Not That Kind of Happy Ending

This post is late. For so many reasons. We haven’t posted at all this week yet. And it’s Thursday. Also – spoiler alert – it’s sort of about a TV show that premiered last night and every other media outlet in the world already covered it. I was supposed to write this post last night but then I somehow wound up walking from Hollywood and Cherokee to Sunset and Vine in five-inch booties. Now I have a blister the size of my palm on the bottom of my foot. Do not recommend walking in Los Angeles. Ever. And an hour ago when I signed on to G-chat to let Ellyn know I’d be blogging, we wound up talking about all the unhappy things that have happened in our lives (see emotionally unavailable parents, corporate burnouts, anxiety disorders) and how we firmly believe all those things will ultimately lead us to happier lives… which brings me to the blog subject at hand: happy endings.

Specifically, brand new relationship slash ensemble comedy Happy Endings, Wednesdays on ABC at 10|9c. Full disclosure: I’m a longstanding admirer of some of the show’s creators and star Eliza Coupe. If you don’t follow her Twitter, do it now. You won’t regret it, I swear. Have I ever steered you wrong? In any case, we don’t often blog about television. It’s possibly the one topic Ellyn and I genuinely disagree on. The only show we both love — and when I say “love” I really mean “treat as if it were god itself” — is Friends. But we tried to write a scorecard style post on Cougar Town, Mr. Sunshine, and Episodes and well… Ellyn had nothing to say. About any of them. So here I am, blogging alone, praying that when I finally convince Ellyn to watch Happy Endings it will hit that Friends spot and she’ll want to write about TV again.
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In Defense of Phillies Fans

First of all, let me just say how excited I am that baseball is back. And that Cliff Lee is back in Philadelphia.

Second of all, screw you, GQ. I get that Phillies fans are intense, vicious even. We love our baseball more than anybody else in the country. And I assumed, as soon as I saw the headline “We Name The Most Obnoxious Sports Fans in America” that Philadelphia would be at the top of the list. But you took it a step too far when you claimed that “Philadelphia stadiums house the most monstrous collection of humanity outside of the federal penal system.”

That’s just low. And rude. And stupid. And exactly the kind of comment that makes phans like me ten times more primal than before.

Forget — as you were quick to point out — that Raiders fans, actual gangbangers, regularly violate parole to attend games. Or that the number of “die-hard” Red Sox fans has tripled since they won the World Series six years ago. No, I’m not even going to bother with the whole “other cities are just as bad” or “the world just likes to pick on us” argument.
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Now and Then

So while we were off busy paying bills and doing other gross, responsible adult stuff (cough, sitting on the beach, cough, driving through wine country), we got to thinking. Specifically, about where we thought we’d be ten years ago today. And how different those thoughts are from reality.

Ten years ago today, Miriam was sure she’d marry her high school boyfriend. So sure that I told myself even though the world said I was sixteen and couldn’t possibly know, I insisted the world was wrong. Thank god the world was right. Not that my high school boyfriend wasn’t a sweetheart, because he was, he just wasn’t my sweetheart.

And while I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with my life, I knew it would have to be something good for people, and that I would be in charge. In this so far I have failed. I burned through one career so fast I was actually in charge of something and then quit all before the ripe age of twenty-five. Now I’m trying to be a writer, whatever that means, so basically I’m just in quarter-life career crisis. Who knew there were so many things to feel crappy about before your forties?
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Be Back After Spring Break…

We won’t be posting this week, so you can stop compulsively checking back. So upsetting, we know, and we’re very sorry. What’s our excuse this time? Let’s just say we’re on Spring Break. Not that kind of Spring Break. Remember, we’re old ladies, and we won’t be posting any videos of JFKLAX girls gone wild. However, we will be back next week with some very entertaining and riveting posts.

Ellyn and Miriam
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The Worst Ever Must-Read Fashion, Sex, and Dating Tips

We actually get our news from Twitter these days – but generally speaking, we don’t read magazines. Miriam subscribes to exactly two: GQ and Los Angeles Magazine, mainly because she likes the features and typically learns a thing or two about food and wine each time she reads. She buys gossip rags at the airport and finds the occasional Lucky pickup handy when browsing for clothes.

Ellyn gets free magazines at work because she’s a media planner, but they’re mostly finance-related (yawn). She reads The Week (for the crossword), The New Yorker and Whole Living (yeah, it’s Martha Stewart. Don’t judge.)

But we never read women’s magazines. We find the features stiff, the writers pigeon-holed… and the relationship advice? Not to tout JFKLAX too much, but let’s just say, we do a better job. So what better way to end the week than make fun of some lady mag tips?

For this very important project, we picked up a Marie Claire, Glamour, and Cosmo. Continue reading

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Please Help Me Not Kill My Boyfriend, He's Making Me Y-A-W-N

Dear Ellyn,

Bryan tells a lot of bad jokes. He also tells a lot of good jokes. But the problem is he tells them to me, and then he tells them to our friends we meet for dinner, and then our friends we meet for drinks. And then he tells them all again to some other randoms two weeks later. Basically, I’ve lost the ability to laugh and now I’m insulting him.

Complicated in love,

Dear Miriam,

Shaun needs to watch TV in order to fall asleep, but I can’t fall asleep until the TV is already off. I’d tell him to watch TV in the living room, but then he spends the night out there, which I hate even more. Why can’t he just be normal and read before bed instead?

Thinking of slipping him a sleeping pill at dinner,
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On Being Lame and Coupled Off

The other night Ellyn’s single friend accidentally sent her a text meant for another, single girl. It said: “All my lame ass coupled off friends went home. What’s up.” (She was one of the coupled off friends that had just gone home.)


We get it. After all, Miriam and Bryan ditched their friends last night at the early hour of midnight. Granted they were at a gay bar and had to drive home… but what is it about being in a couple that kills your going out mojo? JFKLAX examines.

Ellyn: Saturday was Hoboken St. Patrick’s Day. Some say it’s as exciting as Christmas morning and the best day of the year. I say it’s the worst, my personal hell. I avoided Hoboken like the plague and spent the day in Manhattan. The drunk people on the train in stupid green hats with shamrock tattoos made me nauseous.
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Please Help Me Not Kill My Boyfriend While He's Busy Competing

Dear Ellyn,

Bryan has a disturbing competitive streak. The last time we played Taboo, he actually criticized my guessing style. Multiple times. And every time we go bowling I get nervous he won’t bowl well and get all sad and moody. When he’s not giving me overly detailed bowling tips, that is. I want to be adventurous and try new things but I fear anything involving some kind of score. Help.

Sometimes a girl just wants to have fun,

Dear Miriam,

Shaun and I used to go home together after work on the subway. It’s a forty-minute commute, so it was our time to decompress and talk about the day. But now he stays at work for an extra half hour or more almost every night to play foosball against coworkers. First of all, dork. Second, he sees these people all day long. We only have about five hours before bedtime. Should I be offended that he wants to spend that time away from me?

Home alone and sulking,
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Screw The Traffic, Driving Sucks

Most Angelenos will tell you that while, yes, they hate the horrendous traffic, they do love driving. Now I know I’m still relatively new here, but let me be absolutely clear — I despise driving. Abhor it. With way more venom than I will ever hate the traffic.

Driving sucks. There is this myth, especially when you live in New York, that driving will take all your troubles away. That you won’t have to pay for cabs, or rub inappropriate parts with randoms. In fact, right before I left New York I saw some hipster chick on the L train wearing feather earrings and I thanked the lord I would no longer have to look at anyone remotely like her on a daily basis unless I wanted to (which, for the record, I don’t). Big mistake.

Because as if driving itself didn’t blow hard enough, owning a car is maybe ten times worse. I bought my first car, thank you very much. It’s a hybrid. We call it the “datsmobile.” Guess what? It’s been banged up by valet attendants. They did not own up it to it. It’s been banged up because I have this ridiculously small parking space and the girls next door always park halfway over the line and parking is rough. Don’t judge. You try it.
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In Which We Lament the Oscars and Confess Our Love for Star Wars

Ever since we were little girls, we’ve loved the Oscars. The glitz, the glamor… actually we’re not really sure why we adore them so, but we do. Which is why this year we’re especially disappointed. Because everything about the ceremony–from the red carpet to the weird-ass hosting sitch to purple preggers Natalie Portman–SUCKED.

Herewith, the inaugural JFKLAX Oscar Showdown…

Busy Phillips

Ellyn: I’m surprised these women don’t pass out from hunger. They all look so starved. I feel tired watching them. Or maybe I’m just hungry and don’t have any food in the house.

Miriam: Why does everyone look so awful? The only dress I really like so far is Busy Phillips, and she’s just Michelle Williams’ date, and the only reason I know about her dress is because I follow her on Twitter. Lame. Also random — Cheryl Hines. Not sure why she was there or why I saw her dress but I liked it.

Cate Blanchett

Ellyn: You couldn’t pay me enough to wear ScarJo’s maroon lace doily. Or Nicole Kidman’s table runner or Cate Blanchett’s bizarre “Mirror, Mirror on the Wall” get-up. I like Mandy Moore, mainly because I love glitter, but why is she there either?

Miriam: Sorry, but eww. I do love how smokin’ Penelope Cruz is post-baby. Which is saying something. And it’s cute Spielberg brought his daughter. Still, not to beat a dead horse, but I wish Michelle Williams would stop wearing nightgowns everywhere. I want to like her. Really.

Ellyn: Yeah, I miss that simple yellow Vera Wang dress she rocked during the Brokeback Mountain era.
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