Damn you! You made me love you. I’ve been consciously resisting you since the late ’90s, when your chains starting popping up everywhere, putting my favorite high school coffee shop — Seattle Espresso — out of business. At first, I hated you on principle. I was young and idealistic and my favorite movie was “Reality Bites.” Then I got older and just hated you because your coffee sucks. Sorry, Jessica. Don’t get mad. I was a barista on and off in my late teens and early twenties. I know what a shot of fresh-ground, well-pressed espresso should taste like. I’m just gonna say it, Starbucks: your espresso tastes like burnt poop. (Full disclosure: I admit to, in times of extreme caffeine deprivation or desperation, drinking Starbucks. But this is only in extreme cases or when my dad takes me there because he loves your coffee.)
My half-hearted Starbucks boycott ended this weekend when I was starving and popped into one of your stores for a snack. I was thinking I would get a Kind bar to hold me over until I found something acceptable to eat and there they were staring up at me, looking all sexy, begging to be tasted. Your salad bowls. Hearty veggie and brown rice, zesty chicken and black bean and chicken and greens caesar salad bowl. Keep reading »
Dear I’m Too Kind To Use Your Real Name,
I am writing this letter because I’m hoping I can prevent you from ever sending another unsolicited picture of your naked penis to another human being again for the rest of your life. When I clicked on an email in my inbox with the subject line “need some advice,” I wasn’t expecting to see FOUR pictures of a stranger’s penis. I get a fair number of emails from readers and sometimes they want advice (not that I’m qualified to give any), and so I had no reason to believe that your email would be so wildly inappropriate.
In your email, you asked me for advice about products to make your penis larger. You complained that it’s “quite short” and “very skinny” and that when it gets erect it only gets slightly bigger and not much thicker. And then, anonymous dick pic sender, you gave me measurements. Measurements! I mean, really?
After I picked my jaw up off the floor — I didn’t want my face to remain in Exasperated Snarl Expression for the rest of my life — my attention was drawn to perhaps the most puzzling line in your email: ” I was going to send you pictures of when I have an erection but it is quite embarrassing,” you wrote. Keep reading »
Dear Couple Sucking Face,
The first time I saw you, in Manhattan’s Union Square station, I thought maybe you were saying goodbye, for like, a long time. How else to explain the five minutes of intense, face-sucking, ass-grabbing making out you two were getting into? As you stood there, right where the station splits off between the N, R and L trains, hundreds of commuters strode by, many of them transfixed by your tongues darting in and out of each other’s mouths. I stopped and watched for a second, too, concocting a fictional back story for the strange configuration in front of me. He worked in finance, and was heading down to Wall Street to trade some futures or something. She’d been visiting from out of town, flying back to her home in Minneapolis, to a soul-sucking job as an insurance adjuster. This makeout session was the culmination of five days of total bliss, sealed with promises to return as soon as possible.
But oh, I was so wrong about you two. Keep reading »
Dear Abercrombie & Fitch CEO Mike Jeffries,
I used to see your brand walk up and down the halls of my high school way back in the day. Before I really even knew who you were, there you were — in the form of jeans, shirts and other fashion statements of the late ’90s. At the time, I thought I hated you for the simple reason that the popular kids seemed to have a monopoly on you, and in my mind, popular was synonymous with evil. But, I’m older and wiser now, and know it’s not the popular kids that I loathe.
It’s your “you’re not good enough” mentality. Keep reading »
Dear Tori Spelling,
I try to ignore it whenever I see gossip stories about you. Why? Because you’re doin’ you and I’m doin’ me and what you do when you’re doin’ you is none of my biz. Usually this arrangement works just fine for you and me. But then yesterday, I got curious and watched a Vine video you posted on Twitter titled “This is how we sleep.”
It was a clever caption. It would engage even the most disinterested web surfer such as myself. I wish I never clicked on it. It made me feel deeply uncomfie, first and foremost, because I don’t want to see your husband naked in bed making sexy eyes at you. Ick. Weird. Then it pans to your sleeping dog and kids. Ok. Whatever. A lot of peeps sleep with their dogs and kids. I’m not judging.
The thing that made me regret watching your vid was the FUCKING CHICKEN IN YOUR BED. Tori, No. I know that you’ve been a celebrity your whole life, and you grew up with a warped sense of reality, but you must know that having a chicken in your bed is FUCKING GROSS. Keep reading »
Last night, Jay-Z went into the studio with Timbaland and Swizz Beatz and recorded a new song that he released a few hours later. “Open Letter” has a relatively simple, but completely hot beat and features Hov rapping about his ownership of the Brooklyn Nets and he and Beyonce’s recent controversial trip to Cuba.
“Boy from the hood but got White House clearance / Sorry y’all, I don’t agree with y’all appearance / Politicians never did shit for me / Except lie to me, distort history / Wanna give me jail time and a fine / Fine, let me commit a real crime.”
Hot 97 played the track over and over and over again this morning and I gotta tell you, I didn’t mind the break from Kendrick Lamar and the latest Rihanna track. When Jay’s on the radio, y’all gon learn today! Listen below! [Hot 97]