This weekend, when I was in Atlantic City, one of my fellow ragers asked me if she could borrow my tweezers so she could pluck a nipple hair. A nipple hair? She had nipple hair? “Yeah, don’t you?” I honestly didn’t know. She also said she waxed above her lip. Crap, I’ve never waxed my lip. Have I been walking around with a ‘stache for years and no one has ever told me and that’s why I can’t get a rebound to save my life right now?!
On last nights episode of “The Hills” the female ‘stache came back to haunt me — Lauren Conrad had a very obvious dusting of facial fuzz about her lip. If Lauren Conrad has a mustache I must have it too. This morning, the grooming obsession continued when I discovered a horrendous ingrown hair bump, um, you know where. Eww. Maybe I should start listening to the lady mags and actually wax from now on. Especially since I am about to jump back into the dating pool — with that in mind, I decided to ask the dudes on my IM about what they look for, grooming-wise, in a bed mate. I didn’t tell them about my ingrown hair though. I’m hoping it’s gone by the time I sleep with any of them. Keep reading »
A certain woman in my life wants to know what guys are thinking when a breakup goes down. So here it goes. We think about beer. And drinking it. And how drinking said beer will help us get lucky with the la-a-dies. The ladies with the righteous hoots.
Alright, fine. That was a sweeping gender generalization. A crude, cheap oversimplification of the masculine condition… But that doesn’t stop it from being true. Keep reading »
Hi, I’m single. Like, what’s up with that? Word. Can I buy you a vodka tonic, super fox?
Okay – let me interrupt for a second, and preempt our regularly scheduled programming to get some things off my hairy, muscular, barrel chest. I’m guessing you heard that the guy with the lizard neck lost the presidential election to the guy with the lady fingers, right? So…
I normally make a conscious choice to reject the idea of identity politics, which is to say, to gravitate towards politicians who are just like me, either ideologically, or, on a more base level, culturally. I am instantly distrustful of politicians who tell me they drink beer just like me, or listen to the music I listen to, or who suggest that I vote for them because their biological fortunes confer an expertise others cannot possibly claim. These notions are nothing more than cheap, aspirational lies. Keep reading »
Women typically date their own age or older, whereas guys typically date their own age or younger — I suppose this is because women mature faster than men, but once you’ve reached full on adulthood, certainly maturity evens out somewhat. With that in mind, I decided to find out what their rules are when it comes to dating older or younger women. Their answers may surprise you. I even got tingly. Keep reading »
I’m still really pissed that Proposition 8 and all the other gay marriage bans passed on Election Day. And if I’m pissed, guess who’s more pissed? Gay people, who’ve just been told for the zillionth time that they deserve less than straight Americans. I chatted up a few of my gay pals on IM today, to find out how they’re reacting to the news. Keep reading »
In a recent Sunday edition of a Gotham City newspaper, The Frisky’s very own Vixen of Verbiage, Simcha Whitehill, wrote about a new scientific study that suggests three cups of coffee a day can cause a woman’s breasts to shrink. Bravely, Simcha refused to give up her morning cup of liquid caffeine, even if it meant her rack might decrease in size from voluptuous to less voluptuous.
The study struck a nerve with women, who are as obsessed with their breasts as men are. And women are equally obsessed with the perceived male obsession over breasts. And we are obsessed. All men love boobs; we can’t help it. Before seemingly sensitive and enlightened male readers lambaste me for my sweeping gender generalizations, let me just say: Shut up, dudes. You love boobs, too. Even those of you who signed up for, and thoughtfully participated in, Women’s Studies classes in college … You just did it to pick up hot, feminist nerd girls. Keep reading »
Here are some of the things I learned from watching the second season finale of AMC’s Emmy Award winning show “Mad Men”:
In the psudeo-historical world of “Mad Men”, work days start at 10 in the morning, because professionals needed the extra time to style their perfect hair.
Men who sleep around are studs and women who sleep around are sluts.
Also: men are big babies with trembling eyes, and women have icicles for spines.
But the most important thing I learned from the last episode of “Mad Men” is that Don Draper, the chain-smoking, hard-drinking, skirt-chasing lead character, is a kind of pop Rorschach test for modern day cats and dames. Both men and women see something different in Don, played with chilled beefiness by Jon Hamm, and what we see is proof that there is still a primal disconnect between what women want in a man and what men want to be. Keep reading »
I’ve been thinking a lot about cheating lately, and what constitutes cheating for men and women. Personally, I think anything physical starting with kissing is cheating, though of course it increases in severity the more clothes come off. Emotional cheating is very real in my opinion too — I would be dismayed to find out that my ex, I don’t know, was having, say, a developing emotional affair, possibly, with his younger female coworker, confiding in her and sending her notes about missing her. No physical boundary may have been crossed, but giving your heart to someone, when it belongs to someone else, is just as bad to me. But what about men? Do they have the same guidelines? And how much would they forgive? Keep reading »
Last night’s episode of “Gossip Girl” was awesomely irritating. After pursuing Blair for ages, Chuck finally got her exactly where he wanted her — about to give up some lovin’ — but then turned the tables on her instead. It seems that Chuck wants to be chased, instead of the other way around. Say what? I’ve long been confused about whether men like women to be aloof or aggressive. Or aggressively aloof, if such a thing is possible. I’m not good at being either of those three things, which is why the prospect of gag, puke, blech, DATING again makes me wrinkle my nose. With that in mind, I decided to ask the men I trust so much I keep our relationships confined to IM, whether men like to be chased or do the chasing. Keep reading »
I watched “The Real Housewives Of Atlanta” this weekend and was blown away by the rampant materialism, excess, and over-the-top maintenance enjoyed by the stars of the show. Most of the women are married, or have boyfriends, who revel in their traditional feminine shallowness, and while these women may be EXTREME examples, I have often noticed that some of the most pain-in-the-ass women I know have nice, normal, sweet guys dying at their feet. IS there an appeal to high-maintenance women? And what the hell is it? Do I need to spend three hours getting ready to go to the gym in order to find a nice new man these days? I chatted up the guys on my IM to find out. Keep reading »