Fat is a powerful word.  Normally, I’m sassy, saucy and a little bit bitchy in the face of insults or arguments, but if someone dares to utter this little three-letter word, I’m done.  Why is it so powerful?  I don’t know exactly, but I’ll bet it has a whole lot to do with our society’s obsession with weight.  Skinny is beautiful, ideal, healthy, self-aware and responsible.  Fat is lazy, sad, denial, unhealthy and overtly irresponsible.  To some degree, I get it.  When someone weighs enough to limit their ability to move, to walk, to live, to wash themselves, it does make me feel sad and question their judgment.  However, I feel very similarly about really skinny people.  When I see a really thin, clearly eating-disordered person, I feel sad and I question their judgment.  What does this tell us?  Well, first of all that we are probably a little too aware of weight.

Jennifer Love Hewitt was called FAT in these photos. She's looks super-hot! She is SO SO SO not fat! Come on...

That said, I feel it needs a caveat.  We are all too aware of other people’s weight and most of us are also a little delusional about our own. Rarely do I hear a person accurately describe their own body, this tells me that I am statistically likely to be one of those people too.  In my mind (on most days), I’m huge.  I look down at myself and think that I am a ridiculously fat mess, but the thing is… I’m not.  I’m actually pretty average.  I know that I a lot of people use the word “curvy” as a substitute for the dread “fat,” but I think in this case I am actually curvy.  You know, as in curvaceous.  Yet, I feel fat.  I get called fat.  Sure, it doesn’t happen as much as it did in Middle School or High School, but it still happens and that sucks.  Seriously, it sucks to get called fat – even if you are.  Chew the fat, but don’t chew out the fatties. 
I think it’s also important to remember that “skinny” and “healthy” are not synonyms.  Healthy people come in a bigger spectrum (pun intended).  Bodies can be healthy even above 105 lbs., I promise.  Also, dudes don’t need to look like body builders, they can look quite normal and be quite healthy.  I would also like to give a shout out to the chubby dudes; they are way better boyfriends and usually work a lot harder at being people.  I like people.  Let’s be people.
I think the wrong names are often getting used to categorize our bodies.  “Fat” often means “chubby.”  “Chubby” often means “normal +5lbs.”  “Healthy” means nothing because no one has a healthy image of what healthy really is or ought to be.  “Normal” usually means “not incredibly skinny.”  “Thin” means “skinny.”  And when people call themselves “skinny,” well, that’s just weird.  The words we use to categorize our bodies have lost all meaning because no one uses them properly.  In fact, when I try to categorize my body, I feel frozen – if I say one thing, I feel like I’m lying.  When I try to change that to something else, I feel like it sounds like I might be implying that I’m fat, but trying to cover it up.  God forbid I sound fat!  What would I do then?  All I know is it’s something hyperbolic.  That much I know for sure.  If I say that I’m curvy, people think I’m saying I’m fat.  If someone calls me cute, or adorable, I think they’re calling me fat, but not completely gross.  If someone called me thin, I would laugh in their face.  What is an acceptable category?  I have no clue.  Maybe instead of having a fat or thin body, I can just have a body.  Yes?  I would like that.
Your body is a temple.  My body is a temple.  His body, her body, they are all temples.  Right?  If every body is a temple, respect the right to religious freedom. 
It’s not my business if you are fat, or thin, or average.  It’s not your business what I am either.  Unless, of course, you would like to pay my temple a compliment, or a donation… then, comment and donate away!
*Now accepting cash, check, Visa, Mastercard and American Express.

Sexting 101

Recently, I’ve received a lot of “sexts,” or sexy text messages, and I have to say: “Ew.”  Why are men sending me promises of pleasure and mental images of things I don’t need or want to imagine.  It got me thinking about when sexting is okay, and when it’s clearly not.  I feel like sending one of these assumes the other person is up for it (literally or not), and if that person isn’t, they’re going to be super creeped out.  For example, me.  I am creeped out by sext-messages.  On one hand, it’s good to know ahead of time that someone is going to attempt to chase after my lady lumps.  On the other hand, maybe dudes shouldn’t assume I feel like sending tedious text messages back and forth like it’s some sort of foreplay.  First of all, if I want to sleep with you, I will.  If I don’t want to sleep with you, a text message that promises a night of non-stop tickets to pleasuretown isn’t gonna change a thing.  Seriously, it’s not going to make me want you.  It will, however, get a blog post written about you and forever be standard part of my stand-up routine.

Since I’ve already written an obviously amazing user’s guide to Friends With Benefits, or Les Amies Sexuelles, I feel that I need to give the world another user’s guide.  Here you go, world.  Enjoy.

Sexting 101: A User’s Guide to Sexting

Before we begin discussing rules, let’s review a few situations of sexting and how they went right or wrong.

Situation #1:

We’ll call him Wesley (because it is an awesome name).  He met a nice young lady named Wendy (because I like alliteration) and they really hit it off.  They decided to go out on a date, which is unusual because they are in their 20s, and most people in that age group are more prone to “hang out” instead of “date.”  Anyways, the two went on their very nice date, which ended with some saucy making out and some innocent squeezing/grabbing/petting.  After they parted for the evening, Wesley set up their next date via text.  He described a beautiful dinner with high-quality wine and Wendy swooned.  She thought, “How did I get so lucky?  I finally met a nice guy!”  Wendy responded by saying, “Dinner sounds lovely.  Would you like to do anything after?”  This is where Wesley went wrong.  He responded, “Well, I’m planning on having a light dinner to save room for dessert.”  Wendy got nervous and didn’t immediately respond.  Wesley took the initiative and proceeded to explain exactly what he planned on eating and how he planned on eating it.  Wendy was horrified, she laughed, she nervously shivered, she swore, and promptly cancelled their date.

Why is this wrong? 

It’s wrong because Wesley had taken Wendy on only one date and they had established any kind of sexual relationship or sexual language at this point.  Sure, the girl kissed him on the first date, but she was clearly leaving some things to the imagination.  Ah, yes, the imagination.  It seems Wesley let his get the best of him.  He went too lewd too fast.  Wendy might have been up for some veiled innuendos to what dessert might be; she might have been quite interested in hearing about the vague plans he had for her.  Yet, as soon as he got specific about the lady-parts he had not yet seen or touched, she felt uncomfortable and a little grossed out.

Rule #1: Know your audience.


Situation #2:

Whitney and Bobby (no, not that Whitney and Bobby) really wanted to bone, but couldn’t due to some mental issues Bobby was having at the time.  These “mental issues” or “nerves” as they’re often called by doctors, made it impossible for Bobby to “stand tall.”  Eventually the stress of ED tore their relationship apart and they broke-up.  Ever since then, Bobby calls and texts Whitney to profess his love and desire for her – when drunk.  When Bobby sobers up, he claims he has no feelings for her.  (We call this a cycle, or as doctors would say, bullshit.)  Late one evening, Bobby was innocently texting Whitney to see if she was out on the town, as he was.  Since it was a Tuesday, and Whitney has a job, she explained that she was actually home and about to hit the hay.  Then, it got weird.  He explained that he would like to get into that bed with her and that he would like to make her Tuesday nice and “exciting.”  She tried to decline, but he insisted that he would be rubbing and bumping things all night.  She, again, declined.  He still persisted until she started swearing and texting in all caps.  It did not end well.

Why is this wrong?

He couldn’t take a hint.  Also, he pretended to have some kind of sexual prowess, which their previous relationship proved very, very false.  If he couldn’t do the thing before, why would he be able to do it now?

Rule #2: If at first you don’t succeed, you’re not gonna, so stop. 


Situation #3:

Example Conversation…

Don: You busy tonight?

Donna: I could find some time… depends on what you’re offering…

Don: I would make it worth your while.

Donna: Oh, really?  How so?

Don: I’m gonna bleep bleep your bleep so bleepy bleep you’ll bleep all night.

Donna: Oh yeah, baby.  I wanna bleep your bleep so bleepy too.

Don: I’ll be there in 10.

Donna: Perfect.

Why this is right?

They’re both participating.  They clearly know each other well enough and have probably established their sexual relationship beyond confusion.  This means, they both know what’s going on.  It’s cool.

Rule #3: Meet your partner’s intensity level.  Do not assume they agree with you.

We’ll alert you when Sexting 102 comes out.

I Don’t Want To Smell Like Sugary Treats, Thanks

The smell of your bathroom products can, at times, be a big deal. I don’t know about everyone else, but I normally take a few minutes to smell the products that I’m buying for two reasons: I don’t like hating the way I smell and I don’t want the six hundred smells from all the different products to clash and make me smell like a trash can or a perfume-obsessed grandmother.

However, the other day I went to Target and purchased a new hairspray on the cheap: Suave Touchable Finish Hairspray. I thought, well, this looks all right. Let’s try it. I also happened to be in a bit of a hurry, so, contrary to my usual beauty product purchasing routine, I didn’t smell it first.

Oh, brother. I now am the proud owner of a product that makes me smell like a cotton candy factory. Might have been cool when I was 12, not so much when I’m 22. I didn’t realize that the pink stood for “Smell Like Treats Four Year Olds Love”!

The quality is decent, but the smell got me thinking about other beauty products and smells that drive me nuts.

Body Spray/Spritzers

I don’t really understand how these are different from perfume except that they usually smell worse and people think that because they aren’t perfume that they should use ten times as much. They really don’t accomplish much other than making women smell like cheap Thai hookers, too-ripe fruit, or a variety of sweets. This causes me to wonder who exactly wants to walk around smelling like food. It seems like you would attract more attention than you might have bargained for (e.g. from squirrels or other hungry animals).

Hair Paste

As a short-haired woman, I love me some hair wax, but I hate buying it. There doesn’t seem to be any standards for what terms like “wax,” “paste,” “fiber,” or “gum” mean, what texture they will give your hair, or what texture they have on their own. They vary from a nearly solid paste-like substance to semi-solid material to runny goop that makes you look like you have respectfully declined to wash your hair for the last two weeks.

Pore Strips

I, like many other people, continue to buy these stupid little things even though they continuously disappoint me. They kind of, sort of work, but more often than not, I’m more frustrated with what I think is left in my pores than what these suckers pulled out. Why? Why do I keep buying these?! Oh, yeah, it’s because every other product that claims to clean your pores also sucks. Man has walked on the moon but has yet to come up with a good way of cleaning his or her pores.

That’s all from me, but what beauty products leave you feeling angry, disappointed, or smelling weird?

10 Things We Hate About Moving (Well, 12…)

1. All these fucking boxes!  They all look the same.
2. No one stops sweating, ever.  If you are moving, you are sweaty.  You smell like sweat.  You are a sweaty, smelly mess. Blech…
3. Everyone is mad.  Your mom is annoyed.  Your boyfriend is pissy.  You’re mad.  Everyone is stressed.  And arguing.  It’s like you lose control of your actual emotions, and get lost in new emotions that are covered and soaked in sweat.  In fact, sweating has become an emotion.
4. No matter what, you will lose something valuable and break something sentimental.  And then you will cry.
5. You find far too many spiders in far too many places making far too many webs on far too many things you own.
6. Even when you find people to buy your furniture, they will be assholes.  For example, the woman who was 30 minutes late, then toured the apartment to see what else we had, then demanded we charge half-price, then claimed to have only brought $6.00 with her.  Needless to say, we passed on the sale.
7. I hate that movies glorify moving with montages.  This is not a montage; “I’m Walking on Sunshine” is not the soundtrack to real life.  This just sucks.
8. You can’t drink to ease the pain because then you can’t drive or really be a reliable lifter of furniture.
9. How much are you charging for boxes?  Wait!  Why am I buying boxes?  I’m paying for cardboard?  What the hell is happening?  (cries)  It’s just a box.
10. You have to leave… :(
11. (Bonus) Whenever you move you always feel like the filthiest person alive… so many dust bunnies…. everywhere.
12. (Bonus) Questions! If you have someone helping you move, chances are they are going to break your concentration every thirty seconds with a (sometimes completely stupid) question. But you don’t want to blow up at them because they are helping you after all. Rock and a hard place. :(

Disappointed, But Giggling.

So, Michele Bachmann is on the cover of Newsweek.  Before I rant, I want to make it perfectly clear that I hate Michele Bachmann.  I think she is a backwards, hateful, foolish woman, and I would love the chance to pour glittery gay glitter all over her stupid, crazy face.  She is a crazy bitch and I hope she fails hard.  That said, what Newsweek’s editor did with this cover doesn’t sit well with me.  Honestly, it’s just plain mean.  Mean, by the way, is not good journalism.  Take a look at the photo in question.

Can you say, "Crazy Eyes?"

She looks straight-up crazy.  I mean, she is crazy, so it makes sense, but it doesn’t make it okay for Newsweek to present her like this.  Let her words make her crazy known.  Let her ridiculous prejudices and hateful rantings be her downfall.  Don’t take the easy route by simply attacking her appearance.  I’m all for shaming Michele Bachmann, ALL FOR IT, but it has to be done in a better way.  When I make fun of Bill O’Reilly, I don’t say that he’s a fat, ugly slob, even though he is.  I criticize his ridiculous claims, he made up facts and his general bullshit.  When I make fun of John Boehner, it’s not because he’s a sniveling, crying baby; it’s because he’s a stupid, illogical, lying, terrible politician.

My point is that she is an awful person, but that we should attack her politics and not her crazy eyes.  It’s trashy, easy and cheap.  Be better.  Newsweek isn’t a blog; it should do better.

Finally, because this is a blog, screw Bachmann.  She’s awful.

What the Smurf?

Oh, Neil Patrick Harris… I expect more from you.

“The Smurfs” is a little art film about the struggle of being different, being a minority, and facing the big hand of big brother and the man as they try to crush the little guy… Wait, wait, wait…  “The Smurfs” is actually a big-budget bullcrap movie ripping off an old cartoon with a bunch of random a-listers.  Boring and likely awful.  But, whatever!  That’s not our issue today.

The issue today is that I went to the theatre to see “Crazy, Stupid Love,” which by the way was amazing, and I saw some people with blue paint on their faces.  Why?  I just couldn’t figure it out.  It’s not Halloween…  Avatar’s not showing… Hmm, why are there a bunch of ADULTS with blue face paint on?  One or two of the women even had little white hats on.  And then, I looked up and saw it…  A poster for the smurf movie, and I realized that adults had dressed up in the middle of the day to go see a movie about smurfs.  Blerg.  I quickly exited the theatre and proceeded to laugh hysterically, because, well, it’s ridiculous.

Yes, I’m being judgmental.  That’s what this blog is for.  In fact, the only acceptable reasons to be blue in public on non-Halloween days are:

1. You are in a show/play/movie that requires blue-ness.

2. Bar Crawls – no rules, just drunk.

3. You’re choking… Though, I don’t want you to be choking.

4. You are in the Blue Man Group… OR You really want to be, and you might even be an understudy.  Right, Tobias?

I’m just really disappointed in adults for dressing up as smurfs… At least make it a smurf drinking party.  I mean, doesn’t that sound like more fun than popcorn?  Now that I think about it, maybe this was the pre-game to a real smurf rager.  Hmm, I can only hope.

Classic Joke? Here’s a Class Rant

You’ve heard the damn joke.  The one about the damn duck.  Just in case, here’s my angry-fied version:


A duck walks into a bar and asks, “Got any grapes?”

The bartender, who is rightly confused, tells the duck that no, his bar doesn’t serve grapes. The duck says, “Thank you,” and leaves.

The next day, the same stupid talking duck returns and asks, “Got any grapes?”

Again, the reasonable and strangely unalarmed by the talking duck bartender tells him that, no, the bar does not serve grapes.  Maybe he even offers the duck grape vodka, but no real grapes.

The duck, as unaffected as ever, just says, “Thanks, but no thanks,” and leaves like a jerk.

The next day, the duck is back and the same damn thing happens again.

The day after that, the duck comes again (also, like a jerk), and says, “Got any grapes?”

Since the bartender is finally annoyed and realizing that a stupid duck is TALKING TO HIM, he yells, “Duck! This is a bar! We don’t serve any friggin’ grapes! We barely serve bar buts, you ass!  If you ask for grapes again, I’ll nail your stupid yellow beak to the damn bar!”

So, then the next day, THE FRICKIN’ DUCK COMES BACK.  The bartender is too mad to speak.  The duck just looks at him with his stupid duck eyes and says, “Got any nails?”

The bartender furrows his brow, and says, “NO,” with quiet rage.

The duck smirks like an asshole and says, “Well, then… Got any grapes?”

While I have to acknowledge that my angry version of this joke is probably funnier than the original, it’s still awful.

I hate this joke.  I will never acknowledge its humor.  Why does the stupid duck want grapes?  Ducks don’t even eat those!  Ducks are crazy!  They don’t give a wisp of a care about grapes.  My dog would eat anything, but grapes were a mystery to him and I think they just weirded him out… IF A DOG WON’T EAT GRAPES, WHY THE HELL WOULD A DUCK?  Ridiculous.

Also, why is a duck in a bar?  Why can the duck talk?  Why is this NEVER ADDRESSED?  Why isn’t the bartender more freaked out by the fact that the duck is talking?

Ugh… I hate this joke.

God.  And there’s a song?!?!?!?!




Readers, what jokes do you find most unacceptable?  Let me know.


The Finger

Giving someone the bird used to mean something. It should make the receiver feel stupid, ashamed, aghast, angry, and weak; the giver powerful, secure, and bad ass. But now, giving the finger just makes you look like a giant douche.

Bitches think I'm awesome when I'm givin' the finger, bro!

Like the douchebros you see above, particularly the one waving the bird in the center of the group, giving the finger–in a photo particularly–has lost any of the edginess it used to hold. Rather than making you look like a bad ass rockstar saying “fuck you!” to authority and convention, you just end up looking lame.

But why is this? It’s not because the bird has changed; rather the acceptable nature of it has changed. It’s no longer all that offensive because everyone does it.

When people like Avril Lavigne, the awkward chick from Twilight (otherwise known as Kristen Stewart), and Biebs are giving the finger, it loses its edge. I’m no longer thinking, “Dang, that person is a total bad ass.” I’m thinking more along the lines of, “Doesn’t Biebs talk about loving Jesus? Why is Avril Lavigne trying so hard to be cool? God, that Twilight chick is even more awkward when she’s trying to look tough…”

So to you, guy lurking in the back of photos trying to look cool: lose the finger. You’re ruining it, along with these douches, for people when they really need to use it. Like when some gross dude hits on you, or when someone cuts you off in traffic, or when someone nearly runs you over when you’re crossing the street. These are times when the finger works, because it’s directed at a person you feel animosity toward, and it says, “Hey–Fuck you.” And it is appropriately deserved. You can’t just do it in a picture and have it mean the same thing. Unless you’re Keith Richards or that soccer baby.

Because you’re either older that dirt and you amaze me by even still being alive, which means you gave the proverbial finger to death himself, or…

you’re the youngest, angriest Dutch soccer fan alive.


So put your hand down and quit ruining the best possible way of expressing silent indignation for the rest of us.

And, oh yeah, this one’s for you:

Stop Being Naked.

We get it.  You’re hot.  Now, stop being naked.

These ladies are all very attractive, and are also all insisting on wearing only half-shirts, which are weirdly baggy and occasionally see-through.  Why?  Why is this popular?  These girls just look sloppy, trashy and desperate for attention.  The only one that looks half-decent right now is Audrina Patridge.  She looks the classiest and she’s wearing a sheer top.  This trend keeps coming back and I keep seeing it around town, at the mall, on dates and at the bar.  I just don’t get it though.  Why can’t we keep our tummies to ourselves?

Also, apparently bustiers are back in fashion.  (see below)


These things are pretty much lingerie called casual wear, but it doesn’t change that you look like a hussy.  That’s right.  This makes me so mad, I’m calling people hussies again.


Both of these girls look mostly naked, and while I’m sure they would get plenty of male attention in these tops, I hope that the hatred of other women would be enough to shut it down.  So, stop it.  Stop being naked!

These are just lace!  Come on!



Wearing something like this just makes a girl look desperate and a little skanky.  Good for you that you feel incredibly confident.  Seriously, that much really is great because too many people are overly worried about their bodies.  My worry is that these girls are not actually really self-conscious and seeking attention from men to fill the voids their minds cannot.  It makes me sad.  It reminds me of how I feel on Saturday and Sunday morning when I watch the great migration home…  the girls coming home from random dudes’ bedrooms.

On top of all of this, these stupid crop tops are sneaking into suits and suit-like things allowing people to be subtly slutty.  Not cool.  Even if you are wearing a suit jacket, and even if that jacket is black instead of pink, your crop top is still a little slutty and also a little dumb.   Really, this looks ridiculous.  Big balloon shorts in orange.  Over-sized, yet short-sleeved jacket.  Plus, a black low-cut crop top.  Oh, good.