Allow me to be all at once bold and competitive: I’ve got the worst gas of anyone you’ve ever met. If society was somehow different, and my … gift, let’s call it, was better valued, I would be your Queen of Farts. I would command attention, take down armies. I would redraw the lines of femininity. I would be worshiped and adored. None of this is likely to happen, though, is it? So here I am, in this world, in this society, in which (I dislike the words “gassy” and “farty”) a gastrointestinally-challenged woman has a tough row to hoe. Consider the sheer, exhausting effort that goes into covering up your scent. My plight: I’ve got an ass like a machine gun, people. And it’s on a mission to ruin my life. Keep reading »
I spend an hour a week in therapy. When I’m not working through current traumas, like that woman who gave me the stink-eye at the grocery store, I am stuck firmly in the past. Yes, I lived through many scarring childhood experiences from which I thought I’d never recover. There was the time in 9th grade when this jerk in Earth Sciences put tape in my hair. And every single time my mother shouted “Leave the door open!” after me when I went to hang out in my bedroom with a boy.
But for you, dear Frisky readers, I have decided to enact a spiritual sage-burning of the blogger variety and admit there are some things I just need to get over. What follows are the scarring childhood experiences that I, along with the rest of the Frisky staff, are finally ready to put past us… Keep reading »
Hands down, the best thing about working at The Frisky is our amazing readers. We so heart all of your witty, thoughtful, and informative comments — heck, we even appreciate the mean ones. Sometimes, we can’t help but wonder about the faces behind the avatars. So we decided to bring back our regular column where we learn all about a Frisky reader. After the jump, meet Danielle Nathan, one of our most prolific commenters. Keep reading »
I’ve talked about my often-disastrous relationships in a number of my columns, and every time I do, I get dozens of messages from people asking me to elaborate. Not that I’m an expert — it’s more like how you see a guy come screaming out of the woods covered in bees and you ask him where he found the hive, so you can avoid it.
So, the most common question I get (besides “Will you please stop sending me pictures of your penis?”) is “How do I know if this is the one?” which I think is a stealth way of asking me, “How can I avoid the hellish divorce that haunts your memories?”
Well, if you want to avoid the bees, I say you should always keep in mind … Keep reading »
Smooth guys are overrated. And while not every awkward guy is amazing, as a group, they have my vote. I’m so confident about them, I married one. On our first date he stood in front of me, cradling a giant sunflower, and said, “I knew this was going to be awkward, so I’ve been practicing standing awkwardly in front of you.” He was perfect.
I listen as my friends tell me sad stories about the cool, cocky, fiery, loud guys they date. The guys they fight with other girls over. The guys who somehow always end up ghosting them, just when they’re starting to fall. The guys who play in bands or have a signature shoe style. The guys who are never awkward and would never, ever be played by Hugh Grant in a movie about their life. I bite my lip. I don’t want to be preachy. But really, inside, I’m dying to recommend they date someone, well, more awkward. After the jump, why they’re the best. Keep reading »