For posterity, “this week’s” question is more like July 19th’s question— I’M A LITTLE BEHIND. We moved, and I spent most of August sitting on the floor surrounded by shit and crying.
As far as moves go, everything that could go wrong did! But also, it was worth it. To answer this week’s question, we’ll take a walking tour through five things I’ve ranked as worth it or not.
The Olympics
I love that they bring the world together for two weeks every four years and rally a sense of solidified camaraderie in a country that spends most of its time sleeping on separate sides of an air mattress.
What could make them better:
Savannah Gutherie = out. I don’t know what you would call this. I was going to guess a midlife crisis, but aren’t those usually treated with corvettes and not hair bows? When turning on the Olympics, most people look forward to watching the games. Not a 52-year-old woman making heart hands every five minutes in her daughter’s clothing. Working at Claire’s and working as an NBC anchor are two separate and respectable jobs with two separate wardrobes; choose one.
Athletes get a two-week paid vacation at a five-star hotel. They make sacrifices, from what they eat to where they live, to represent the USA, i.e., the rest of us watching from Chili’s Bar & Grill. Also, the Olympic Village is furnished with cardboard beds. These people deserve a fucking break.
Spafinder gift cards will be awarded to all athlete/coach duos still on speaking terms by the closing ceremony.
I have no problem with gym trainers telling me to pick up the pace, mostly because I don’t listen. I’ve always viewed this type of feedback as suggestive, so I am bewildered by the fusion of the athlete-coach dynamic.
I think it’s essential to have people who understand our goals and maybe even see past them because they believe in our potential. Take Kristy, a manager at my first job, Chi-Chi’s. Kristy loved telling us how to get ahead and would usually do this with a Virginia Slims between her lips while counting cash at closing. The wisdom she imparted while balancing a drawer of money spanned from managing acid reflux to hiring divorce attorneys (I was sixteen). Most of it wasn’t applicable, BUT SHE BELIEVED IN US. While she never lifted a tray herself, she maximized our loads because “Aren’t you guys here to make money???” Kristy was always thinking of us.
Some of the coaches are even the athlete’s parents. Could you imagine taking floor routine advice from your Father? Doing anything on day two of my period besides laying around watching Love is Blind Sweden, UK, Brazil, and Japan is a no. Forget wearing a leotard in public with my Dad on the sideline criticizing me. The fact that ANY of these relationships still exist by the closing ceremony deserves a fucking medal. I haven’t spoken to half my family in years, and it didn’t take competing in the women’s 500m to achieve that.
Celine Dion stays, the red carpet goes.
I know people spiraled over the opening ceremony, but that’s to be expected when you feature drag queens during a scene many perceived as a parody of Leonardo da Vinci's "Last Supper." I loved it. Then again, my idea of a good time is anything that challenges the mental capacity of people who “don’t believe" in dinosaurs.
Also—after fifty-seven opening ceremonies, what options are left? It’s like the The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants jeans. Everyone’s seen them and has started to question your decisions. Sometimes, you have to take risks to be original. I’m with Paris on this one— put that shit in the dumpster and start over.
As for the red carpet/why are they here/ celebrity step-and-repeat— it was unnecessary. The biggest challenge for event planners these days must be preventing John Legend and Chrissy Teigen from coming to their events. Chrissy discussed why she went with a pantless look. Many people in West Virginia, New Hampshire, Indiana, the United States, Ghana, Ireland, Botswana, and Uzbekistan did not care. Many people who aren’t named John Legend did not care. John Legend didn’t care. No one cared.
Ralph Lauren = out.
Allegedly, this contract’s up in 2028. But seeing how they literally don’t care, maybe this can be expedited. While assigning roles of unimpeachable power to straight white men is what this country’s all about, it’s getting a little out of hand.
I don’t think RL would even care. I’m not sure they remember that they dress the Olympians. It feels like they assigned this to underpaid interns working four jobs to pay rent, so they just made everyone mechanics.
Overall, Paris did a great job. Aside from Jordan Chiles being stripped of her bronze medal (which was bullshit), there was no major drama. Truthfully, I wish they’d rethink LA as the location of the next summer games. It’s going to be a fucking mess.
Is it worth it: Maybe?
Florida
I lived in Florida for four years, split between Boca Raton and Delray Beach. Not a lifetime, but long enough for my mental stability and faith in humanity to take a nose-dive. Moving there was never the final stop. It wasn’t even charted as a detour, but, you know, sometimes our cars break down—and not like our literal cars, but our cars of life, our paths—or, as my Shaman in 2011 said, “our journey.”
“Welcome to Boca Raton, the world’s longest strip mall.”
I find it fascinating that Boca is presumed to be an upscale community. Often, when I’d tell people I lived there, their mouths would pucker, and eyebrows would lift in that “Wow, I didn’t realize non-profits paid that well” kind of disbelief.
Honestly, nothing about Florida felt upscale; it felt sweaty. If an ongoing row of liquor stores, med spas, and Pollo Locos is your thing, look no further. Beyond the grid-like landscape, I was hard-pressed to find people I wanted to spend time with and things to do. I found a few gems of both, so it’s not impossible, but be prepared to mostly sit around your house reading People magazine while occasionally glancing out the window and muttering, “What’s that asshole doing?” in regards to your neighbor.
In South Florida, or, as the chads call it, “SOFL,” most people don’t hold doors or say thank you because most people are seasonal, and the rest are transplants. I’m not a graduate of urban planning, but I feel like this might contribute to the lack of respect for each other and the community. Without generational ties or extended family around, people behave like assholes. Why find a trash can when you can throw your empty vape cartridge out the window?
1% of Boca’s population occupies the mansions along the A1A. The remaining 98% live in apartments and condos. Despite this, there’s an overwhelming sense of elitism, which I never understood. I was never in denial about living in an apartment built in the 1700s. Instead of hiring an electrician to remove the landline jack from the wall, I bought a phone to connect to it.
Oddly, most people in these areas believe they were the only ones to “Move 3,500 miles from (insert wherever).” Whether their brave and unique decision to move to Florida was pre or post-Covid, it doesn’t matter. You’ll get your fill of entitled storytellers on both sides of the pandemic. During small exchanges or introductions, there’s an underlying feeling of one-upmanship. As though living there the longest is a sign of intelligence and not underdevelopment. Explaining where you’re from and why you’re there was exhausting. Especially when you never wanted to be there in the first place and didn’t know who you’d offend by admitting that. I honestly just started telling people I was lost.
“Welcome to Delray Beach, where diversity is rampant if you think the cast of Real Housewives of New Jersey is diverse.”
I don’t know if I could pick just one thing to symbolize Delray. There are so many. The moke carts, gentrification, absolute unhinged behavior. A residual reminder that Delray is the rehab capital of the country—and that a lot of times, rehab doesn’t work out.
As much as I disliked living there, I knew this could not be how most people felt. All it would take was a little positive thinking, and I’d come around. In fact, according to our building’s property manager, we lived in “one of Delray’s gems.” It wasn’t the two (separate) suicides or the physical fight accompanied by a gun threat at the pool during our tenancy that made it a gem. There was so much more to The Village by the Sea than that.
One thing that makes Delray so unique is its ongoing range of complex scents. You can be anywhere within a ten-mile radius of Atlantic Avenue to experience them. I once heard someone describe visiting India as “an assault on one’s senses,” I couldn’t help but wonder if they’d ever been to Delray.
I’ve never been anywhere that struggles so tragically with waste management. Aside from its trademark 24/7 smell of marinating onions, odors from sewage and dumpsters steeping in the 103-degree sun are present around the clock. Trash cans on every corner radiate the warm smell of rotting dairy, rancid pepperoni, and dog shit. How other municipalities have figured this out and not shared their secrets with Delray remains at the forefront of my concerns for the upcoming election. I don’t want to hear about illegals or taxing unrealized gains. I want to know when this country is going to give The Village by the Sea the same Streets and Sanitation Guide it gave to everyone else.
If style is your thing, come hungry. Delray is serving looks. Many people think Paris and Milan are the epicenters of high fashion, but I think that’s unfair. Delray is the workhorse that won’t quit. Forget feeling like a loser when you only get tickets to Donna Karan third row. Forget feeling like a loser when you aren’t invited to Loewe, period. You don’t have to fly international business class to find yourself at the white-hot center of a fashion clinic.
Village by the Sea Highlights:
Women Wearing Two-Piece Matching Bra & Pant Spandex Yoga Sets
These are always ALO when worn by Gen Z because, like their rent, their clothing is still paid for by their parents.
Lululemon when worn by Millenials.
Realtors/Social Media Managers/and Motivational Coaches have been giving TEMU the moment it fought for during its 2024 Super Bowl campaign. They can be spotted sitting around outdoor patios in front of dead-screened laptops during work hours.
Shop like a billionaire. Traditional Margaritaville attire on parade by Boomers, who are no longer just wearing the “It’s five o’clock somewhere” tank top, but fully committing to the brand and implementing the entire lifestyle. It’s no longer about a quarter-zip with a parrot slamming margaritas emblazoned, “No shirt, no shoes? NO PROBLEMS!” This is about ordering the furniture, footwear, pool floats, golf carts, and salsa. This is about booking the next family vacation on its cruise line.
Every white male from Jersey:
I wish I loved the year-round (because it is, in fact, year-round) soul-crushing humidity. I know some people think it’s the greatest. But my migraine and showers-per-day numbers are at an all-time low, and I feel a real sense of hope again.
For the first time in half a decade, I’m experiencing an actual fall. As in the season, or ANY season other than 93 degrees and 86% humidity. One where we sleep with the windows open and wear sweaters outdoors. Where the trees are changing color, and you no longer feel stuck inside an endless loop of strung-out time measured in Brightline deaths and dead roadside iguanas. Where we bake muffins for breakfast without wanting to jump off the balcony for turning the oven on.
I was starting to believe that life was just one long Atlantic Avenue filled with angry, sweaty tourists driving moke carts and fighting for tables at Señor Frogs. It turns out I forgot to set my alarm and had a bad dream for four years.
Is it worth it: Drunken parrot-themed clothing aside, I cannot get over the fury. A palpable rage runs through the entire state like an electric current strong enough to jump-start a dead cybertruck. No.
Rewatching Big Little Lies
Like everyone else in 2017, I was obsessed. You were blocked if you called or texted my phone on Sunday nights between nine and ten pm. I never read Liane Moriarty’s book, so not only could I not be disappointed in the age-old adage of “it’s never as good as the book,” but I also had no idea where the plot was going. Bottom line: this show had everything. Murder. Views of Big Sur. Rich people fighting with each other. Nicole Kidman’s skin. It made me want to borrow a kid and move to Monterey so I could drink wine and join the PTA in hopes of befriending Zoe Kravitz and Reese Witherspoon. It had me contemplating yoga (who was I even?) Of course, I did none of those things, especially borrowing the kid— thank god. But that was the power of the show.
After finishing Presumed Innocent, all my streaming services have been going through a severe drought. Unlike J LO, shown here throwing herself a Bridgerton-themed 55th birthday party, I’m not a fan. Of Bridgerton or J LO. I’ve seen the trailer for the chimp documentary, but I’m still not over losing ten hours of my life to Tiger King in 2020, pandemic or not. (Did anyone else find it interesting that the top two tiger guys were polygamists orrr?)
This has created the perfect opportunity to revisit an absolute master class on screenwriting and acting. I don’t want to say I forgot how powerful and moving the show was, but I forgot how powerful and moving the show was. Nearly every episode has left me in tears, and not the Julia Roberts/Stepmom kind of tears, aka, the kind you’re obligated to cry unless you want everyone calling you an asshole for not thinking cancer is sad (that movie was so problematic.) But tears from taking in something that hits the center of your core so deeply it leaves no other choice.
The layers within each character and scene are, at times, overwhelming enough to review again and again. It’s nearly impossible to pick one moment from the rest, but the last ten minutes of S1, Episode 4 (Push Comes to Shove) had me on my knees. Whoever wrote this understood the trauma to its every last horrifying, nuanced, and life-changing detail, coupled with the fact that Shailene Woodley, as an actress, DID NOT COME TO PLAY.
You often hear of people having a deeper appreciation for a movie or series after rewatching it years later, but to say I have been blown away is an understatement. Was I even watching the same show in 2017/2019?
Is it worth it: Yes.
All The Colors Of The Dark
I inhaled this book, a life vest, while moving last month and temporarily living in a hotel. When every screen was giving me anxiety, it had me running to its pages for refuge. It’s multi-genre writing at its finest. Layers of heart-wrenching details following the lives of people affected by an abduction. I won’t give anything away. But just, UGH— you MUST.
Is it worth it: YES.
Kamala Harris
I don’t want to get lost in the details. We’ve made it way too complicated when it’s very simple.
There is no perfect candidate. But you better believe that my legacy (a carton of unsmoked Marlboros I’m saving for an end-of-the-world situation with permission to rip and seventeen Norwich Terriers) will acknowledge our relationship without shame because I stood on the right side of history.
Is it worth it: Yes.
This is brilliant 💜
Absolutely essential insights. Thank you for rescuing my day at 9:30am.