“I’m sooo busy!”
I’m soooo over this phrase. So over it I want to throw something when a person says it. Usually at them. I’m sooo busy is code for, “I don’t care enough about you to remember to text or call or see you.” Telling someone you’re sooo busy isn’t an excuse. It’s an insult.
You know who’s busy? Doctors. Doctors are busy. You know who else? New mothers. I would not trade places with them for a minute. Everyone else? Nope. You’re really not that busy.
We all want to think we’re that busy. But, we’re usually busy playing Candy Crush or perusing other people’s “busy” lives on Facebook or watching “Scandal.” We’ve become too lazy to pick up the phone and get back to someone. Keep reading »
Today is March 14th, Pi Day, and in honor of this nerdiest of holidays, we thought we’d help you infuse some math swagger into your flirting game. Because come on, what is sexier than math? Nothing. Nothing is sexier than math. Here are 10 pickup lines sure to charm your way into a hot date, or at least score you a sexy romp on your horizontal axis, if you know what we mean…
In my two-part travel sex episode of Funny Girl Sex Guide, I rather cynically declared that the entire male population of New York City is unfuckable. That, I am willing to admit, was a bit of an exaggeration. Or at least I hope that it is, because I’ve decided that it’s impractical and silly to rely on my relatively infrequent travel schedule as the only opportunity I take to get laid. Therefore, I’m in the market for a fuck buddy, aka someone to sex on the regular without commitment. While I keep my eye peeled for possible candidates, I’m reminding myself, and now you, of six very important rules for having a successful friends with benefits relationship. Watch above!
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One of the awesome things about having a new book out [The Good Mother Myth: Redefining Motherhood to Fit Reality] is that sometimes people actually want to talk to you about it! I’ve been having a blast the past couple of months traveling across the country doing bookstore readings and signings. Each place I visit, there’s always a handful of folks who come up and want to talk all things motherhood.
In New York City, many of the people in the audience wanted to touch on how the media portrays women — particularly those who are mothers — versus men. In Portland, Oregon, I heard from women who were increasingly frustrated by the work/home divide and the tired notion of “having it all.” Chicago found me chatting with young college students who had come to the book reading as part of a class field trip. We talked about their relationships with their own mothers and the concerns they had about becoming mothers themselves.
And then, there was book club. Last week, I was invited to join in for a local book club that had read my book for the month of February. I was pretty excited. I arrived at the host’s house, eager to hear what everyone thought of the book. After some snacking, drinking and a bunch of chit-chatting, they started to dig into the book. They had some questions for me, ranging from how I got the idea to create the book, to whether or not I used a pen name. (Let’s just say that if I had chosen a pen name, I probably would have gone with one that gets pronounced and written correctly at least 50 percent of the time …)
I also got to hear reactions to specific essays in the book, which is always nice. One that stuck out to the women in this group in particular was Liz Henry’s “The Macaroni and Cheese Dilemma.” Liz’s essay talks about choosing to have an abortion, and why that choice was the best for her family. Keep reading »
Gillian Anderson aside, we all have imperfections that define us as much as our positive points. The biggest part of growing up is not only recognizing those flaws, but making an effort to fix them. It’s not an achievable goal, mind you (how many old, bitter assholes do you know?), but it’s the effort that counts. It’s what sets us apart from apes and Donald Trump — the ability to recognize where personal change is necessary and then setting that change into motion.
But even for the strongest-willed person, there are some personality traits that seem damn near impossible to shed. Read all five flaws on Cracked…
It’s completely normal and natural to complain about your job, even to hate it at times. When you spend 40+ hours a week doing anything, it doesn’t matter what, you’re going to have your own special brand of grievances — from the fact that your boss wants you to fax every email she receives while she’s on vacation to the baby opossum infestation in your classroom. Yep, I have experienced both. It’s normal to be filled with murderous rage about these things. (If those feelings are persistent and pervasive,I suggest you look for a new job.)
The key to being content at your job, I’ve found, is to constantly remind yourself of all the much worse things you can be doing to earn your living. Whenever I feel myself about to go off the rails over something stupid, I simply remind myself that it’s BTCDD, short for Better Than Changing Dog Diapers. This is something I’ve done for pay. And seriously, it was the most awful/degrading/depressing/disgusting way to earn $12 an hour. I’ve had a million odd jobs and changed careers three time, so that’s saying A LOT. As far as I’m concerned, there is no worse fate than taking a velcro nappy off a pug, and replacing its poopy sanitary napkin insert with a fresh one. To put all of our job annoyances in perspective, here are some more of the the most awful things I’ve done for money… Keep reading »
When GQ and I met up at a trendy Italian restaurant on our second date, he immediately reminded me how different he is from other guys I’ve dated. He kissed me hello, opened the door for me, put his hand on the small of my back and led me inside the restaurant. While we waited for the hostess to look up our reservation, he leaned against the stand, and looked into my eyes like he’d taken seduction cues from Ryan Gosling in “Crazy Stupid Love.”
When we got to our table, he helped me take off my coat and pushed my chair in underneath me. I didn’t even know people still did that; I’ve certainly never had the pleasure of dating anyone who engaged in chivalry. Over dinner, we swapped tales of teenage rebellion. I told him all about my childhood bedroom, which had a door that led right outside, and how I’d sneak out to round third base with my boyfriend in the woods near my house. He told me about the time he and his friends got caught drinking at a football game in high school and the principal insisted on calling his very conservative, very strict parents to come pick him up. Our conversation continued, and we even got into some deeper topics like religion, abortion and health care, sharing our viewpoints and seeing if our perspectives matched up— they did. I’d been wondering if GQ is religious, so I saw an open window when we started talking about how I gave up biting my nails for Lent. Keep reading »
I wasn’t entirely honest with the last person I dated. Our relationship, when it started, was a new, quivery thing, something that I had to ease myself into after a prolonged breakup. I was working through lingering feelings for my ex, along with the attendant baggage. The new boyfriend wanted complete and total honesty, which I wasn’t able to give to him. I understand and appreciate the desire to be totally honest when it relates to the new, romantic entanglement right in front of you. This is natural, this is normal, this is fine. Keep reading »