and see how things are going. Lately, we’ve been so busy that conversations have become shorter and more sparse.  I just want to make sure that you’re getting everything you need from me.  I just think it’s so important for our relationship that we communicate effectively. I want you to know that I am here for you whenever you need me.

On the Rocks

Dear Diary – I’m so sick of fighting about money. He was so mean to me yesterday...almost abusive, and threatened to cut me off entirely! What a jerk. I know that we’re on a budget, but he just has to understand that not everything can be as black and white as he wants it to be.  I just am amazed that he thinks I’m spending so haphazardly. I’m certainly not asking him to splurge, but I refuse to show up with trash – It reflects on me, after all. I have standards.

Phone call: “Hello, [client name].  I’d like to take a few minutes and talk about what happened yesterday. I very much understand that we’re working from a tight budget, and I think it’s healthy for us to talk about it. But, I think would be best if we had sensitive financial conversations in more discreet settings.  I didn’t appreciate you tone yesterday or the way you were aggressive towards me in front of the group. That won’t help us solve anything

I could go on, but I believe I've proved my point. For an alternative perspective on agency-client relationships, check out this video:

Last Will and Testament of Christine E Berka

In the event of an untimely death related to reckless or destructive activity, the testator has dictated the following:

Apportionment

To my mother, Sue, I leave all of the clothes and shoes that I bought for you so I could later steal them and hoard them in my closet.

To my father, John, I leave my keys, my wallet, my phone, my sunglasses, etc., assuming I haven’t lost them somewhere due to your poor genetics and behavioral influence.

To my brother, Scott, I leave my dignity and self-respect, because it is right to give to those in need.

To my brother, Kevin, I leave my brains, because it is right to give to those in need.

Honored Requests

Bailee Obrien, per your request, I leave you my liver. I cannot attest to the health, per se, but the working condition is flawless. At least for a couple of more years…

Chris Strupek shall receive 1 pair of handcuffs, fishnet tights and a “cutie convict” garter located in a plastic bag in my closet. Ask no questions.

My electric blue pumps in all of their awesomeness shall go to Mike Freimann because he called dibs. As a result, I also leave him at least a handful of people beating down the door for them.

Funeral/Burial Arrangements

Testator requests an open-bar service devoid of any religious activity other than her own canonization.

Deceased is to be buried with her Nine West shoe collection, Lou Malnati’s gift cards, a bottle of tequila, and a pack of sugar free Red Bull.

Types of Crying

True or false: You want to give every person you see crying a big hug?

If you chose “True,” you’re a dirty liar. But don’t feel bad—We’ve all experienced the urge to slap some sense in to some sense into a crying figure, we just feel guilty expressing it. But why? Are they ugly criers? Is there something in their tone? Do I see a hint of drool? Or maybe we’re just assholes.

Allow me to put that last statement to rest. They are many different forms of crying. With the assistance of some coworkers, I’ve created this chart that illustrates types of crying across two factors: Pathetic-ness and Sympathy Elicited. Overall, we determined that the best types of crying maximize sympathy elicited, while minimizing levels of pathetic-ness. Take a look, and maybe you’ll understand why that blubbering idiot just didn’t tug at your heartstrings.

Legend

Blubbering: Unattractive, loud crying. Characterized by mutters, truncated, erratic breathing, clinched facial expressions and hunched posture.

Hyperventilate-Crying: Forceful crying causing heavy breathing, resulting in the inability to speak or produce sounds even resembling words.

Scream-Crying: Violent crying accompanied with bouts of yelling or sometimes shrieking. May also include slapping, punching or other physical expressions of distress.

Silent Tears: Soft, inaudible crying that does not draw attention; May manifest only in a single tear rolling down one’s cheek.

Sobbing: Heavy crying with a large volume tears flowing steadily; Generally audible but not inappropriately loud.

Sniveling: Audible, but soft crying, also prone to muttering and erratic breathing; May also show signs of drool or mucus.

Weeping: A gentler version of sobbing; Involves soft, steady stream of tears with some times lightly audible signs of distress.

Whimpering: Soft crying usually including few or no tears at all; Often incorporates muttering and/or high-pitched sighs.

The Jew, The Hindu, and The Blonde

About a year ago, two of my friends (really friend-acquaintances at the time, who both worked for the same massive corporation) and I had like revelations: We’re each 23, living alone in the armpit of America (central, IL). It was conservative, “family-oriented,” and it sucked. Hard.

We inventoried what we knew about each other:

• Generally cool-enough people with whom to strike work friendships.
• University of Illinois graduates (Read: Effing brilliant)
• Geoff’s Jewish, Ujjval’s Hindu, Christy’s Blonde (sometimes with a capital “B”).

With perhaps a bit of a dice roll, we put our money on 7 and entered into a hilarious living arrangement.  Was it a sitcom, it would be some awesome fusion of The Bing Bang Theory, Three’s Company and The Office.

The pilot episode of The Jew, The Hindu, and The Blonde opens back when the Odd Trio decides to live together and signs a lease to their big new apartment.  Geoff and Christy con Ujjval, without Ujjval’s awareness, into occupying what is clearly the worst room.  Ujj remains indifferent when we decide to point out our coup.

Cut to the three of us chatting on the giant basement sectional, taking in the new scenery and cue Geoff’s actual quote, “Hey guys—You know how when you put a goldfish in a big tank, it gets bigger? Think that will be like us and friends?”

True to the tenor of the pilot and tone of the title, the ensuing Emmy-winning season would follow the threesome building a motley crew of friends and engaging in plenty of random hilarity.  And it would, of course, be sprinkled with derogatory slurs wrapped in impressive rhetoric. 

The Jew, The Hindu and The Blonde, Season 1 episode titles (all from true events):

• The one where Berka bakes, and why it’s important to be cognizant of who you are telling to jump into an oven.

• The one with all things “Ujjvallian,” and why a Marvel Comics poster and a futon fit so harmoniously in an otherwise barren room.

• The one where Geoff defiles Berka’s cube to remove Cubs paraphernalia, and why childish Cardinals fans should be mindful of who knows where they sleep. 

• The one where Berka eats an entire tub of cookie dough before Ujjval has a chance to bake any, and why Indians suck at booby-traps.

• The one with the Little Blonde Buddha and why it’s much easier to give rather than follow sound relationship advice.

• The one where Ujjval disses TBS, and why you can get away with saying things like that when you’re brown.

• The one with all the domestic violence and why Berka’s nickname is Mike (Tyson).

• The one with the Pajama Party, and why matching footie pajamas are a staple of every wardrobe.

• The one with all the work-email banter, and why you should always be concerned about records retention and the “forward” button.

• The one where the Blonde goes Ginger, and why Jewish people’s opinions never matter.

• The one with the argument scoreboard, and why earnest chauvinism never wins a point.

• The one with the Vegas Bombs, Buttery White Russians, and how only Indians are adept at intoxicating otherwise heavy-drinking blondes. 

• The one with all the glamor muscles, and why roommates who never wear shirts are exiled to the dungeon. 

• The one with the musical sing-a-long, obvious Aladdin typecasting, and why Geoff is a terrible tenor.

• The one where Geoff and Ujjval participated in the same focus group, and why loose interpretation of the term “focus” is critical.

• The one with all the animal nicknames, and why pandas are always down to party.

• The one with all the Thirsty Thursdays, and why Friday mornings were never more regrettable.

• The one with random jars of unpronounceable spices, and why eavesdropping on half-Hindi conversations is pointless.

• The one with the SnowtoriousBIG, shovels, and how Ujjval learned the hard way that Bailey’s should always be kept in-stock.

• The one with all the pizza, and why you should never underestimate the eating ability of former-fat-girls.

• The one where loud-mouthed Jews make the best pitchers, and why vying for the win in work co-rec softball always leads to disappointment.

 

The Season 1 finale ends with a twist where the Blonde, being the least-likely suspect of the trio to leave central Illinois first, accepts an unexpected job offer in Chicago, gives two-weeks notice and packs her bags.  In order to engage in a lively send-off week of heavy drinking after a speeding ticket robs her of identification, she has her mother (who makes habit out of enabling her delinquent children) overnight her passport.  Identification problem solved, the fun week ends with a bittersweet goodbye.

The three acclaimed actors can’t be too sad, though.  They already know their contracts have been renewed for a second season, which is sure to bring more commutes, quarter-life crises and culture clashes.  At the risk of a wishful spoiler alert, maybe the Season 2 finale finds Jack, Janet and Chrissie in the same location, or dare I suggest the same apartment, again.

And because I know you’re wondering: Geoff is definitely Chrissie. Is Suzanne Somers Jewish? Irrelevant. I’m pretty sure he’s got a Thigh Master.

To Geoffrey and Ujjval—I will miss living with you guys.

Much love,

Christopher Robin; Little Blonde Buddha; Hamster

Defective Face Girl

My defective face was best summarized by my physical therapist who, while twisting my entire lower mandible away from my skull, said: “Since you are bad at telling me when this becomes too painful, I just look for the vein to pop in your forehead.”  It was more humorously summarized by my older brother years earlier in the song he composed just for me titled, “Defective Face Girl.”  I can’t remember the lyrics exactly, but it went something like:

I know a girl and she has a face and it’s DEFECTIVE

She tries really hard but it still doesn’t work ‘cause it’s DEFECTIVE!

Defective Face Girl!

Defective Face Girl!

He would occasionally ditch his guitar mid-chorus to perform a wonderfully ridiculous dance (if you could call it that.)  And the verses went on, for some reason to the tune of the Batman theme song, covering with detail the two reasons for my facial inferiority.

1.     The giant unsightly vein in the middle of my forehead. 

It’s not present all of the time—only during laughter, embarrassment, anger or any other event causing my body temperature to otherwise raise above 98.6 degrees.  If you’d like to see it and haven’t, you could probably just try pointing it out and proceed with mockery, like my brother. He’d advise you duck or run immediately after.

To cope with residual emotional scarring and insecurity, I keep a running list of successful and/or attractive famous people in the fraternity of forehead veins. Some of them include:

• Heather Graham
• Rachel McAdams
• Julia Roberts
• Angelina Jolie
• Tom Cruise
• Robert Pattinson
• Conan O’Brien

You know the other thing, guys? I’m really, really smart. Damn brilliant, even.  If you were as smart as me, you would need an inordinate amount of blood flow to power your extremely high brain functioning too. I bet if we go back in time, we’d find massive veins in the foreheads of Einstein, Da Vinci, Picasso, Michaelangeo, etc. Socrates and Aristotle each had three forehead veins. Fact. Look it up.

I’ll refrain from continuing so as not to appear overly insecure or desperate…If it’s not already too late…

2.     My malfunctioning jaw.

First of all, an education for all of those who say to me, “Oh, you mean like you have TMJ? Me too—My jaw pops sometimes.”

Friends, TMJ is only an acronym for the temporomandibular joint, itself.  So your empathy, while well intended, is actually like saying to someone who just tore an ACL, “Oh, yeah—I have an ACL too. It’s terrible.”  TMD, is the generic name assigned to any malfunction or problem with the bones, muscles or tissue surrounding the TMJ.   Though generic jaw popping and clicking do fall into this category, so do things like joint dislocation, immobility, deviation and osteoarthritis (my TMD). 

The good news is that the TMD has allowed me to exercise my long-restrained oral/maxillofacial surgeon fetish.  I just can’t get enough of them.  I also prefer to challenge myself with the high-class surgeons—Four Northwestern face doctors each wielded four different surgery recommendations, and four reactions of disbelief that I’ve never suffered from severe head trauma upon reviewing my x-rays.  But after years of medical promiscuity, I’ve decided to settle down with Dr. Four and begin battling insurance companies for surgery looming in my uncomfortably near future.

As an added bonus, surgery will also allow me to reclaim a post-operative spark with my physical therapist.  “What’s physical therapy for the jaw entail?” everyone asks. (Insert eyebrow raise or long pause here…Perhaps some inappropriate joke about choosing the wrong career path.)  Actually, it really sucks (Pun intended).  As I opened this post with, it is a painful hour of pulling, pushing, twisting and otherwise abusing my jaw to try to prevent my entire lower mandible from shifting to the right, disfiguring my face, and inhibiting rather unnecessary activities like talking or eating.

My jaw saga continues, with no pity party intended—I merely find myself recounting or referring to it often, so thought I’d post it here.  The real bonus is that I bet I can effectively convince my surgeon to just nip my forehead vein while he’s in there.  I mean, it can’t be an important one, right? Surely not…

Rules of Using Social Media and Staying Employed

Having worked in social media for a large, conservative corporation, mixing work and play was inevitable, and initially terrifying.  It didn’t take long to make the leap to friend and follow coworkers, and I’ve quite enjoyed combining personal and work worlds in a single network. My self-imposed rules of the road have managed to keep me employed…for now. For what they’re worth, here you go:

• Be the friend-ee, not the friend-er: In theory, coworkers can’t be mad or offended when they ask for an opening into your personal life. That doesn’t mean you have to accept them all and certainly doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t…

• Love your privacy settings: Limited profiles and friend groups allow you (without having to do something dumb like use First Name, Middle Name nomenclature) to do things like hide beer pong and pole dancing photos from select groups of people …Not that I know from experience…That said…

• Keep it PG-13: Technically, Facebook does not allow users under the age of 13.  And if ABC Family gets to air Secret Life of The American Teen, I get to use a few four-letter words and talk about drinking. It’s just science, and helps keep reigns on offensive content. And when mockery and offending is necessary…

• Discriminate indiscriminately: No one can take it personally if you make it a goal to offend everyone.  And no one can argue with witty digs on stupid people who deserve it. But remember to...

• Discriminate against yourself the most: Everyone appreciates a little self-deprecation, and you only have yourself to offend. But when you must rip on people you work with…

• Attack your boss to their face: The walls of social media are like cube walls, not offices. For any coworker really, if you wouldn’t say it to their face, don’t say it at all, even if you’re not connected via social networks.  For example, I tell @KellyThul how much I loathe him on Twitter and Facebook directly, because talking behind people’s back is just rude.  Under these circumstances, however, it becomes very important to…

• Know when to shut up: I haven’t learned this yet, but I understand the concept—If you question whether or not to say it, don’t.  Also, if you have the urge to share super-secret business information, or boring confidential/proprietary material you should 1) Not and 2) Get a life.

Easy enough, right?

Introduction

I entered the University of Illinois intending to major in English and Secondary Education. I wanted to teach English to high schoolers—A noble cause, to be sure. Then, I switched to Elementary Education—An even nobler goal with a mission to instill the fundamentals of the art of writing in America’s youth. How cute, right?

Somewhere during the course of countless games of beer pong, flippy cup, circle of death, and crafting Everclear Jell-O shots in my dorm room as the floor’s resident adviser…I realized that I have no business being a role model.

Instead, I kept the English major and doubled, for kicks, in Communication to earn a full-fledged Bachelor of Arts in Bullshit.  This positioned me well to sell my soul and traipse into corporate America, where I quickly learned that I paid the University of Illinois tens of thousands of dollars to write bland business communications at an 8th grade reading level.

As an outlet to fuel my passion for writing and out of respect for the nagging complaints of my Facebook friends crying News Feed overload, I’ve started this blog.  Here, I intend to pour my sharp tongue for blunt humor in to subpar entries that no one will likely read.

Enjoy!

Anonymously,

Christy Berka