Why Massachusetts Is The Best

useyablinkah

I know that some folks say “west coast is the best coast” but if you’re a true Masshole, you know that “New England-ahs” are some of the coolest people you’ll ever meet.

We swear a lot. We drink ice coffee during snowstorms. And even though I’ve lived in LA for 12 years, I’ll always be a Masshole at heart.

A couple weeks ago, I headed back east to chill with my family and catch up with friends. When you visit your hometown after being away for so long, you start to remember why home is where the heart is:

Because hazelnut Dunks tastes better when there’s Red Sox on the cup.

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Because walkin’ around the “yahd” is quiet and peaceful.

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Boston

Because Mom’s a wicked good “gah-den-ah.”

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Because you feel guilty that you can’t even keep a cactus alive in Los Angeles.

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Because Mom’s created a zen-like deck for everyone to enjoy.

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Because getting work done in this environment = joyful.

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Because you get to see homies that you’ve been friends with since middle school (hi Doyz!) and you can’t believe how much you’ve both matured since the days of yesteryear, when all you did was cause trouble.

Doyz

Because it’s wonderful to see your peeps achieving these life milestones and you’re grateful to still be a part of it.

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Because 20 years later, I’m still jealous of Doyz’s beautiful teeth.

Doyz

Because Allie Cat is full of cattitude.

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Allie

Because Allie Cat likes to join the dinner table.

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Because Allie Cat enjoys box forts.

Allie

Because Lillie Cat has the biggest paws I’ve ever seen.

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Because Lillie Cat is 100% fluff.

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Because Lillie Cat is a mystical beauty.

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Because you and your rad pal (hi Matty!) try to look cool at a bar, but the dude on TV is throwing some shade.

Matty

Like, serious shade.

Shade

Because your bodacious buddy (hi Kelly!) has a precious itsy bitsy baby…and she’s so on point with motherhood that she and her son rock color-coordinated outfits.

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Because even Kelly’s baby is embarrassed at how bad you are at holding babies.

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#BabyFacePalm

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Because running in North Andover is so serene.

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Because running in North Andover means running without smog.

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Because running in North Andover means running without car horns or police sirens blaring in the background.

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Because you get lost running in North Andover and have to bust out the GPS .

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GPS

Because the North Andover GPS looks very different from your Los Angeles GPS.

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Because you forgot what it’s like to go running in humidity.

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Because North Andover has relaxed their policies about where to stash a corpse.

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Because your bestie from Emerson College (hi Abby!) has a gorgeous family (hi Noel & Wyatt & Jerry!) and you love seeing her so happy.

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Because Abby brings you to Jamaica Plain Porch Fest, where people play live music from their porches, and you walk around to check out good tunes and enjoy their lovely little community.

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Porchfest

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Because your BFF from North Andover (hi Tano!)  invites you over and serves you white wine with teeny high heels to keep it chilled.

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Because Tano still cracks you up, nearly 20 years after you first met.

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Because when you asked Tano’s husband Steve to take a photo of you, he snuck in a selfie without you noticing. #StealthMode

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Because stoop beers with Steve, Tano, and their dog Harvey.

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Because nothing rocks more than the view on Tano’s street.

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Because Tano and Steve are too much adorable in one photo.

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Because “Hah-vahd Squeah” is wicked awesome at night.

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Because “chowda.”

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Because your brother Brian has a very advanced technique for fighting off bees: broom-swatting.

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Because you find a photo of yourself from 10 years ago and you can’t believe how much weight you’ve gained since then.

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Because chilling by the pool with your brood = bliss.

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And finally…because the most important time is family time! (Not Hammer Time, as you may have thought.)

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The Difference Between Los Angeles and North Andover MA

When you go for a run in North Andover and someone honks at you, they’re saying hi. When you go for a run in Los Angeles and someone honks at you, they’re saying get outta the crosswalk or I am going to kill you.

When you get coffee in Los Angeles and someone gives you the once-over, they’re trying to figure out if you’re an actor. When you get coffee in North Andover and someone gives you the once-over, they’re trying to figure out if you were their Biology lab partner in 1997, back when you were both 20 pounds skinnier.

Your friends in North Andover nurse babies and your friends in Los Angeles nurse hangovers.

Your friends in North Andover have mortgages and your friends in Los Angeles have studio apartments down the hall from the annoying girl with high-waisted salmon-colored jeans and awful bangs.

In North Andover you run up Weir Hill and enjoy the scenery. In Los Angeles you run up Runyon Canyon and enjoy the washboard abs, breast implants, and blindingly bright veneers.

In North Andover you buy pot from your friend’s friend’s balding older brother. In Los Angeles you buy pot from any of the 7 dispensaries on the Venice Boardwalk with a dancing chick in a bikini enticing you through their front door.

In North Andover you buy alcohol from McAloon’s on Chickering and run into the kid from middle school whose name you can’t remember. In Los Angeles you buy alcohol from Rockin Ralphs on Sunset and run into Ron Jeremy.

In North Andover you have to slam on your brakes to avoid hitting turkeys and deer. In Los Angeles you have to slam on your brakes to avoid hitting soulless Botox-y chicks who are whining about their macrobiotic diets on their bedazzled cell phones.