You are 100% Team Jen over Team Angie, and are intellectual in the way that you get the New Yorker delivered to your apartment, but never really read it (the stacks look really nice next to your candles). You read Lean In the month it came out, and secretly enjoy eating your salads at your desk. You went to a good school (but not an Ivy League), and are one of the few of your class to find a pretty good job, relatively close to your studies. You have a gym membership, and love yourself a good sangria.
The happiest moment of your life — or at least, the moment in which you feel most personally and spiritually actualized — is in those precious 30 seconds where the cocktail waitress in a bandage dress is bringing over your bottle of alcohol with the sparkler still burning brightly atop it. In that instant, with the sparkler fizzing and lighting your friends’ smiling, bronzer-smeared faces, everything is right in your world.
You have always been on the cutting-edge of Basic Bitch technology, the envy of every other girl in yoga pants and a Louis Vuitton bowling bag. In high school, you had (and loved) the hot pink Motorola Razr, but when the iPhone came out, you all but burned your Razr in your front yard. You frequently take pictures of plates of healthy food placed precariously on your tanned thighs, and tilt your head dramatically to the left when you take mirror selfies. You’re going to Bali on your honeymoon, even if you don’t know it yet.
You are white trash as shit. Dasani, are you serious? It's like the Faygo of bottled waters.
A step up from Dasani, to be sure, but still something you clearly got out of a vending machine because there was no other choice. Unless you have a tattoo of Tweety Bird somewhere on your body that matches your Tweety Bird car air freshener, in which case, you go out of your way for a good bottle of Aquafina.
You’re bougie, you eat brunch, you’ve been to Europe on multiple occasions, and you watch films with subtitles by choice. When you are not drinking Pellegrino, you can be found drinking Prosecco, smoking the occasional cigarette, and trying on high-waisted shorts.
You think you’re San Pellegrino, but you’re really the sad love child of Aquafina and VOSS. :(
You’re a middle school English teacher, you’re worked to the bone, and you don’t have time for this shit. You grab a Poland Spring out of your box of 100 of them, and you get on with your life.
Nalgene with carabiner
You have recognized yourself in more Portlandia skits than you’d like to admit, and you still haven’t caught onto the idea that people at parties don’t want to hear about your life-changing hikes. You post vaguely conspiracy theory-esque articles about harmful chemicals in our food from websites like speakthevegantruth.net. On at least one occasion, you have asked someone why you can’t wear flip flops to a wedding. You are either named Caleb, or have had sex with someone named Caleb.