The Frenemy.

People really want to fall in love. Actually, let me narrow this down a bit: according to meg ryan movies, Jack Johnson, and tampons, girls really want to fall in love. Sarah Jessica Parker would be one homeless Black Beauty if women across America didn’t blow their emotional loads over the hope they will one day bump into Prince Charming on a horse full of baggage.

Sometimes this desire begins to border on desperation. There are a lot of crazy single girls that give us normal single girls a bad name. You’ve seen them infesting the streets like zombies, wearing romantic tops and hoping to infect men’s brains by spewing Paramore lyrics into their eyes. Statistics show that 99.7% of single females today are ‘sarcastic, beautiful, wild. I speak my mind and I’m not your average cookie-cutter girl.’ With further research, the root of this epidemic lies in the recent Facebook ‘Favorite Quotes’ phenomenon that women are basically apples:

The best ones are at the top of the tree. Most men don’t want to reach for the good ones because they are afraid of falling and getting hurt. Instead, they sometimes take the apples from the ground that aren’t as good, but easy. The apples at the top think something is wrong with them, when in reality, they’re amazing. They just have to wait for the right person to come along, the one who is brave enough to climb all the way to the top of the tree.

 Now listen- I understand we all really want to find someone we can flop around in meadows with and listen to Boyz II Men songs that are all like “I will die for your love ” which is way too much for my taste. I mean- would you really want to get stabbed in your ribcage for some dude who wears too much cologne and likes Tom Wolfe? Would you get shot in the face for a Taylor Swift song? Whatever dude, love and light.

However, with all this love searching, the phrase ‘Online dating’ still leaves a bad taste in everyone’s mouth. We’ll go to bars and drink till we’re stupid or until some guy approaches us with some crap line and he’s all like “I love Muse too wanna come back to my place?” But online dating- that’s weird! It’s kind of like eating scrambled eggs without seasoning but instead of eggs it’s a fat man with a cat fetish who disguises his hairy back with a profile picture he took in 1982. It’s kind of like admitting you actually like Entourage. You know the feeling you get when somebody tells you they met their boyfriend online: you judge and glee and it’s all deliciously stupid but wait! Nobody admits they met their boyfriend online because it’s creepy. It’s like, hello internet give me your tired, your huddled masses, your desperate and your lonely because I will find you the love! Give me a boyfriend because I want one so! so! bad that I I found one on the world wide web! Find me my sn is SassyKittenz15!

Then, out of nowhere, I’m enjoying my gin and more gin, watching television and being alone, when one of those pissy little match website commercials come on. You know the kind: doe-eyed couples staring at each other in stupid cardigan sweaters, kissing each other happily and being like “I SUCK UP HAPPINESS LIKE A ZOOMBA!” There they are, swinging on children swings and there’s music and lilacs and I kind of want to set myself on fire but I don’t because there’s a statistic:

1 in 5 relationships starts online.

Shut the front door there pals, because that statistic just took some Family Circus magic love pipe dreams and made them hard stoned reality. 25 percent of people in America find love on the internet? Well, I guess it makes sense. I bank online, I buy shoes online, why can’t I meet my next boyfriend? Oh, right. Because I’m not a freak.

However, the dating pool is full of weirdies. If dating were were actually a pool it would be a town pool full of little weird losers who piss in there and splash you and your dad wouldn’t want you to swim in it. But I took the statistic seriously and given that the last guy I had met at a bar had the opening line of “I’m a youtube celebrity,”  I decided to try it out. Why? Because I’m bored. Because I’m an agoraphobic narcissist. Because I really am sick of bad dates, and I figure since many girls like me aren’t subscribing to the Rom Com Pipe Dream way of being single, perhaps I should be proactive about it and see what’s up. I’m an independent woman, damnit- I can suspend my dignity for a moment. Regardless, I went on one of the free sites which was OkCupid, because I’m not paying for this hit. OkCupid could also be a Fall Out Boy album name.

So I’ve had this thing for a couple of weeks and I what have I learned?  Well, I guess you’ll just have to wait for that one. Not because I’m trying to pull you back into reading more of my blog but because my vodka ran out so I’m spent. (Spoiler: Online dating is for mostly freaks)

Stay tuned fuckers. Not that I expect you too, I’m just saying you can.

Ah, youth is wasted on the young and I’m feeling nostalgic tonight. From the perspective of a post-graduate college student, nothing really topped off an especially good Saturday night than some whiskey soaked macaroni and cheese. Here, I share the best recipe I know:

You will need:

1 box of Kraft/generic supermarket brand/Trader Joe’s macaroni and cheese

2 pre-gamed shots of vodka, 2 PBRs, 1 extra strong Jim Beam and Diet Coke

1-3 hungry roommates

The resolve to eat macaroni and cheese tonight instead of calling an ex or making out with the lame metal band singer/jock pre-med major with the strong cologne scent and appealing upper arms.

The milk your roommate bought and you ask if you can borrow a splash

Butter you suspect is old, but does butter even get old? Smell the butter, nod to nobody.

Various powdered spices (garlic powder, paprika, salt, pepper, cinnamon that you think is cayenne pepper, celery salt from your weird housemate that thinks she can cook)

1-2 slices of processed American cheese/handful of shredded cheese you stole from the bitchy, sleeping roommate. Jackpot, naughty girls!

Preparation: 

-Get home in cab, remember box of mac and cheese, pee for what seems like forever.

- Take off ripped tights and fancy party outfit that took you an hour to decide upon but you’ve worn twice this month. Stare into mirror, wipe smudged eyeliner, approve.

-Throw on large t-shirt/college sweatshirt and loudly patter into kitchen.

-Joke with roommate about how lame that (party, ex, guy you secretly want to hook up with) was. Announce you are making food and will share, as if you are Mother Teresa. 

-drop the pot you want to boil water in, laugh maniacally with friend.

-wait until the water is half-boiled, get sick of waiting and throw the boxed macaroni in anyway.

-leave on high for too long. Watch the bubbles foam over the pot because it sounds cool. Since you cannot find the colander, burn your hand and lose 1/5 of the macaroni into the sink.

-drop the powdered cheese package into the pot, tell the roommate in the TV room to put on ‘something good.’ Send halfway sexy, misspelled text to guy at party you didn’t hook up with. I mean, you want to feel wanted but, like you don’t want to sleep with him! Jesus.

-Throw all of the other ingredients into the pot and stir with a metal fork. Watch your parents find that pot when you move out and be exasperated at another ruined pot.

-dump the contents into 2-4 bowls, three of which you had to check if they were clean and rinsed under water without soap. 

-serve with the half a beer you left on the windowsill/some of the ‘leftover vodka’ you keep on hand. Have no chasers and no ice.

- Eat all in three bites. Fall asleep on the couch with the empty bowl in hand. Wake up at 530 am and go to your bed. Leave bowl on couch for tomorrow.

Prep Time:

18 years of suburban living and triple the normal time the box says it should take.

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The Movie: The Expendables

Starring: Aging Raw Steak and The United States of America

The Premise: This movie is the ultimate Romantic Comedy for guys. It’s like Harry Met Sally, then beat up her boyfriend, shot a bunch of foreign soldiers and finished by exploding some army trucks. Okay, there’s a premise. Sylvester Stallone plays a man whose greatest enemy is age, dyes his beard, and has uncomfortable veins. His right-hand man is Jason Statham, who is what happens when a high school gym teacher gets a movie role and some karate lessons. I am attracted to him out of fear. They are a part of a group of “expendables”: men who wear little black berets and have mastered the art of the excellent one-liner followed by the kill shot. They seem to like America only by the default that they hate everybody who  lives anywhere else. The group also includes Jet-Li, who has no grasp of the English language, a UFC fighter (which is the male casting equivalent of a CW star), and the guy who lost The Cold War for the Soviets in Rocky IV. After a bunch of gun shooting, Somali pirate laser killing, and cigar-smoking, the cast gets startled that there is no plot and Bruce Willis is all like ‘gimme a second I got this.’ He spends three minutes narrowing his eyes and promising to pay Sly and his gang to shoot a Spanish guy with a red beret. Why? Drugs and stop asking questions. Jason and Stallone share a couple of side glances and fist pumpings and oh! look! Mickey Rourke wears a cowboy hat and throws knives! Why? Hey, ladies, shut up! If you can have Edward Cullen sparkle for no reason, let the men have the dagger throwing. Okay, so they go to this country that doesn’t exist and Eric Roberts, who is the least threatening man I have ever seen, is a drug lord and who cares? Steve Austin is in it! He sadly doesn’t Stone Cold anyone, which is sort of like the kiss that never happens. Also, Sly and Statham are this generation’s Hepburn and Tracy, murdering for America and bonding through similar sweat stains and explosions that are not possible.

Why you should see it: Because it creates another hilarious divide between men and women!!  For example, here is my male friend’s take on the movie:

Here is my take on it:

As in a divide that means: I don’t really understand why it is existent, either! But we’re cool with it! HAHA MEN ARE FROM MARS AM I RIGHT LADIES?

Bonus reason: you should also see Mickey Rourke try to deliver a dramatic monologue in super close up shot while he is kind of drooling.

Why it ruins love for us all: I think this movie is hilarious. Mostly because I love revenge, America, waterboarding, and things that are ridiculous. And in a world full of vampires, Jennifer Aniston, Eat Pray Love, and other imaginary things, sometimes I like watching Sylvester Stallone shoot up some steroids and just kick someone’s ass. No! You should see this because he’s very old! He is very old! Respect him! Go see it out of respect! Respect your elders!

Ahhh. The Facebook Status Song Lyrics. For many young girls with profile pictures taken in bathroom mirrors, it is so difficult to summon the life energy to answer that all-important social networking question “What’s on your mind?” After all, Brendan or Brandon or Jaden has just smashed their heart right outside the Wendy’s parking lot, and all he can do is…”stand here and watch me burn!” But-if your love is not of your local industrial high school variety- how will you know what songs lyrics to put on your Facebook? HOW?!?!?! FOR GOD SAKES TAKE THIS QUIZ AND SAVE YOUR SOUL!!!!

1. You are soooooooo hungry! What do you eat for a snack? 

a. McDonalds in my pickup truck, 14 Newport Cigarettes, and one acrylic nail

b. Burrito bought on your parent’s credit card! Unless if it’s Ana’s..cash only.

c. Guacamole…and blood!

2. You are going out on the town! What do you wear?

a. I have this Wet Seal slut top I wear with a cross

b. whatever’s on gawker.com 

c. family problems and blood

3. What is your Facebook status tonight?!

a. -They say thata her0 can sav5 us!- N1ckleback Out with @AshleyHomes luvvv first Applebees 4 happy hournachos <3 than just chillaxin with some bbeer call and hang outbabi3 you hurt me but I just keep cuming bak i know we’ll makee it 2/11/04evR

b. that song by Cee-Loo is so good i’m going to post it on my blog.

c. Twilight sucks because (reason why other creepy vampire fantasy franchise is better)

4. Who was your last boyfriend?

a. I’ve had the same boyfriend on and off for fifteen years <3

b. I only forge emotional connections with all genders but I’d like to take a moment to talk about the kinds of movies I like.

c. My spine

5. What reality show would you be on?

a. Cops becuz it would be hilarious to bust mcdorland when he pissed over the side of the reservoir that time we had a campfire

b. Reality is what you decide it is. Read a coffee table book.

c. I can turn into a bat at midnight

WELL THERE YOU GO RESULTS!

Mostly A’s: CREED, LINKIN PARK, OR WHATEVER OTHER MUSIC SUCKS

Mostly B’s: BAND OF HORSES YOU BON IVER HIPSTER TRASH

Mostly C’s: HILLARY DUFF

The Movie: Confessions of a Shopaholic

Starring: Turkey Giblets and a Ziploc bag filled with Alpo

The Premise: Welp. I am three vodka tonics into this movie and I have finally found something so terrible that no amount of delicious, sweet alcohol can lessen the pain.

I’ll be honest, I missed the first fifteen minutes of this movie/my brain blocked them out. But that doesn’t matter, because nothing in this movie matters. The basic idea is a ginger girl has this terrible addiction to shopping. Which doesn’t even sound that serious except she’s escaping from debtors, hacking away at credit cards she’s freezing in ice blocks and I’m pretty sure she shoots up Gucci and addiction is hilarious! I know this because I usually don’t look into a mirror until after my second drink and even that makes me cry what was I talking about 

So she gets a job as a columnist in an economist magazine, or a financial…LET ME EXPLAIN THIS TO YOU SHE HAS NO QUALIFICATIONS AND IS STEEPED IN DEBT AND SHE GOT A JOB TO WRITE A COLUMN FOR A FINANCIAL MAGAZINE AND I AM APPLYING TO SECRETARY JOBS AFTER EARNING A FOUR YEAR DEGREE AT A VERY GOOD COLLEGE AND I CAN’T TAKE THIS

whatever, she fucks her boss who is british. Which is always a blecccch love interest in a movie. Get off your knees when you’re climbing to the top, lady! I mean, I know there’s some sort of large fishbowl where hollywood execs just pick ‘love interest’ out of a hat and the options are:

British, boss, best friend, hometownie dude, best friend’s brother, not british, business rival, person you have accidentally married, youngest doctor ever (not doogie), chiseled movie star, hugh grant, what’s john cusack doing lately?, investigative journalist, pile of dog shit, nerd.

They really should find more believable love interests such as: 

bartender at open bar wedding, creepy European guy who owns scooter, guy in metal band with tattoos named Satan, music snob who loves Weezer, aspiring actor who texts you too much, friend you shouldn’t sleep with but do and it’s so awkward now.

Why you should see it: If you still think a romcom scene where the two main characters dance at a bar (like, salsa or ballroom or the kind of dance where he dips her) so they can realize the sexual chemistry they obviously have, I need you to jump off your roof.

Why it ruins love for us all: Well, when I finally managed to roll off the couch thus ending my brain coma, I realized I had just wasted two hours of my life watching this girl who dresses like visual insanity-

-write financial columns comparing stocks and bonds to stiletto heels, trip three times comically, get on a TV show, manage to get out of 10,000 dollars in debt, think that store mannequins can clap at her, and snag a relatively attractive man. This makes me all Samuel Beckett and I think life is worthless and I make another drink and I’m like, whatisthemeaningoflife, romantic comedy? TELL ME, ROMANTIC COMEDY! OPEN YOUR PANDORA BOX OF SECRETS SO I, TOO, CAN BE SUCCESSFUL!! And then I yell NOOOOOOOOO!!! in the rain over my recently shot dead lover end scene.

Please don’t see this movie. I am so cold, so lifeless now. So, so cold.

Terminator 2 has been one of my favorite movies since I was an itty bitty kid. God bless Edward Furlong, and God Bless IMDB. 

Viva la 22!

Hello, I am a high schooler with a fashion blog! I have this fashion blog because my parents got me a subscription to Vogue and Nylon magazine. I watch Gossip Girl. I went to Paris for two weeks! I probably have lived in California! I say things like : ‘must get around to buying these’ and ‘love love love!’ 

To make you think I know a lot about fashion, I put editorial photo shoots with creepy dead couture models, or various LA girls who do cocaine and are scared of pants:

I get that you talk about how thrifty you are when buying Prada, how ‘classic and versatile’ high waisted everything is and oh, you wear a different blazer from your blazer collection twice a week? Cool! Well, you know what?! I see right through you, high school fashion blogger. I know you’re a big phony- just regurgitating the same perfect jeans philosophy over and over on your fancy new MacBook. I know your fashion sense is about as trustworthy as that skater you’re dating. Anyway, I put together this handy vision board of outfits for you, you Katy Perry Trust Fund Baby. I hope you enjoy!

Here is something you might wear to school! I hope you like the range of colors and brands I chose for you!

Here is what I made for you to go to the mall in! Oops! I mean “to the city to shop!” It is creative because you are wearing aviators and not Ray-Bans! Vintage is so in!

PARTY OPTION #1: THE KEGGER

PARTY OPTION #2: DINNER IN MANHATTAN WITH FRIENDS! (SUSHI)

PARTY OPTION #3: A FRIEND’S BROTHER WHO GOES TO NYU KNOWS OF A LOFT PARTY IN BROOKLYN, PLUS THIS SWEET HOOKAH BAR THAT MOSTLY DOESN’T CARD!

Now that that’s done, looks like we don’t need your blog again! Ever! Thank you, good luck!

I thought Cosmo sex tips consisted of “stay thin and be quiet!,” so when I heard the Cosmo Kama Sutra existed, I had to check it out! Upon knowledge of this, my vagina began to immediately lose all of its little vagina brain cells and self esteem and started caring about men who play sports. I knew I was in for a treat, and Cosmo did not disappoint. The sex tips in this issue were all water-related sex tips, given that it is summer so all you want to do is sleep with men in pools because of how sanitary thatis. The names were adorable:

          Nothing gets a girl more sex crazed than alliteration!

And, while they describe them in beautiful, haunting literary metaphor: “This is a tricky pose and should only be tried when the seas are calm,” The Cosmo Kama Sutra’s pictures are really worth a 1,000 words.

Hey! Wanna have sex on the beach until a helicopter hovers above you? How about on a football field or children’s theater stage?  Better try The Hot Seat, which is exactly where you will be when you get arrested!

“I’m sorry, Little Jimmy, but you’re going to have to use the other ladder.”

So, has anybody ever tried to stay on one of those inflatable rafts? Because I have relaxed on those rafts. And I have not been able to stay on one of those rafts for more than two minutes before I flip over and think the raft has doubled infinitely and I am capsized and I will drown. Oh, and nothing beats the feeling of damp breasts rubbing on plastic. Looks like somebody will have three rashes in the morning!

I’m really glad these two assholes have absolutely no regard for people’s pool toys. Somebody else could use that later, you morons! I didn’t pop my ears blowing up that beach balloon so you could degrade it! Also, I really need to think about your vaginal smush when I am playing beach ball with a baby. I am never inviting this faceless couple to my BBQs again.

Perfect for the woman dating a giant!

Hey! rub-a-dub, ho! rub-a-dub, three maids in a tub,
And who do you think were there?
The butcher, the baker, the candlestick-maker,
And all of them gone to the fair!

I didn’t know those were the words! And I guess I didn’t notice they were gay. Anyway, they are fucking in the tub I picture during that rhyme, so that’s cool.

DON’T FORGET TO DROWN!

Ahh, Cosmo. I am always humbled by your grace.

A girl I know just got engaged. I will now tell you her story:

She is a modern girl living in the city. She is pretty but she is not hatefully beautiful. She works in fashion. She dated a guy for three years named “Tommy,” which is automatically a douchebag name. He was short and said things like ‘hey babe’ and wore bowties with skulls on them. I had never seen him in casual attire, but I assume he wore cuff bracelets and long sleeved cotton shirts under short sleeved cotton shirts. He probably had barbed wire tattoos. He sucked.

She met her fiance because he lived in the building she lived with Tommy. He is Spanish looking, not offensive stereotype Spanish like Antonio Sabato Jr., where you think he will wear linen shirts and salsa fuck you. He is gently Spanish like Gael Garcia Bernal where you think he will read you Marquez and put tapas on your body and tell you things on his Spanish Guitar. 

He sees her when she is in her apt and falls in love with him. He waits, with fiery passion and long, drawn out spanish r sounds. She isa beautiful a-woman, and he a-loves her! Here is where the Spanish man breaks something to prove his love for her. 

Anyway, when she finally cannot take Tommy anymore because he is so douche and mildly pushes her into a wall, she takes all her furniture and she leaves! Probably playing The Coors or some other woman band! Tommy Douche sends flowers! He loves her! A-Mr. A-Spanish man waits. I seet here. I wait for her. You will see, mi amor. I wait here. He swoops. Wines her, dines her, feeds her exotic foods. A year later, he proposes with a giant diamond ring when she is taking pictures of a heart she had made out of wood chips. Somewhere far away, Tommy Douche listens to Dane Cook CD and cries. Fuck them. I’m happy for them.

I tell you this story because WTF. Seriously, I thought that joy in romantic comedies was that they are not real. That way, when Sally McDumbBrain decides that she will one day fall in love with some awe-inducing guy with his hands always in his pockets, we get to laugh and laugh when she marries the guy from Fry House who knocked her up. That’s my personal happiness. But today, I hear this story and I’m about to shoot bile all over the wall-because if girls know that romantic stories like this are possible, they’re going to hump a Nicholas Sparks books until it burns with possiblities. I mean, if I said:

hey! Nora Ephron has this new movie called “The Complex” and it’s with Rachel McAdams and probably Dane Cook and Freddie Prinze Jr! And did you know that, this December 2010, “Love just signed a lease?” And you’d say “go fuck yourself!” and I’d say “I do” and that’d be that. But no, this shit had to happen and now it’s real and with every romantic story like this, some girl is going to get bloated with hope and I get a little more pained.

I will prevent this from happening. Here are some warning signs you are falling into a real life romantic comedy:

-Your landlord is Mark Ruffalo.

-You are overlooking a city/your hometown with somebody from your childhood that looks like Mark Ruffalo.

-Your boyfriend is a terrible person not because he hits you or is racist, but because he wears sunglasses on his head or other fashion/social faux pas. 

- You tell your boyfriend’s best friend a story about your childhood that is slightly personal while you are drinking white wine.

- A ‘bad boy’ who is bad because he has a motorcycle stands outside your house standing by said motorcycle, attracted to you even though you’ve only talked once.

-You have an intense, hateful relationship with somebody because they are slightly chauvinistic and you haven’t had sex in a year. You spar back and forth sassily instead of actually hating him and he is Gerard Butler.

- You have slow danced to no music with some guy who wears sweaters and is not your boyfriend.

- Your job consists of you going to an office and talking to your sassy best friend instead of doing work. The phone sometimes rings.

- Everytime you speak, you use immense exposition to explain the situation.

- Paul Rudd.

A true mark of character is how you handle somebody else’s really good news.

Ah, Julia Roberts.  America’s Sweetheart! Tom Hanks with Tits and Teeth! It was she who gave us entirely magical, entirely wrong ideas about hookers and redheads. However, Julia didn’t always just eat pray and love her way to the top. No- she had to kiss a whole bunch of frogs to get there. And by frogs I mean unattractive, bisexual actors who proved their dads WRONG by managing to snag a role as leading man next to Miss Julia. As Roberts got more famous, however, the people she made out with got more attractive. And that..that is the mark of true success, Hollywood or not.

1. Adam Storke, Mystic Pizza.

This is the first movie Julia Roberts ever had as one of the leads. I don’t know what it’s about but my guess would be a magical pizza makes a girl a slut. Anyway, Adam hasn’t done any films since his role as “Charles Gordon Windsor Jr.” or “Clearly Rich Guy.” However, when I googled him this is what came up:

SPOOKY!!!!!

2. Kevin Anderson, Sleeping with the Enemy

If you haven’t seen this movie, you should. It’s like that movie Enough with Jennifer Lopez except it’s with Julia. This guy beats her, she leaves him, than immediately falls in love with the ’80s

NOT SPOOKY, BUT GROSS!

3. Ed Harris, Stepmom

This movie is depressing. Nothing like your mom dying at Christmas. Anyway, Ed Harris is kind of attractive for an old man, if you are into older men who look like they are your friend’s dad who coaches high school field hockey, wears Champion Sweatshirts all the time, and watches you when you walk around in your Soffe Shorts.

NOT GROSS, BUT CONCERNING!

4. Hugh Grant, Notting Hill

I couldn’t forget any of her classic turns as a rom com queen, now could I? Especially ones with basset hounds you find attractive, even though you know they cheat on Elizabeth Hurley!

NOT CONCERNING, BUT MEAN!

5. Aaron Eckheart, Erin Brokovich

Aaron is hot. Really he is. But how hot he is when you have to kiss him like this?

NOT MEAN, BUT BEAUTIFUL!

6. Cast of Charlotte’s Web

She played a fucking spider in Charlotte’s Web. Spiders aren’t sexy, and she probably didn’t make out with anybody,  but look at this cast! Accomplishment in itself!

7. Two Hot Pieces in Eat, Pray, Love.

This movie’s going to give a lot of people reason to get divorces, gain ten pounds, and book Carnival Cruises. But I promise you, women who are the kind of people to order things on QVC and send Christmas Cards to their dentists, you will not make out with these guys:

Unless of course, you spend 20 years making out with dogs for money! The Julia Roberts waaaay!

Whenever I see a girl sloppily making out with some bologna sandwich she just met at a bar I’m in, I can’t help but scream: Dear Jesus, what am I doing wrong?! I mean, I’m just a small-town girl who wants to play face bumper cars with some dude who tells me his favorite book is “pretty much anything by Dan Brown” while he shoves his hand up my skirt. That way, when I call my girlfriends the next morning and bitch about how ‘every man is such a dick!’ I can remember how good I was at making out with a whole slew of them to The Black Eyed Peas!  But I don’t want to be alone, why am I alone?! What in the Disney Princess hell am I doing wroooong?!?!?!??! 

Wanna know you’re single, you sassy basket of trash? Perhaps you could use some lessons on bar etiquette:

1. It’s my birthday! Better wear a sash, a tiara, three mardi gras necklaces, forty glo-sticks and a large car horn that informs everyone in my zip code!

Hey pretty lady. Take a quick note of everybody in the bar tonight. Fun Fact: They’ve all been born too! Nobody gives a shit about your birthday! The fact that you’ve managed to not die for 365 days might actually be an impressive feat for you, but all it does for us the amusement we feel watching you try to make a birthday cake headband look sexy. And the other thing it does is say this to every guy you meet: “I am in the mood to drink excessively tonight. Hear that, fellows? My inhibitions are as tiny as my skirt! Given the emotional maturity you must surely understand I lack given the fact that I am adorned in tinsel, I am the perfect  candidate for a one-night stand!” You heard it here, chica. For your next birthday, perhaps wear this, too.:

2. SHOTS! Let’s do SHOTS! SHOTS, Liz! Shootsss!

Now, there’s nothing wrong with shots. And if it’s a special occasion, or you’re with good friends, or it’s just good alcohol,  you go ahead and take those shots. And control yourself. Don’t take four shots, don’t scream about how your’re  takinngg shotttssss!!! from across the bar, which is basically the feline equivalent of spraying the room with your mating scent. Control yourself.

Oh, and a shot of Jameson is a shot. A shot is not a shooter. Nothing makes you look more mature and dateable than spending six dollars on a A Screaming Orgasm, A Redheaded Slut, or A Possessed Vagina. If you’re going to go for one of these, try one that doesn’t have the words ‘i’m a whore’ in the title. That being said, you want to go ahead and scream “let’s do shooters!”, you go ahead, I just hope you brought your Plan B with you.

3. If it’s blended and pink, don’t drink.

What are you, at a barbecue? 

4. You wear any of these kinds of dresses:

C’mon- you’ve got fashion sense! And it’s not From the pages of “Easy at Seventeen” magazine!

These are the three dresses that seem ‘fashion forward’ i.e. “sold at Forever 21” on both high schoolers and 25 year old. They’re seen at bars and bar mitzvahs. Pair these with strappy sandals and some kind of chunky necklace, and you’ve got your three-piece uniform for St. Boring Unoriginal Catholic School For the Emotionally Immature. 

5. Your phone case, your boobs, or your eyes are bedazzled. 

You know what else is probably bedazzled? I’m gonna go with your thong.

6. You hump your friends on the dance floor because it totally looks hot.

Why do you insist on sexually molesting your friends? Does it prove that you are a good dancer? No. Does it prove you have daddy issues? Maybe. Does it prove you are DTF? Oh, hold on, I am distracted that you are grinding your pelvis on your friend’s backside to Kanye West.

7. You constantly scream “girls night outttt!!! Woooo!” and now I just hope it’s a slasher film and you will go to the bathroom and some deranged mask will stab you in a creative manner to orchestral music. But no, you just leave the bathroom and dance over to your friends, waving your arms and saying ‘girl’s night outtt, girls night outtt!’ over and over like a zombie but of course I can’t sever your brain stem but then you find 23 year old mutual analyst Jarrod and then you shut up for a while against his leg. Because it’s girl’s night out.

Ugh. I’ll never find a guy. Guess I’ll just spend another Monday night alone, baking cookies, frosting the cookies, IMDBing Reese Witherspoon, and wearing an adult Disney Princess Costume. Because guys? They just never call. Oh, maybe it’s because I dropped my phone in my Buttery Nipple. I don’t know if it was the shooter or the body part.

I want to like you, men of the world. Really. At this point, my standards aren’t even unreasonably high. Look sharp in a pair of Buddy Holly glasses, have a tattoo or three, or even a own a cute dog, and I’m sold to at least converse a while. Seriously. All of that shit about how you are ‘self-employed,’ or how you keep in close contact with your schizophrenic ex-all of that comes later. When it comes to first impressions, a fitted plaid shirt or a good smile is all I need to start. 

However. An outfit speaks louder than words.  And some of these just scream STOP! DOUCHE ALERT! Before you even open your mouth. You’ve been warned.

1.

Fedoras!

You wear this? You might as well be this:

Aww! You listen to Jason Mraz?  And the Rat Pack?! That’s great! You have such diverse taste in music my widdle iddle angel! I can’t wait to see your cover band play at the local college bar! Pair this with a solid white button down and a slick black tie and guess what? You’re still not Colin Farrell! You’re just a recently-divorced/recently graduated baby trying to learn how to dress like an adult. I am so proud.

2.

Man Bracelets. These include wooden/silver ones.

Oh, sweet! You are a rock star! Just like Avril Fucking Lavigne! You don’t even have to open your mouth and I will assume that you say ‘man’ after every sentence, have or have once had the facial hair of Dave Navarro and probably think taking a Valium your friend had leftover from dental surgery is a crazy night!

3. 

Fucking scarves!

Look at this douchebag! Let me guess. He graduated from a business school in Massachusetts before moving to Brooklyn and just getting, like, really into the culture. His Iphone has 4,000 apps including the one you can fake-snort cocaine on, and his T-shirt is advertising a fake rugby camp Abercrombie and Fitch made up. Yep. I am going to absolutely sleep with you. I understand some people take wearing scarves more seriously, like with Members Only leather jackets and cable-knit sweaters. Because they are fashion-forward and feel so much. But I really don’t want to see 800 of your shitty short films you made in art school, so I won’t be sleeping with you either.

4. 

Fucking Coral!

Nobody looks good in coral. I get that you know what equity means, and that you shop at J Crew and have lots of pastel ties that have little whales on them and seer sucker, but nobody looks good wearing coral. Except old people, and they have nothing to live for.

5. 

Khaki shorts. Flip Flops. EVER.

I can’t even believe this doesn’t go without saying, but I went to the bar last night and there was too many men wearing either of these things outside of their beach house, their basement, or their Wii. I understand that you’ve seen more pixelated breasts than real ones, and you are very good at Splinter Cell, but you don’t have to go parading this around your body. Do everybody, and yourself, a favor. Don’t even go outside wearing this- just buy yourself a lifetime subscription to Playboy and get your phone out: Mama, prepare the basement! Baby boy’s comin’ home!

You want my advice? Get a good fitting shirt, iron it, and maybe look like you give a shit. Then, you can not have a job, carry severe emotional issues, and ‘want to change’ or whatever. But some clothes, they’re just unforgiveable.

I think I’ve been a little harsh lately. Perhaps I shouldn’t be so negative all of the time, you know? Because being a dried- up prune bitch is totally like, not in my ten year plan. That being said, I think there are a couple of young girls in Hollywood right now who are on the brink of hopefully stopping the star-fucker machine from churning out (1) WB/CW graduates who spend their time off posing for Maxim and having sex with that guy from Good Charlotte. or (2) Ellen Page is like, the indie chick, right? Maybe some funny girls who aren’t on US weekly every week talking about their bikini bodies? Or at least trying not to screw up too much. 

So this is a nice post devoted to them. Sort of. Sort of.

Lizzy Caplan:

GOOD JOB: PARTY DOWN, Mean Girls, True Blood.

BAD JOB: Cloverfield, Sexy poses for Stuff Magazine, My Best Friend’s Girl (because she didn’t murder Dane Cook)

Kat Dennings: 

GOOD JOB: Her head isn’t bigger than her body, so she has to probably hear how she’s curvy’ all the time. She’s not. She’s normal. The 40-year-old Virgin was great. Nick and Norah’s Ultimate Playlist (not the movie, but her character. extra points for kissing Michael Cera instead of making a wise-crack on his acting range)

BAD JOB: House Bunny. That movie is about a Playboy bunny going to a sorority house. Why don’t you just throw in terrorism so it can just have EVERYTHING I HATE?

Mae Whitman

GOOD JOB: Arrested Development, Scott Piglrim vs. the World, Independence Day (a million points for being Bill Pullman’s kid). So, I guess cool girls are in movies with Michael Cera? Is that my thing, or a thing?

BAD JOB: Nights in Rodanthe. SPOILER: Did you know that Richard Gere dies in that movie FROM A MUDSLIDE? Good job on your natural disaster creativity, Nicky Sparks!

Anna Kendrick:

GOOD JOB: Up in the Air, Scott Pilgrim vs. the World , Rocket Science

BAD JOB: Do I even need to say it? Say it. Just Say it. Vampire.

Abigail Breslin : 

GOOD JOB: Little Miss Sunshine, Zombieland.

BAD JOB: I haaaaaate kids. She could be like a talented, comic Dakota Fanning though- after Dakota Fanning surely makes a sex tape with Miley Cyrus.

Emma Stone.

GOOD JOB:  Zombieland, Superbad. The only person who can prove if Michael Cera and my babe Jesse Eisenberg are in fact, two different people. 

BAD JOB:  Maxim, the House Bunny, and now that ‘Scarlett Letter’ parody Easy A. So s Less tits and more wits, lady, we’ll be fine. (Although, a reader did make an excellent point. A high school parody on The Scarlett Letter could be one of the best literary high school interpretations since 10 Things I Hate About You. Or it could bring women back fifteen hundred years. Whatever, you know I’ll see it.)

Honorable mentions:

-Carey Mulligan, Emma Watson, Mia Wasikowska, and Chloe Moretz have all made good movies. They have not however, shown staying power. Yet. 

Look at this fucking critic. Oh well.

You know, now that I think about it, not all women are alien beings that wish to die wearing a wedding dress and curled up in a cave of shoe boxes, clutching, oh, the children! Think of the children! Some of them are pretty cool. By now, most of us know that the female brain is not composed of the candy lollipop cloud of lipgloss and grilled chicken most women’s media would like us to believe. However, I will admit that there are things that are just engrained in our genetic code for us to be drawn to. And by ‘things’ I mean ‘stupid shit.’ Very feminine, very girly things that I think- by default- all women are conditioned to love. Now, I’m not proud of these things. But I do know what they are. 

1. Any salad with the following ingredients: gorgonzola, dried cranberries, pears, walnuts, pecans, or goat cheese. Extra points for the word ‘bistro’ in the name of the salad itself. Double triple orgasm if there is ‘salmon’ or ‘raspberry champagne vinagrette’ or some shit on it. 

This beats the fuck out of me, but every time I go to lunch and think ‘man I really want some mac and cheese or something that comes with fries’ I see this stupid salad- which, by the way, is on every fucking menu- and it just stops me like a deer. My muscles tense up and I remember the soothing bed of Boston lettuce it will no doubt come on, its sweet green leaves siren calling me away from other yummier dishes. I remember how my pants won’t fit themselves. And I find myself, almost robotically, ordering the salad which is always mediocre at best. Yet it always fools me. Always. And holy shit- goat cheese. You could put goat cheese on the hairy, sweaty chest of a fat man, and there is not one girl that would not just lick that shit up. Goat cheese is food crack for girls. I’m not even kidding. I wrote ‘goat cheese’ and started to scratch my neck.

2. The last five minutes of Sleepless in Seattle. 

I don’t care what I am watching. I don’t care if it’s something cool and acceptable like a Coen Brothers movie, a new episode of a good show, or if Obama’s devoting a press conference solely to me. If I am scrolling through channels and I happen to come upon the part in the movie where Meg Ryan is about to enter the Empire State building on Valentine’s Day, my ass is sold. You cannot pry me from that couch if you were a blow torch. My heart begins to work the muscles it’s not used to working. I start to feel hope and rainbows. And when Tom Hanks comes through that elevator, every girl on God’s green earth lets out a tiny, cat-like ‘awwww’ that only other girls and specific dogs can hear. And when it’s over, after I feel in love and alive, I sit in a pile of sad, gnawing at myself like a heroin addict who has the deep dark feelings come after a high. Every time. 

3. Items of clothing that will give you the appearance of being French.

I totally understand why one would want to look like a French girl. French girls in photographs look gorgeous- in a cafe eating a buttery croissant with their flat ass, wearing striped shirts and ballet slippers and not having a care in the world. However, most French girls are not French girls in photographs. And most girls do not look like expensive trench coats in good backlighting. Yet here I am, buying this button-down I intend on tucking into ‘classic capris’. I will wing tip my eyeliner. I will imagine that I am having an affair with a 36-year-old Spainard. I will wear a beret on my fat, stupid head. I will spend the night in a country saturated with “The Jersey Shore,” online dating, and 46-inch pizzas. I will look like a moron. I will not wear that shirt again. Six months later, I will buy a neckerchief and make out with a guy named Scooter.

4. Sex and The City

 Thanks to a glamorous urban horse and her three aging groupies, girls everywhere have learned the importance of eating lunch out and meeting men with reasonably prominent jawlines.It has given us the hope that one day, maybe we could grow up and be a forty year old hooker with a slammin’ body, or an uptight ginger power lesbian, or a headband wearing Protestant. If we made enough sassy puns, maybe we could work very little hours for our very large apartments and seemingly never call our parents or have parents or even have family. But really- it’s Carrie we admire. Carrie Bradshaw had sex with all those guys but had sex with that one guy a whole bunch of times spaced out and then he was all like “I love you forever!” and we were like ‘oh i will wear stilettos and go on datez like Carrie!” The chick who wore birds in her hair and newspaper dresses and liked that dude who had a size for a name and caterpillar eyebrows, but okay. Relatable one it is. We are all Carrie Bradshaw, because we are all single at one point, and we are all sad at one point, and somehow these things are worthy to us once they are combined. Seriously- they spoon-feed this shit into our mouth and we lap it up like yogurt. I can’t even pretend I don’t.

5. Knowing ‘what happened last night?!’.

We might be friends. We might barely know each other. But if you: have a terrible break-up story, an uncomfortable hook-up with somebody I know,  have a  new boyfriend/girlfriend, have a mental breakdown or a drug addiction- I will listen to all of your stories. I don’t even care about you, to be honest. I think you’re a shitty human being. I think you wear too many jean skirts. If you are telling me a story about how you are nutso and got dumped, I will secretly not be surprised. If you are telling me a story about how you met this ‘great new guy’ I will be thinking how it’s not going to last. But I will be interested. I will listenlike I’m some sort of dickhead detective, piecing together the fragile pieces of your Facebook saturated life. Because you are a car crash and I cannot help myself. I am probably a lonely, pathetic person. We all are probably. And I feel better knowing that I did not spend my Saturday evening sexting my ex-boyfriend. And I can sleep at night. Cruelly but soundly.

Narrowly missing the list: smoothies, declaring that women are sexy but that they aren’t lesbians for thinking that, painting your nails with polish that looks black but is not actually black, black-and-white posters, buying winter coats.