The Frenemy.

Movie: 27 Dresses

Starring: Living proof that ‘bitchface’ is marketable, James Marsden actually getting the girl.

So I’m sitting at home drinking whiskey, ready to prepare for another fabulous night of “going to bars and staring at mildly attractive guys but not talking to them” and luckily for me 27 Dresses is on so I feel happy again. Now- within thirty seconds of this film I already have problems with it. The premise of this film is as follows:

Chick loves weddings but has a terrible uptight personality so finds herself single at the tragic age that Women’s Day Magazine says you should be married already She loves being a bridesmaid and has been so 27 times. Michael Buble is on the soundtrack.

There’s more to that, something about a boss that loves her sister and I think some kind of betrayal I don’t know I can’t finish this movie it hurts so much.

The main reason why this movie is terrible isn’t even because of the plot. I mean-I really would love to be able to sit here and type how the line “YOU’D RATHER FOCUS ON OTHER PEOPLE’S KODAK MOMENTS THAN MAKE MEMORIES OF YOUR OWN” is in this movie. But it is really terrible because of Katherine Heigl. I cannot believe that any movie would cast her as a lead in a movie. Why? Because she looks like such an uptight horrendous bitch! I can’t even look at a picture of her for too long without thinking she is critiquing my outfit or calling me fat. She actually looks racist. LOOK AT THE ABOVE PICTURE! She makes Sharon Stone look maternal! Even when she smiles, she has the venomous quality of some Southern Boutique owner who tells the nice black family to kindly leave her store. But somehow, she has been the lead in this movie, and that movie with Gerard Butler where they have angry hate sex all the time, and probably some other romantic comedies in the future. What gets me is that for 27 Dresses, the lead girl isn’t even that other romantic comedy girl typecast: the c*nty business professional who needs some hot dude to slowly pull the stick out her ass. That I would mostly believe. But no- they instead cast her as the chick who 27 different girls love so much they want her to be in their wedding. I don’t even have three friends who would grant me that and I don’t look like I kill puppies to make gloves out of. I simply cannot get over how they picked her for the lead role in this movie. I mean, if I could, I would make this post about how the average bridesmaid dress is 200 dollars so she has spent a minimum of 5,400 dollars on dresses when she works as Personal Assistant. I would love to make this post about how the two ‘theme’ weddings that are displayed during wedding montages are ‘vampire’ and ‘Indian.’ But instead, I have to write about the mean alcoholic eyes of Katherine instead. First, she got to make out with Seth Rogen, than she ruined my ability to make fun of this specific romantic comedy. Why is this witch so intent on ruining good things? She probably laughed at all the pictures of the cute little birds covered in oil during the Gulf Crisis. Well, maybe not. She mostly just looks like one of those women who casually mentions that welfare is only for lazy drug addicts during meatloaf dinner but I still think that whoever casted this movie chose Katherine because these specific actors were too busy to film:

I spent the better part of my young life in the pursuit of healthiness. I always wanted to eat well, work out, be in shape and look good. Thankfully, every women’s magazine out there wanted to help my misguided, impressionable female self do just that. They figure we girls are stupid and lacking in self control enough not to be able to eat right on our own, and so often in every issue they propose an easy-to-follow meal plan to tell us dummies exactly what’s okay for us to consume.

For a while, I tried to follow these things. For breakfast they always suggest something along the lines of a slice of whole wheat toast with a tablespoon of peanut butter and a medium banana. And so that’s what I ate, making sure I measured out the peanut butter and selected not-too-big bananas. Lunch is usually a green salad with something like three ounces of bland chicken. (You can do an egg white omelet if you’re feeling crazy.) Bottom line: these plans are boring. And the sense of failure I’d feel when I went off them was overwhelming. As a “reward,” the mags will offer you some devilish treat like a cocktail, or half a cup of frozen yogurt. Guess what? I’m not satisfied with half a cup of frozen yogurt. If anything eating that little of a dessert only fuels my craving for more of it. But you know what’s going to happen if you have more, don’t you, fatty?

I stand here today, a complete deviant in the eyes of the glossies whose calorie-precise menus I used to follow so religiously. These days I’m eating mostly whatever I damn please, and liking my bananas big (wink!). It takes more than one drink to get me drunk (do you have any idea what my tolerance is by now?), and so I forgo the “treat” cosmo in favor of a few G&T’s. And I’m sorry, Shape, but do you think I’m going to stop at your suggested four m’n’ms? I’m going to eat half the bag, and that’s if I’m being “smart.” If this makes me a total lardass, then sobeit, I guess. At least I’m not driving myself insane.

 And the thing is, as long as what you eat has some sort of balance, you’ll be fine. Which isn’t hard to figure out. I don’t think you need to be told that eating Double Downs and Big Macs on a regular basis isn’t the best thing you can do for your body. We all know that fatty, processed food < lean protein, and that fresh fruits and veggies are pretty important. No idiotic pre-planned meal plan necessary. No need to shell out the big bucks for organic shit. No reason to try some bizarre macro-biotic or raw food diet. Leave that for the crazies.

So remember: it’s fine to have the occasional pancake breakfast and to clean your plate when you’re out to dinner. Nights spent in front of the TV with a pint of B&J’s or at the bar with a pitcher of margs should induce feelings of relaxation and sluttiness, not guilt. Everything in moderation, as they say, but ya only live once. Eat, drink, and be badass.

About the author: Emily is a fine ass chick who can be found dressing way better than most normal people and being one classy wino at bloggingtipsy.tumblr.com. 

I don’t even know what this Cosmopolitan Article is about. I didn’t read it, mostly because I really enjoy my brain in full functioning mode and not slowly bubbling and melting into a puddle of goo. 

Anyway, I read this title on the Cosmo website and thought: I bet I could write that article without reading the real one, compare it to the real one, and probably get it mostly right. I promise you I did not read the ‘journalistic achievement’ beforehand. The description fo the article said there were seven tips. So I will do seven tips, too. Anyway, here goes something:

1. Put a candy necklace somewhere sexual on your body. Possibly a thigh or straight up the vag. Have him eat it and mumble sweet nothings and love you forever while you are wearing a pencil skirt because you just got back from your job at Express.

2. Trail candy hearts (probably stale and old because it’s fucking JULY) all over your stomach and your bed. Have him eat them and massage your breasts while remembering how much he ‘B MINE’ and how much he ‘TXT ME’

3. Eat a York Peppermint Patty/Mint Candy/Pop Rocks and hob on his knob. The tingle will make him release his protein shake so fast into your mouth you’ll be choking on ‘I love you’ for days afterward.

Those three were giveaways. Now it’s getting harder. I feel pressure: Cosmo cannot, will not win this round. I don’t even eat candy! Why? Because nachos> candy, that’s why. Duh.

4. Paint him with chocolate body paint that you can buy on some skeevy porn shop in the Lower East Side or maybe melt a Hershey Bar if you are so inclined to be cheap and don’t need to stock up on dildos: Lick it off him and get a little bit fatter. Work out tomorrow. Do it the next night.

5. Make out with him after you popped a Lemon Head or a cinnamon hot candy or a sour candy into your mouth. Pass it back in forth. Not sure if I’ve already read this one in Cosmopolitan, or I saw it on Sabrina The Teenaged Witch.

6. put a couple of M and M’s in your hand and give him a handjob. I know it’s a stretch, I just don’t want to foreplay with candy anymore. Why? BECAUSE I DON’T LIKE TO HAVE SEX WITH CHILDREN.

7. Use Twizzlers to create a noose after reading this article. Make sure you use the Twizzler pull and peel, because I feel like that would make a better noose. Write your suicide note with candy buttons. Okay, that one I just wrote because it was funny.

Okay. Those are mine. Now let’s see Cosmo’s and add up my score:

1. Candy Necklace: Use as an edible garter. Cosmo: 0 Alida: 1

2. Melted Chocolate: Melt a chocolate bar in the microwave for 15 seconds…have him use the bar to draw a trail down your body..lick it up. Cosmo: 0 Alida: 2

3. Warheads: Blindfold your guy or send him into another room. Suck on the sour candy for a few seconds before running it over five unexpected hot spots on your body—like behind your knees, on your left nipple, near your collarbone. Then he has to use his sense of taste to find those areas. If he gets all five right, pass him a Warhead and ask him to challenge you. WTF? Okay. You got one. Cosmo: 1 Alida: 2

4. Sour Belts: While you’re making out, use the belts to playfully whip each other’s butts. I’m being real here- that’s disgusting. Cosmo: 2 Alida: 2

5. Hot Tamales Candy Spray: Use the spray version of this red-hot cinnamon candy to graffiti each other’s bodies. Fuck you Cosmo! I don’t even know that Candy exists! Cosmo: 3 Alida: 2

6. Candy Buttons: Peel off the dots, lick the back then stick them to all the places you want your guy to pay extra attention to. Suicide Note Reference totally counts! Cosmo: 3 Alida: 3

7. There isn’t one! Cosmo fooled me! It’s an ad for Secret “strong enough for a man, made for a less important gender!” So it’s a tie!

A tie? What the fuck Cosmo! How about we both just bite a Jawbreaker, lose all our teeth, and give a better BJ tonight? Who wins now? WHO WINS NOW?!

Watching nerdy dream boy Michael Cera grow before our very eyes is like watching a tree peak in the first twenty years. Today, I pay tribute to our little Peter Pan:

Here he standing awkwardly as George Michael Bluth in Arrested Devlopment.

Next up, here he is standing awkwardly in Superbad. I don’t even recognize him, which is, of course, the true mark of an exceptional character actor.

He blew our hearts and our minds away with his uncomfortable stances in Juno. I feel like here he is a totally different person here, probably because of the addition of the sweatband.

This movie (Nick and Norah’s Ultimate Playlist) was made five years after the start of AD. And in those five years, Michael has learned how to finally use a zipper. 

Here he is showing us how to really use those elbows in the upcoming Scott Pilgrim movie. (editor’s note: we really really love scott pilgrim. please do not destroy this for us)

And here he is, finally evolved into a man, after three more indie movies and two more blockbusters:

Everybody knows there are three different Lifetime movies 1. This man is not what he seems! 2. I’m a cop and I will emotionally involve myself in order to solve this crime! and this one, the “I question my parenting!” edition. This is the recipe for that one, as follows.

You Will Need:

One mother

One daughter

Prep Time:

Sixteen years of gentle yet stern parenting

Cooking Time: 

One night of late night drinking and boredom

Directions:

• Take mother. Give her a sassy yet short haircut, add smart and functional jeans and a variety of cardigans and tank tops. She’s still got her figure, but she won’t show it off!
• Take daughter. Add lots of jean skirts/leggings and message t-shirts. Crimp her hair, splash with headbands and braids.
• Shove them into a nicely furnished condo in respectable middle-class neighborhood.
• Give daughter an older boyfriend. Have older boyfriend wear a leather jacket and one hoop earring. 
• Sprinkle in the phrase ‘everybody’s doing it.’ Chip away at daughter’s usually smart decisions and good grades, using one red solo cup and a basement party with approximately 6-10 teenagers. 
• Make this party a horrifying sex and drug party with lots of peer pressure. Depict this by adding rock music from non-specific band (cannot afford to purchase song rights) and slow motion to depict mild drunkenness.
• Have daughter experience extreme impossible result from party, such as quadruple pregnancy or incredible addiction to marijuana and Miller High Life.
• Marinate in mother’s despair at parenting skills by having her bury her hands at her secretarial job/arguments with her Sears Catalog insurance salesman husband. Have husband be an incredible breadwinner who takes no part in parenting and possibly forgets children’s names, which obviously makes him best husband ever.
• 3-5 minutes of conversation with ethnic best friend who says things like ‘kids will be kids’ followed by frightening statistics of teen death.
• Have daughter slam door in mother’s face. Have other, younger daughter try on slutty clothing. Eat dinner as a family.
• Mother catches daughter smoking light cigarette and looking at how cool drinking is on the internet. This makes her throw a vase, run around screaming, or some other overreaction that begs to ask the tough question ‘where did I go wrong?’
• Answer: she didn’t go wrong. Because-
• Classmate of teen daughter dies as a result of babies she has had, fatal STD, or overdose on three beers.
• Have everything work out swimmingly by showing daughter hug her mom, realizing  how much of a slut that dead classmate is, and breaking up with boyfriend by school lockers.
• If daughter is pregnant at this point, have her give her babies to infertile widow with one hand. Daughter goes back on swim team and wins match/
• Mother is satisfied, drinks a glass of chardonnay to celebrate followed by insinuation of missionary sex with husband.
• Credits: Reba McIntire song.

Serving Size: Six million moms who do not understand their children.

High waisted shorts, I am on the fence about you. Sometimes I think you make people look good. Sometimes I think you make people look like Mickey Mouse.

I mean I’d wear you, but I still have the fear that I’ll end up looking like one of those mom’s who has a FUPA, three young kids/a pending divorce. She eats yogurt in her car and really likes ‘that Tina Fey.’ But that’s because I have a small torso and sometimes I watch The View. So I’ll just have to have mixed feelings about you on other people.

(image demicouture.com)

I read today that the military jacket is going to be big for 2010 fall fashion. As a jacket lover-leather and blazer being mine and everybody’s favorite-I beg you: please don’t wear these because nobody normal looks good in them. Seriously. You will look stupid and I don’t want you to look stupid. If you are a girl living in the present, bypass this jacket. Spend your money on something useful, like beer. You can, however, wear them if you are :

The mice from Coraline

The savior of the broken, the beaten and the damned.

Dead, racist.

Thank you.

Girls are so bad with phones. They’re always losing them, or they’re off, or they drop them into something.” -Kevin, on girls.

 Well, that’s not really true, Kev. Girls are perfectly capable of using phones. In fact, some studies show that the top things girls are best at are:

(2) Using their phone.

(3) Using their phone while walking.

(4) Using their phone while walking to talk about how shocked they are that ‘he would like, do that.’

So yeah. We’re well versed, to say the least. However, you might notice that the list I have listed actually starts at number 2. So I bet you’re wondering-what is the #1 thing girls are good at? 

                                      Lying about the status of their phone.

Seriously. I  lie about my phone virtually every day. Whenever I don’t want to talk to somebody, or am too lazy to talk to somebody, or am doing something important like watching Real Housewives, I say one of the following-My phone was off, my phone is kind of busted, I was out of service so I didn’t get that text, oh my god i think i broke my phone but I’m not sure, I’m not passive-aggressive person, my PHONE is!

You see, technically, my phone is fine. I mean, sometimes it does fuck up because it is old (which may or may not be true) And yes, technically, sometimes I keep my phone in the other room, but technically sometimes I can fly. For the most part, I, like most females, keep my phone clamped in my jaw, sweaty palms, or in my line of sight because if I miss a text blast I will die.  Most people know this about us, yet we still claim our phones are what keeps us from calling you about grabbing Thai food sometime. But we use the same excuse! We got to at least spice up this Duncan Hines, ladies! So, for your handy dandy, I’ve compiled a list of sassier communication excuses that might help you through a “oh fuck not you” moment:

1. I was going to call you but my carrier pigeon got sick and died so I tried to send you a smoke signal turns out white people were total dicks to Native Americans so they didn’t want to help me out, the shits.

2. My phone became self aware and then died of heartbreak because it fell in love with a guy on the wrong side of the tracks who soon died in a poverty typhoon and it also is quite a shock to know the sad, sad state of this cruel world.

3. My vibrator broke so I was using my phone alarm on vibrate while staring at pictures of Robert Pattinson and I didn’t know I had a phone call.

4. I got your text, but I just saw Inception so I figured ‘oh this must be a part of my created dream world.’ so I just ignored it because I didn’t really understand the technicalities of that movie and so I was confused.(FUCK YEAH I MADE AN INCEPTION JOKE! I AM FINALLY A PART OF THE MASSES! I HAVE MADE IT! LOVE ME! LOVE ME!)

5. I got your phone call but I was emotionally unavailable to answer it due to low self-esteem, Daddy Issues, cruel ex-boyfriend or any combination of the three.

6. I am a tool, sorry. (only works if you have a Blackberry) 

7. My parents pay for my phone bill, sorry. (only works if you have an Iphone)

8. I was too busy shitting on the floor wearing a dead squirrel but I would totally love to go out tonight!

9. I’m not mature enough to pick up the phone and have an adult conversation with you, outlining that I am too busy to go out, or that I can’t really talk right now, or anything that isn’t childish like not answering your call and then pretending my phone doesn’t work.

So there’s that list. YOU CAN THANK ME LATER FOR IT.

You Will Need:

One (130-154pds, 5’11) boy

One (skinny) girl

Three to Four Obstacles

A 19 year old art student’s I-Pod

Prep Time: 20-23 years of angst/one good breakup

Cooking Time: 90-120 minutes

Directions: 

• Take boy. Sprinkle with stripes (2003) or plaid (present day) and depression.
• Hang his head with the loss of his father or give him a sketchbook where he draws people from his town and pretty girls. Put Vonnegut in his backpack but make him 23.
• Add in girl, who has marinated in four to six years of B cup breasts, high-waisted shorts and angelic lighting.
• Make them both vaguely townies.
• Have boy look up.
• Preheat oven to 3-24 minutes of quips.
• Add Zach Galifianakis/Fred Willard in bit part where they wear sweaters and give comical yet wise advice.
• Wash out all color of scenes to make seem more real.
• Introduce someone having an unusual and endearing job or habit. Jobs include but do not limit: guy who puts on makeup at open casket funerals, carnival worker, sock maker, something that makes you do something monotonous for eight hours a day while looking pretty and listless and you can dream. Habits include: talking to somebody dead, people watching at funerals or airports, something that maks you do something weird for eight hours a day while looking pretty and undertstanding people more.
• Have a step-parent or boyfriend that does not understand girl and hates boy. Suggest emotional abuse but do not address this. Let them think about this next to a record player.
• Remove I-Pod of all Muse, Creed and Coldplay. Put on one song from Garden State soundtrack, but do not play that one. Instead, hit the Genius button and play all of those songs. 
• Have them kiss once or twice whenever a xylophone plays but mostly have them talk.
• Sexual tension expressed through uncomfortable scene on bed. This can include boy masturbating. Girl can masturbate through white linen dress. For 23 year year olds, they should be more sexually aware, but if that seems so you’re making it wrong.
• Scene where somebody eats oatmeal and makes appropriate quote that will make it on it’s very popular IMDB page.
• Continue to wash all color out of movie. Have a scene where boy lays on ground outside and thinks through leaves and sunlight.
• Make them now love each other, kind of. Do this through long discussions of (a) stars (b) the hopes of opening up a sandwich shop, be a circus performer (c) somebody dead (d) getting out of town they cannot leave due to retarded uncle, dying somebody, broken car.
• Long scene in car, if car is not broken.
• Break up.
• Suicide attempt through pills or something that nobody dies from, like perhaps going off the diving board of an empty pool. Make it metaphorical.
• Make up.
• Boy becomes man because of somebody dead.
• Kiss. 
• Cute ending with stop motion animation.
• Garnish with a movie poster that has cutesy handwriting, one bright color, and a guy with a Member’s Only Jacket holding one flower behind his back.

Serving Size: Kid who’s I-pod you stole and his like-minded friends, all who think they could write this movie better.

(image static.com)

Movie: Drag Me To Hell

Starring: That Mac Guy Who Boned Drew Barrymore, Girl who looks like Drew Barrymore.

Premise: So this girl that works at a bank denies this old woman a loan. Which is good, because old people didn’t do anything to deserve special treatment except not die. That’s all. I haven’t died yet AND I don’t smell like mustard and basements and old timey racism: why don’t you help me cross the street? Anyway, this old woman was the worst kind of old woman because she had lots of tissues and hard candy in her purse and what the fuck is up with hard candy in old people’s purses? Do you just get a bunch of pieces of hard candy when you’re forty with instructions that say- now don’t start handing this out until twenty years from now when you start having strong opinions about ‘the gays’ and you become a hoarder? Anyway, this old woman is also the worst kind of old woman because she’s a gypsy and casts a spell on that girl that will suck her into hell in three days. At first, I don’t feel bad for this girl because she looks really good in those fifties style sundresses that make me look like my armpits are fat. She’s also dating Justin Long, who just seems like the kind of guy you want to marry because he doesn’t look like he’ll go bald and he also doesn’t seem to hit too hard. But then there are a bunch of scary demon moments that are startling and also gross and kind of funny and the girl ends up seeming kind of nice and why do women hate on other women anyway? So I didn’t want her to go to hell.

Why You Should See It: Did you read the premise? If that’s not enough for you, it happens to be directed by Sam Raimi of awesome Evil Dead fame. Still not convinced? Well, I’m sorry that this movie isn’t romantic enough for you. That’s it, isn’t it? You miss the soft golden waves of Matthew McConahue? McCoughney? McConnahee? You miss your gentle yet relatable Sandra Bullock? You want your lovable advice from ethnic best friends? You want to eat bonbons in your pajamas? (which by the way, nobody’s eaten in ten years) You wanna hold your cat forever? Why don’t you climb right into your tomb of Dido CD’s and scrapbook projects-because you are on the fast express train to dying alone! Do yourself a favor and expand your mind, Halter McMuffin Top- maybe you’ll actually meet a guy who..well. He’ll probably play a lot of video games and talk down to you. I never said this was easy.

Why It Ruins Love For Us All: Remember Justin Long, her cute boyfriend? Yeah, well he STICKS BY HER THE WHOLE TIME. He is even willing to go to hell for her. Plus, he doesn’t even really believe her. He’s all like ‘my girlfriend is probably crazy but I love her so much that I will go on a ridiculous quest with her so she will not go to hell and I will give her a lot of my money even though she has hawk-like eyebrows!” Would Keanu Reeves do that? No! Would Zach Braff do that? Not even to an indie soundtrack! Would I do that? Fuck no! I would dump her skinny ass on the Lucifer’s doorstep because even if she’s not a crazy skank, nobody’s that hot to worth messing with the devil for. I am going to heaven with all dogs, Patrick Swayze in Ghost, and the baseball players from Field of Dreams. But adorable Justin Long risks all of that for this girl that he eats dinner with and has sex with on a consistent basis. And that’s way better than any romantic comedy I’ve seen. It also makes me kind of believe in love. Because nothing says ‘I love you’ more than ‘You may be one psychotic bitch, but at the end of the day, I just don’t want your soul to be lost to the demonic pits of Hades.”  Hallmark couldn’t have put it any better if it tried. 

(image Gossipteen.com)

When I was twelve years old, I used to have a subscription to Girl’s Life Magazine. It opened me up to a wonderful tween world of period horror stories, full page layouts of pre-douche John Mayer, all sorts of ways to wear a tank top, and non-sexual algebra flirting. Of course, once I hit fourteen and started wearing a real bra, all I could think about was how I would one day get a subscription to older, cooler magazines like Cosmopolitan. Those would teach me how to French Kiss college guys and show me where the hell my bikini line was. However, as it sadly turned out, Girls Life magazine was really just Cosmopolitan magazine with more underwater sex tales and slightly more Plan B. Most of the time they were virtually indistinguishable. How disappointing, considering one is marketed for people who get wet watching Twilight and one is marketed towards teen girls. Don’t believe me? Prove me wrong by taking my handy quiz. I will give you a series of article titles from either Cosmopolitan or Girl’s Life. You guess which one is which, and yes, it’s harder than it sounds.

1. Seven Reasons to Date a Geek 

2. Six Reasons Nerds Rock 

3. 5 Annoying Things Guys Do On Facebook 

4. How To Ask A Guy Out 

5. Mr. Right-On! 

6. Snag That Dream Job 

7. What his Favorite Superhero Reveals 

8. Are you a Twilight Addict? 

9. Brush Up On Current Events

10. Top Lauren Conrad Hairstyles 

AND NOW, A TWEEN BREAK!!!!!!!!!!!

(Image hannahmontanapic.com)

ANSWERS:

1, 3, 4, 7, 10 from Cosmopolitan

2, 5, 6, 8, 9 from Girl’s Life

Scoring:

1-3 correct: Well, pour yourself a glass of White Zinfandel, sister, you are a true Cosmo Girl! Now go out there and make out with some guy with a goatee!

4-7 correct: Now I know you’re only sixteen, but keep on reading books and hating Lindsay Lohan and you might be a true friend of the frenemy someday. Oh, and do yourself a favor now by admitting to yourselves that the Jonas Brothers are all gay. All. Gay.

8-10 correct: If you’re reading this, I hope this is your score. If not, go drink some whiskey and sarcastically watch an episode of Gossip Girl. Then take this quiz again.

Dear Cathy:

Listen up, noseless bitch. You and your one woman frame by frame minstrel show have made me hate women on more than three thousand occasions, and I resent you for it. You tempt me into thinking I should blow my brains out before I ever hit thirty-five. It’s not even because you’ve tried to convince me that my thighs will turn to cottage cheese, Jell-o, or whatever else old people eat in hospitals. It’s because you have made me realize that when a CosmoGirl grows out of being a calorie counting shoe robot, she becomes a calorie counting Cathy shoebot with saggier breasts.

I know, I know. I’m pretty sure you were conjured up by the devil when the devil was like “it’s the ‘80’s? Better make sure I create something that throws women back two hundred years or so.” And for some reason, you have lasted decades and so have your stereotypes. Like these:

Hi, I’m a woman. I have sex dreams about pies. I am obsessed with shoes.I literally have no self-control when I see a chocolate bar. Oh, is that a chocolate bar? I have to scream and run at it. It’s so funny because I have no dignity when it comes to candy. I refer to summer as ‘bikini season’ because i’m sassy about my body insecurities. Did you know secret shame has no calories? When I finally get married, I will hilariously control my husband because we have stale missionary sex three times a month. I have six friends named Jan. Come look at my collection of needlepoint pillows and coffee mugs with diet phrases on them now.

First of all- shoes? For Fuck’s sake Cathy you barely have ankles. Second of all, my aunt had this Cathy comic on her fridge and it has always haunted me. I don’t remember what it was exactly but I know it was along the lines of this-

(image mandalee.com)

From then on, I was scared that my aunt would see chocolate and go blind with rage, attacking all who came near her. Why do people think that chocolate makes women go violent? ie:

(image 3.bp.)

That’s a phrase I’ve seen a lot. On like, tote bags. It’s not even funny- that’s a terrible, terrible thing to say about a menial thing you can buy mostly at any store ever. No need to attack, fatty fatty two by four.

Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that, in the same way that Family Circus ruined families and dead grandpas for me forever- you have really ruined a lot of things I look forward to when I get to be a middle-aged woman. Like still being alive.  However, to be fair, I do give you props for claiming that this is a joke:

What the fuck are you even talking about? You make me want to suicide bomb Ladies Home Journal. Seriously- life after 30 isn’t like taking out all the sex tips in Cosmo, baking it into a fiber bran muffin, and shitting on a picture of The View.  I think you just make it seem like it is. Personally, I plan on gaining ten soft pounds in my hips and wearing smart blazers. 

Anyway, go continue being a pear-shaped socially anxious chocolate terrorist. I will continue hating you from afar. 

Just so you know- this is a list of your books. Like, maybe you don’t know what they’re called. Because you block out dumb. I’m just reminding you that this is what you think about women:

• “What do you mean, I still don’t have equal rights??!” 
• What’s a Nice Girl Like You Doing With a Double Bed 
• I think I’m having a Relationship with a Blueberry Pie!
• A Mouthful of Breath Mints and No One to Kiss 
• Men should come with instruction booklets 
• Wake me up when I’m a size 5 
• A hand to hold, an opinion to reject 
• My Granddaughter Has Fleas!!
• Only Love Can Break a Heart, But a Shoe Sale Can Come Close
• Abs of Steel, Buns of Cinnamon 
• I Am Woman, Hear Me Snore 
• I’d Scream Except I Look So Fabulous

oh my god are you doing this?

No Love,

Alida