Have you seen graffiti that’s kind of sweet (even if it is against the law)? Send us a pic at firstname.lastname@example.org. Keep reading »
Internet bullying isn’t just for kids anymore, grown-ups are responsible for the growing trend of online torture. A gaggle of scorned ex-girlfriends have set up websites, revised online profiles, sold their stuff on eBay, and posted unflattering accounts of their experiences on the internet in an attempt to wreck their former loved ones love lives. And how could we forget Tricia Walsh-Smith, who’s posted her third YouTube video slamming her ex, above. Why are all these beautiful women getting so ugly? Keep reading »
I love theme parties. The theme for jail visits is “Modest Dress,” defined by the Jail Administration as no visible shoulders, cleavage, knees or toes. No sweatpants, nothing tight. I’ve discovered that they only seem to notice stretchy-tight — tailored-tight doesn’t read the same way– so I dress the way sluts did in my mother’s day: pencil skirt, satin blouse with buttons and darts. I put heels in my purse and wear sneakers because I have to take two buses and two trains. Jail is a large imposing building in the middle of nowhere.
At the main entrance to jail there are lockers for purses, coats, wallets and keys. I give my ID to Officer Hunk, who is 6’4” and bass-voiced and all the ladies flirt with him. He checks it against Darling Boyfriend’s visitor list and hands me a receipt in triplicate.
He’s awfully pale from being indoors. Behind him is the unit where he spends all of his time. It is two-tiered and looks like on TV.
The counter is on his side too and we perch on it, our legs side by side, shouting to be heard through the grate in the frame of the window. Visits are 15 minutes long but if there’s no one waiting they can be much longer. It’s up to Curly to decide which visiting bay to shut down and when. Curly has a little crush on me so while the guards chase out other visitors Darling and I are left alone. We talk about what we’re reading, a trip we have planned for Vancouver this summer since my mom thinks he’s there now. I notice anew that he has the most perfect ears and artistic hands. These observations are accompanied by achingly physical recollections of private moments. We get ninety whole minutes together but eventually the knock comes. It’s hard to leave but best to exit promptly. We blow kisses, mouth ‘I love you’s. I leave jail grinning.
I’ve been reading this book I Was Told There’d Be Cake, a collection of personal essays by Sloane Crosley, for the last few months. Though I think the book, in general, is a little “try too hard”, there’s one story in particular that really struck a chord with me. “You On A Stick” is about the time that Sloane’s best friend from her youth called her up out of the blue, after not having spoken for years, and asked her to be a bridesmaid in her wedding. The essay ends up being about a lot of issues associated with being a bridesmaid — from the mundane and annoying tasks associated with the duty, like making a veil out of wrapping paper at the bridal shower, to the more serious issue of female friendships and what they mean. The latter hit home for me though — for the record, my bridesmaids will never have to make an asinine hat for me out of ribbons unless they put a gun to my head and force me to wear one — because I’ve been having a really hard time with this particular part of getting married. Keep reading »
Bad dates suck. But letâ€™s face it, after a certain length of time, they can be pretty funny in retrospect. In honor of the grand tradition of laughing uproariously at disastrous dates, weâ€™re taking submissions for The Bad Date Hall Of Fame. Send yours to email@example.com â€“ and if we publish yours, weâ€™ll send you a pair of Frisky underpants. After the jump, a bad date needs a ride, forgets his wallet, and does his best duck impression. Keep reading »
I have a confession. After spending the majority of my life deeming Valentine’s Day for suckers and championing all the single ladies, I have become a Smug Married.
Following this startling revelation, I got to thinking: how did I get here and why? Like all afflictions, there was a stage of denial. If I was a Smug Married, the single women in my life must have turned me into one. After all, I was the girl who had a two-year engagement and could count on one hand how many times I had used the word fiancé. I had spent the majority of my prime dating years as Single, Loud and Proud. And I looked down at women who only befriended the opposite sex, secretly labeling them women-haters. I was a girls’ girl—the friend you called for Sunday brunch, “E! Live from the Red Carpet” specials and the “Sex and the City” finale.
Keep reading »
Who gets on your nerves? If you said your spouse, you agree with most married people. (If you are single, like myself, letâ€™s take this moment to laugh at the little things that annoy us since we arenâ€™t contractually obligated to them for life.) According to a study conducted by the Institute for Social Research at the University of Michigan, the longer a couple is married, the more things they find annoying about each other. Aw, isnâ€™t love grand? While couples in their 20â€™s and 30â€™s may be vocal and try to work things out, 40-plus people just seem to give up and get along. This behavior begs the question: does keeping quiet make things better or worse? Either way, youâ€™re bound to be bothered by your ball and chain. [Afroromance] Keep reading »
My two and a half year old son has taken to calling himself â€œMcLovinâ€™â€. Needless to say, that is not his name.
This new moniker originated courtesy of my husband, R. who, clearly in a moment of amazing judgment, decided to watch a portion of Superbad with our toddler son. As if exposing a toddler to this generationâ€™s Porkyâ€™s wasnâ€™t moronic enough, neglecting to remember that he recently has been parrot-like in his repeating of everything he hears just adds insult to the cinematic injury. Keep reading »
In Thrillist’s Top Five Things That Your Dude Is Totally Going To Want this week, they’ve got a link to a site that measures a guy’s dateability. I discovered they have a similar quiz for women and decided to take it. As you can see, I am a 6.38, which seems a little low. Catherine was a 7.00 — I wonder what she did to deserve that? That said, I took the guy’s quiz for my feef and he got a 5.88 so technically he is dating out of his league. Or I’m dating below mine. Whatever. I hate this quiz. [Hellarity.org] Keep reading »