I obviously need to intern with Sheen to learn how to succeed. Also, OMG I used a lot of commas in this one.

I feel like I've been posting a lot about Facebook lately and even though I've only posted like twice about it, two can definitely be "a lot" if you're like me and you think things like, "When I say I want a lot of whiskey, I mean I want two bottles."  Two bottles is a lot of whiskey, you guys, unless you're an alcoholic and I'm not because I don't drink alone, except when I have good reasons, like not having an odd number of bottles in the house.  Symmetry is better for feng shui.  Probably.

Anyway, so my graduating class from high school has this Facebook group so that we can all keep in touch and have a splendid turnout for our 2013 reunion.  The problem is that much of what I remember about high school, I have tried to drink away in subsequent irresponsible college years and the following useless years of my twenties.  It's not that I hated high school or was bullied or picked on (that I can remember, anyway), but let's say for the sake of simplicity that I was a late blooming tomboy geek who hasn't really learned much since high school except that alcohol is delicious and having boobs is awesome.

So apparently, I'm supposed to show up to this shindig with a bunch of people who already knew me as a late blooming tomboy geek and stand there awkwardly when they ask me what it is that I do and I tell them that I'm a writer in my soul just because I don't think I'm really qualified to do anything other than that and then brace myself for the inevitable "Oh?  What have you written?  Have you published anything?" where I will stare at them blankly and drain my whiskey neat while they talk about their husbands/wives/careers/babies.  At this point, I'm already starting to envision an evening like in Zack and Miri Make A Porno and I'll probably end up hitting on one of the men I crushed on in high school and striking out again because he's secretly a gay porn star.  One can only hope.

I'd be much more apt to let all of this go and journey down that road of not giving a fuck what others may think of my "brand" of success if I wasn't already mid-crisis about everything right now.  We'll see where I end up in a year and a half, and if all else fails, I'll just show up topless and drunk because that is at least capitalizing on what I've learned in the years since high school, and life, my friends, is all about personal growth.

Whatever, idiot, this makes sense to me.

Fellow Nerd Friend:  Hey, TAB! Long time no see!  How're the fellas treating you?

Me:  Oh, just one fella these days, and pretty good.

FNF:  Wow, really?  So you have a new boyfriend?

Me:  No, I mean, not really.

FNF:  So just dating?

Me:  Well, sort of... I mean, we like each other and we hang out.  You know.

FNF:  I'm confused.  Let's say you have to quantify it in Facebook terms.  Are you guys an "it's complicated" thing?

Me:  Oh, goodness no!  It's not complicated!  That status is for scandalous college kids who don't want to admit that they're boning several people at once.  I mean, we both like each other, and his plans are kind of up in the air right now, and he knows I'm moving, so I think we're trying to keep it simple.  Not that we've talked about it, because it's like, still new and I don't think we *need* to talk about it yet.  I think we're both just trying to do this one day at a time and see how it goes.  We both agree that we don't want to over think it, though.

FNF:  So... are you guys dating other people?

Me:  Um, I don't think so.  I don't really know.

FNF:  Weren't you just telling me that you were ready for a long-term, serious commitment?

Me:  Right, yes.  Totally.

FNF:  ::eyebrows of skepticism::

Me:  Committing to non-commitment counts as something.

FNF:  So, it's complicated?!

Me:  I really hate both you and Facebook today.

Hey Ma, look! I'm all gradumacated! Part 2

In case you missed part 1 of my new advice series for grads, take a minute to catch yourself up and click here.

Ready? Swell. Let's continue.

BE PREPARED FOR THINGS! NOW THAT YOU'VE GRADUMACATED:

(That's right, little guy! Hooray for cake time!)

1. Everyone you know will get married. Seriously. I don't know what it is, but something happens to people when they graduate and all of a sudden, everyone you know is either getting married or having babies. I think it has to do with some kind of hormone release or maybe people think they're done maturing and growing up and can now settle down or maybe they're terrified because they just graduated and NOW WHAT?! I'm definitely not saying it's a bad thing, married people, I'm just warning you grads out there... it happens pretty quickly and even if you don't want to get married or you're happily single or whatever, you'll get what they call "wedding bell blues" which actually is a real thing! Diagnosed! (Maybe!) But only for girls, I think. I don't know if guys get it. (Guys: to clarify, girls with "wedding bell blues" is the emotional equivalent to "blue balls". You've been warned.)

2. Everyone you know will move away from you. This is probably the worst thing about graduating. All of your friends will move away and either go to grad school, Married-People-Land, or relocate for a job. The good thing about this nowadays is that with Facebook, iPhones (but seriously not one of the greatest 100 inventions) and Twitter, it's really easy to keep in touch with everyone. Just don't let social networking suck up all your time - remember it's equally important for you to get out there and make new friends; meeting new people in your new area will help you adjust. Trust me. I speak from experience when I tell you that sitting in your room alone with that bottle of Jack and pining for days past does NOT help in the long run. Now is the time to reinvent yourself! Be daring, and not a dbag.

3. For whatever reason, you will not party like you did in college. Maybe it's because your alcoholic friends live far away and partying via webcam is oddly creepy and unsettling, maybe you can't afford booze on your Starbucks salary, maybe because it feels different (and it will) but partying like you did in college loses its charm and feels... sad. Because it is. Learning how to have fun and socialize in new ways is just as important as finding a job, because crazy drunken behavior has consequences now. Welcome to responsibility! It blows! But you get used to it, and you learn to make it work for you. In short: don't get wasted at office happy hour... inevitably, someone senior to you will be sober and take note and then you might go from office to cubicle the next Monday.

4. Good news! You will begin to understand and appreciate the important things! It's not all bad news, dude. Really, I promise. Everyone talks about the transition from high school to college being a big one, but I think the transition years right after college are some of the hardest that you'll go through. With difficulties and trials, however, come experience and wisdom. Remarkably, you'll become much more aware of things that are important to you. Toxic friendships and mediocre relationships will fall away, and you'll be left with true friends and relationships worth maintaining. Maybe you'll reconnect with siblings or parents or friends from years ago, maybe you'll realize that person you were dating really *wasn't* right for you... whatever. Stepping out on your own is liberating because you have the opportunity to cut a lot of the bullshit out of your life and spend more time with the people and things that matter. It's so worth it.

5. You will suddenly care about really lame things. Such as: does your new job offer dental insurance as well as health? Did you budget enough money for gas and car insurance this month? Is it smarter to get a Costco card or clip coupons from the Sunday paper? What kind of vitamins should you be taking? Is there nutritional value in anything from Taco Bell? What kind of taxes does your company take out on your overtime pay? What kind of commute would you have if you got that apartment across town? Maybe you were concerned about these things before you graduated, maybe not. You will soon enough. It's like, "adulthood" or something.

Don't worry, though. It just means you don't have to worry about things like homework, finals and class projects anymore... if you ever worried about that to begin with. Probably not, but you get where I'm going. Now, take a deep breath and have a beer. We've done some important work here today.

How do I get myself in these situations?

Being a female music journalist often brings you to the limits of your sense of morals and ethics, because you are often confronted with very difficult choices. It can be difficult, on occasion, to present an interview or a review in a frank and unbiased manner when you canNOT stop thinking about how cute the guitar player is and if he fancies Guinness just as much as you do. Fortunately, I swore off dating musicians long ago and have never been so distracted by musician hotness that it has compromised my craft or my sense of journalistic ethics, but I do sometimes wander into "gray" area.

Earlier this year, J.R. and I interviewed an up-and-coming rock band composed of all beautiful, charming men. Since they happen to live a hop, skip, and a jump away from me, the interview of course progressed into the lot of us talking about meeting up and drinking together. This has not yet happened, but since it has been months since J.R. or I have written anything about this band, we feel that it is now within the realm of possibility to hang out with these beautiful, charming men in a not-so-professional capacity.

The other evening while procrastinating, I spent some time Facebook-chatting with one of the beautiful, charming men and proceeded to inquire about the lack of drinking happening between all of us. There was a lot of good-natured challenging and jokes, which seemed to degenerate into a really weird conversation:

TAB: Oh, hey! Did you see the pictures of MutualFriend's puppy? They melted my heart!

Hot Musician: No, I'd rather have an unmelted heart, thanks.

TAB: (Sends picture of cutest puppy) MELT, DAMN YOU!

Hot Musician: (Laughs at me) Okay, you're right. It's pretty cute.

TAB: HA! Now I will tell all your screaming female fans that I melted the heart of Hot "Freezer Burn" Musician with a picture of a puppy.

Hot Musician: Ha! That has got to be my new nickname!

TAB: Oh, I'm already using it, Freezer Burn. And do you realize how many amazing pick up lines I just gave you?

Hot Musician: So many.

TAB: So many. I have a burgeoning career as a wingwoman. You should pay me.

Hot Musician: Is that something you're proud of?

TAB: What, that I want money for my wit or that I have a career in the sidelines?

Hot Musician: That you have a career in the sidelines!

TAB: You know, I've spent more than my fair share in the dating game and here on the sidelines, I don't have to worry about my date's prison-mandated ankle bracelet, whether or not he's really married or if he's going to run away from me when I try to kiss him. The sidelines are fun, and have beer.

Hot Musician: (Laughing at me, yet again) Please tell me none of those have every happened to you.

TAB: Oh, Freezer Burn, all of those have happened to me.

After this, there was more joking followed by Hot Musician leaving mid-conversation. I am pretty sure that this does not really bode well for me, considering I would love to make out with Hot Musician and I unintentionally made myself look like a dating leper. J.R. and I still have plans to go out drinking with these fellows, but now I'm kind of unsure about it because they are like the cool kids in high school that always sort of tolerated me but never really found me irresistibly charming enough to ask to the dance... We'll see. If anything, at least there will be whiskey.

My Advice is Better Than Glamour's.

EM was flipping through Glamour last night and reading some of the listy-article bits that they classify as super important information for EVERY WOMAN! This information included anything and everything sexual that we all learned in middle school health, "diet" tips that common sense should dictate, and all kinds of things "your man" is "thinking" at any given time. I choose to not go into detail about *why* it is ridiculous for a masthead of predominantly female (I'm guessing) editors to deconstruct the complex male psyche. Glamour? Just stop. Let's all accept that men do NOT psychoanalyze why you wore that color shirt, because they are too busy thinking of 1. hot naked broads, 2. any kind of sandwich or red meat, 3. alcohol and getting drunk with their homies, and 4. some kind of hobby that most women don't give a rat's ass about, including but not limited to: sports, cars, what you *just* did in the bathroom, something nerdy with computers and/or something nerdy with tools.

Get ready for the obvious: men and women are different, so you should really stop trying to quantify their behavior in the same terms. If I want to know why an apple tastes like an apple, I'm not going to eat an orange to figure it out.

That doesn't make a whole lot of sense, but I imagine you get where I'm going.

Anyway, since Glamour sucks and really pissed me off with editors selling you bullshit information you ALREADY KNEW, I've decided to give you a list of things that you may not have known and can use at your discretion.

List of Things Glamour Probably Won't Publish:

1. There is a direct correlation between how whiny a man's vehicle is and how whiny he is. You can rev that crotch-rocket next to me in traffic all you want, but I know you're going to end up bitching to me about why you can't eat fried food anymore or how you want to have a "sit down" about "where the relationship is going." Beware, ladies.

2. Sluttiness is relative. Don't get all crazy Samantha Jones on me here, but there is a fine line between being a morally-loose skank face and not remembering if you made out with that guy in college. In short, don't be a skeeze (that goes for you, too, guys) but if you want to go out with that guy whose last name you just can't remember, consider this my blessing.

3. Alcohol may not help your immune system by killing germs, but if you want to get technical, neither do placebos and people get better with placebos all the time. I'm just throwing that out there for the next time you feel like an alcoholic wondering if that 2pm Jack and Coke is really gonna fix your sore throat. The answer is: yes.

4. It is a waste of time for you to feel guilty for the following things: sitting around in your pajamas all day long and then going to sleep in them again, eating anything fried, cheesy or sweet because unless you live on fiber pellets, there are a LOT of things that taste way better than thin feels, spending a lot of money on a bar tab, staying home and doing nothing instead of going out on a Sat. night, buying the $400 shoes with your tax refund instead of using it to pay off your credit card, flirting with the bartender so he'll pour you free drinks, screening calls when you're depressed and in the midst of a spectacular mope that you don't want anyone to interrupt.

5. The older you get, the more okay it is to be shallow. When you're young and naive and idealistic, you can afford to love based on personality (and maybe looks, if you're reeeally shallow) alone. When you get to a certain age, however, material things become a sign of maturity. For example, my rules are that in order to land a date, a man must possess: 1. a car, 2. an apartment or abode that is not his parent's basement, 3. a job, preferably of the legal variety. Tolerance varies with the male and location, (if you're in NY, obviously having a car isn't as important) but those are my stipulations. I don't care if you live in a dirty hovel above an Indian restaurant, drive a rusted bucket of bolts or work at McDonald's, but if you don't have the maturity or fortitude to possess those three things, you will not last long with me and I will eat you alive.

6. Even if you think you're cool (and I do), you are *just* as crazy as every other crazy broad. Don't try to fight nature, ladies. Accept that on some level, you can and WILL be *that girl* who will slash your philandering ex's tires, lie and say that you have chlamydia so that he has to get that painful STD test, slander him on Facebook and boil his rabbit. It's all in us. Everyone is someone's crazy ex. Accept it and learn to deal with it. And men? It's your job to accept that we're all that crazy. Learn to love it, because like your boob-staring-reflex, we cannot change it.

7. HE DOES NOT KNOW WHY YOU'RE MAD. Screw the silent treatment, tell him why he's being a dbag, accept the apology and move on. Do NOT bring it up later because you have MOVED ON.

8. It is entirely unnecessary to send more than one email or text to inquire if someone received your communication. Sending five emails about the same topic in one day and calling my office to ask, "Did you see my email? Did you get my text?" are superfluous. Yes, I saw it. I will answer you when I have time, and you only have to ask me once because I do not have the memory span of a goldfish.

9. 'Please' and 'thank you' still go a long way. So does snail mail. Getting an email will never be as cool as getting a letter.

10. Know when you need to stop dicking around and buckle down, and also know when to chill the fuck out. If you need help, spend some time in New York and then spend some time in California. Then, learn from the people around you and take the best of both worlds.

Glamour usually stops at 10 per list, I think. There you have it. 10 bits of advice that I think everyone should know. Some of it may seem like common sense, but whatever. Take it with a grain of salt, a wedge of lime and a shot of tequila.

TAB: Expert Bad Decision Maker.

Sometimes, My Friend With Great Hair comes into my office for little chats that will inevitably turn into long, depressing discussions about our parallel love lives. I usually end up bitching, whining and complaining about TOL and she ends up relating it to her last disaster relationship and by the end of a 5 minute, "Hey! How are you today?" conversation, it's like we're those two old guys at the bar crying in their beers about "the one that got away" - but much less awesome because 1. we are not guys, 2. we don't have beers in front of us, and 3. we are the ones the others were getting away from. (Suck it, grammar)

Yesterday, I mentioned to My Friend With Great Hair that I was considering the possibility of continuing to date eHarmony guy in an effort to get over TOL, and hedged the suggestion that maybe defriending TOL on Facebook (I'm not that connected, mostly...) was a bad life choice because now I just *wonder.* (I defriended TOL some time ago when I saw ambiguous, passive-aggressive status updates that may or may not be related to me and what we once were and it drove me closer to insane than I was before.)

"TAB," Friend With Great Hair said, "I don't think you're ready to Facebook him again. I think he still writes about you, and it won't help you get over him."

This, of course, sent me into girly panic mode like only patent leather heels and new nail polish and Guinness on sale can do. I wanted to know what he had said, and when, and if it was related to the last time I mistakenly texted him. Friend With Great Hair sighed, clearly convinced this would do me no good whatsoever, but she showed me the updates anyway.

From the day he texted me after I deleted his number and I responded with "who is this?" even though I already knew: something about how quickly one forgets or moves on or whatever passive aggressive nonsense he usually writes. Not only does this do me no good, but I can't tell if it *is* good.

"I think he's sad," Friend With Great Hair said because she's also a great friend. "I think he misses you."

This, in turn, made me sad. I caved and texted him. We ran our familiar emotional gamut going from happy to him being a dbag to me being pissed at him, and pissed at myself for caving and texting him. Now I'm irritated AND confused, which are scientifically proven to be excellent drinking conditions.

"You should come out with me," Friend With Great Hair said, implying that I should join her WeHo lesbifriends and have a "therapeutic" lesbian evening, instead of continuing to date eHarmony guy. I explained the situation to MEH at work this morning.

"Don't go crazy bi-chick on me," he bemoaned.

"I can't," I said. "I'm a testosterone junkie. Hey... :: lightbulb moment:: ...maybe that's why I date dbags."

"That's exactly it," MEH said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Isn't it disconcerting that I used to have an advice column?