Forget Christmas, forget Halloween, forget the Fourth of July … Daylight Savings Time is officially the best day of the year. I’m not sure why our government doesn’t recognize its awesomeness and give us a day off to celebrate that we made it the eff through winter, but maybe it’s not too late for the GOP to add that to their platform. Because if you think about it, Daylight Savings brings us so much joy — when we turn our clocks forward tomorrow, Sunday, March 11, we’ll wake up and it will be spring, people, it will be spring. Read more …
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 »
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 »
Being gorgeous sounds pretty great. It sounds like exactly what a woman might want to be. When you’re gorgeous, the world is supposedly your oyster. Whatever that means. More like, the world is your lobster, because people want to buy you expensive stuff. But is being incredibly hot really all that it’s cracked up to be? I think not! You look shocked. But read on. I will give you 10 solid reasons why I’m glad I’m not a perfect 10. Keep reading »
Dating is a topic that will never tire amongst girlfriends. Somehow there are always different scenarios and circumstances with new men that are the topic of most cocktail conversations. As much as our mothers may deny it, we are in a whole different dating game. Today’s twenty-something woman can’t expect men to be beating down their door begging to take them out on a date. In today’s day and age, it is pretty normal for the female to make the first move. I recently wrote an article on how women should approach a guy that they are interested in. I then took that a step farther and gave a list of specific ways to break the ice based on your personality. Quirky? Shy? Smart? Anyone can play to their strengths and successfully spark up a conversation with a new prospect. Continuing with this theme, I thought it may be helpful to list out a few things that guys do NOT want to hear. Whether you’re meeting a guy for the first time or have been dating for a while, try to avoid these pitfalls if you don’t want to send him running in the opposite direction! Read more …
I was pleased to learn about the existence of the 1920′s organization called the Anti-Flirt Club. Founded by a woman named Alice Reighly, the group was comprised of young women who had been “embarrassed by men in automobiles and on street corners.” Who among us has not? While we appreciate the Anti-Flirt Club’s efforts to protect women from future flirting-related gaffes, the problem is still running rampant nearly a century later. After the jump, I’ve taken the liberty of amending a few of their rules for modern women who don’t want to be embarrassed by men in automobiles and on street corners. Keep reading »
Let’s make it all about Oprah for a moment, shall we? Oprah says in reference to Gayle (and I’m paraphrasing here), “Nothing’s better than a good friend,” and with the notable exception of a perfectly done French fry, I wholeheartedly agree. There’s really nothing better. If you’re living without, I recommend you fix the situation pronto. That said, I’ve no intention of instructing you on how to go about that here; I’m out of practice myself, having slipped into a motley crew of lunatics my freshman year of college and having held on tightly to those lunatics for the better part of 15 years. At this stage, new friends come along only once in a long while. And all I can say in terms of how I find them, is that, well, I don’t really. They find me is how it feels: I’m at a social gathering complaining about my facial hair, when suddenly there’s some new gal beside me who’s like, “My issue has always been my hairy lower back.” So you get to talking and fast-forward five years and she’s the one you call crying about the fact that you’re crying about J. Lo’s divorce. So again, I’m not here to tell you how to find her; I’m here to tell you how to assess a new lady friend. How to tell if she’s The One. Or, more specifically a Keeper. Keep reading »
I like boobs. I’m a straight woman, but really, who doesn’t appreciate them? Robots. Reptiles. Sauron. That’s about it. And I’m not even positive about Sauron. He might have, at some point, before he was all disembodied. Breasts are awesome. As feminist writer Gail Collins said in her New York Times piece, “Everybody likes breasts — infants, adults, women, men. Really, it’s America’s most popular body part.” But sometimes it seems like we only get to talk about how awesome certain kinds of boobs are. The ones that are bold, perfectly round, Sports Illustrated-style, belonging to Christina Hendricks, full, plush, generous, prominent, and just generally big.
Those words do not describe my breasts, but I like mine anyway. For some reason, I never learned to be ashamed. I listened to my brothers (and the world) make enthusiastic comments about well-endowed women, and, although I had a few moments of “Seriously, God? Where’s the rest of my chest? YOU FORGOT SOMETHING,” I grew up generally liking the way I looked. It could be that there’s something wrong with my brain. But I think it’s more likely that small boobs are pretty great. Here’s why. Keep reading »
Normally, the onslaught of Valentine’s Day ephemera inspires a mere eyeball roll from me, but this year I find myself sprinting past heart décor window installations back to my apartment, a zone void of pink and red reminders of the guy who decided to end our story — the same week I got laid off my job, which just so happened to also fall on the week before the impending holiday. My job and I had a solid eight-year relationship, until the corporate office decided to “downsize” and I got dumped. The guy and I? We had a good run of late-night laughter, cooking with rare spices (sumac, anyone?) and forging the kind of intimacy that makes you quietly happy, for as long as it lasts. “Longer than Kim (Kardashian) and that Kris guy,” as he put it during our breakup.
Being unattached and unemployed this Valentine’s Day is a constant reminder that I would like to be tethered, well, to something. Whether my final destination is a new gig or a new guy (or both!), getting there is the fun part. Or not so fun part. Here’s my plan of action … Keep reading »