Category Archives: Chick stuff

This post is strictly for the ladies

I am always reading articles and books and tweets and such about how I can Live My Best Life, particularly as a Woman in Business.

Via Memeguy

In particular, I love to learn about negotiating tactics and career development. I know not to be afraid to ask for what I deserve, but I get tripped up on this: the other side has to be open to hearing me.

There have been times when I have spoken clearly about what I am seeking, only to be labeled “aggressive” and “confident.” What he (and it’s always been a he) meant was “cocky” or “arrogant.” It was not a compliment, I felt sure.

Recently Ellen Pao, interim CEO of Reddit, announced that the company has eliminated salary negotiation from the hiring process in an effort to address the gender wage gap.

Acknowledging this is key. From Pao:

Men negotiate harder than women do and sometimes women get penalized when they do negotiate.

But part of me worries that this is akin to teaching women how to avoid being raped instead of telling men not to rape. Shouldn’t we all just learn that it’s normal to have women ask for what we’re worth?

What do you think?

Trying to become high maintenance and succeeding

After what felt like a long, un-fun week, I needed a weekend to recover.

How I felt this week. Via movieboozer.com

I’d post more about how hormones made me feel like a zombie with bad cramps, but I do hope to see a woman become President in my lifetime.

Continue reading

I bought it: Helmut Lang Magna “Sweatshirt”

It’s like I just knew that winter wasn’t about to end anytime soon.

In February, I was browsing in Bloomingdale’s SoHo when I found the coat.

Helmut 2Black, substantial-feeling like a varsity jacket, fur-lined hood and on sale. A big sale. Even less than the Final Sale price above.

“MINE,” I thought.

It’s called the Magna sweatshirt, but that’s a bit of a misnomer. This is no sweatshirt. It’s warm and luxurious and just right for this long-ass winter we’re having in NYC.

The Magna seems to be sold out, but Amazon has a similar Helmut Lang coat (and for about half the regular price).

What can I say? I love coats.

Why has The Bachelor been SO good this season?

If you had told me I would someday call Chris Soules‘ season must-see TV, I would have laughed in your face. I thought “Prince Farming” was more like Prince Snoring.*

But I’m hooked. Here we are in season 19 of The Bachelor/Bachelorette franchise and amazingly, ratings are way up.

I struggled to identify what has made this season so good. Fortunately Kristin Dos Santos investigated.

E OnlineNice work, everyone. Especially you, Millsy.

*Let’s face it: I watch every season.

 

Buy this for me

There’s a good chance that you, like me, follow Texts From Last Night on Twitter. After all, @TFLN has more than three million followers.

But did you know that they have their own gear inspired by said texts? Naturally I found something I want.

Braless

OK so maybe I’d only wear it at home. It would go great with this necklace.

 

Gratitude for the ones who got away

Incredibly embarrassing update below

Dan* and I met through my work-study job in college. My commitment to ten hours of weekly clerical work in the Registrar’s Office was the subject of much mirth among the full-timers and more reliable student works.

It was a 50/50 proposition if I would actually show up for my designated hours, they joked. “But I always call!” I would counter. Whether it was due to classwork, hangovers, my need for a nap or simply something more interesting arising, I called in with a lot of excuses.

For whatever reason, they tolerated me.

Dan appeared on one of the days late in my freshman year when I happened to show up. His mother was one of the bosses and when visiting from his own university, he would come to the office to help out. Dan was a volleyball-playing, ROTC-committed stud of a man. When he smiled, his eyes reminded me of Patrick Swayze (!). Tall and fit, solid, sturdy and friendly, I was immediately drawn to him.

Suck it Dan Continue reading