You can stop whining about how hard it is to be young now.

More and more often, I’ve been seeing articles bemoaning being in your twenties (in particular, Thought Catalog and the HuffPost Blog love making lists on this topic). I wrote a goofy version (at least I like to think so) myself–far less, well, serious and doom-y. But I’m really, really, REALLY getting tired of people bitching and moaning about being twenty-whatever in combination with one of the following:

A. Not having a job. I get that this is frustrating. I do. Having a degree that you worked hard for and that you can seemingly wipe your ass with sucks. However, there is not some sort of cosmic significance to your lack of employment. We have a shitty economy. We are, realistically, in a rec(depr)ession, and you’re pretty much at the bottom of the ladder. It is, yes, adversity that you have to work through, but plenty of other people have worked through it before you. It is not something special for our generation, it does not make you better/unique/more self-aware. You’re also the one who refuses to do menial labor because you’ve been fore fed some bullshit about it being below you for the last two decades. You annoy me. Shut the hell up already.

B. Being single. And drunk. And single. Okay, I get it. You’re lonely. And you’re verging on being a full-blown alcoholic. This has nothing to do with being in your twenties. Being drunk and lonely is not a profound experience, nor is it the special property of the young.

C. Feeling directionless and using your blog to whine about it. Blogging always straddles that strange line between making your point and getting whiny in order to elicit sympathy from total strangers. One thing that is true about many people in their twenties (but also true of many teens and even a boatload of baby boomers) is a need for constant reassurance/confirmation from their social circle. Why else would social media be so addictive and so conducive to the humblebrag?

D. Being too far or too little self-aware. It depends on who you ask on this one, but for all the time you, author of blogpost/article, are spending reflecting on being in your twenties (instead of oh, I don’t know, living them) I sure hope you’re erring on the “too much” side of this equation. Honestly, quit taking yourself so seriously. Chances are, by the time you hit your mid twenties, you’ll experience something that will change the way you see the world or yourself. That’s healthy and appropriate. Whether that’s losing a beloved grandparent, having to break off a long-term relationship, or even getting a first phone call from a collections department, all of these things can force you to crawl out of your (supposed) vodka-induced coma from part B of this list and re-evaluate your shit. It’s called life, and it is not special or particular to being a young adult.

E. Whining about being broke. Your parents are paying (or stopped paying) your rent/grocery bill/phone bill/bar bill/healthcare bills (think Lena Dunham à la Girls). You live in New York/L.A./Miami/Chicago. Um. What did you think was going to happen if you moved to a HUGE metropolis and had, if we refer to part A, NO JOB? Shit is expensive! I hope your parents have already paid off the house they have in Happytown, USA because even a shitty studio apartment in some of those places is probably going to have them forking over twice as much as they did for their mortgage. Give me a break. Stop acting like they’re obliged to be paying for your dumb ass to live the high life while remaining totally oblivious to all of the benefits you do have, like parents who are not only willing but able to help you with your rent.

F. Jerking off to your own perceived intellectual, social, and cultural superiority. We get it. You have clever Tweets. Who knew so much wit could be packed into a mere 140 characters? Your Instagram photos each have the perfectly selected filter for the five hundredth picture of your cat, or the one where you’re holding up a half-drunken PBR at some skeevy neighborhood bar you like because it’s “pure” (that is, you’re the only person under forty inside of it). Your Tumblr is both thought provoking and delightfully cheeky in the 21st century intarwebs sort of way. You’ve read (and get) Derrida and Naked Lunch. You need to remind your Facebook friends how brilliant and unique and clever and unique and underground and unique and unique and unique you are. Did I mention you’re unique? And your blog, OH! Your BLOG. It is so deep and meaningful and there’s just so many feelings you need to discuss.

The biggest problem is that there’s a good chunk of “twenty-somethings” who aren’t anywhere near this obnoxious, self-righteous, self-absorbed, and arrogant.

We live on our own. We have jobs. We pay our own bills. We might have put ourselves through college. We aren’t stressing that we don’t have the newest version of the iPhone. We still don’t really “get” Twitter. We’ve (self-consciously) learned how to resist the humblebrag. We take care of our parents, financially, physically, or emotionally. We appreciate cheeky internet humor as much as the next guy, but don’t feel compelled to base our entire self-worth on it. We, too, sometimes drink to much, have a crisis of conscience and confidence, and really–really–enjoy watching Girls. We just don’t take to the virtual streets and feel it’s necessary to tell the world each passing detail of our lives, or record them in photographs, preferring to experience them without a camera lens in our face or our fingers racing across the touch screen of our phone to check-in on Facebook 24/7. And quite frankly, we’re sick and tired of getting lumped in with people who do act those ways and do those things. I’m looking at you, New York Times.

So, let’s be real. Being in your twenties, like being in any other conveniently-named age range, has its ups and downs. Sitting around pampering your bruised ego on the internet or looking for affirmation of your feelings and your self-worth from your peers, known or unknown, is a (bad) choice, not a feature of an age group. It’s okay to feel pissed off because you’re unemployed or because you can’t find a boyfriend; it really is. But it has nothing to do with your age.

File This Under “Things That Make Me Hate the World/Want to Cry”

This is terrifying because this person bought a 50,000 euro (that’s $61,780 USD) bottle of champagne, but I also have to laugh because they paid 10 euro for Coca Cola. Middle-American upbringing FTW.

This exists. Okay, not so much that this exists, but that there’s enough material for something like this to exist; and not just exist but flourish. “Rich Kids of Instagram” is a Tumblr site on which the author posts pictures of young people of outrageous familial wealth showcasing their moral bankruptcy and total disregard for reality on their Instagram accounts. Oh, and like any good Millennial, their expertise at bragging. Go figure. This makes me kind of terrified, or as the kids would say,

#omgfearthefuture

Just… yuck.

K-Stew Blows (Up)

I’m taking this opportunity to join the bandwagon and hate on K-Stew, who, upon my attempt to watch the 2009 movie Adventureland (I had to turn it off midway through because it sucked so hard and she was so bad), I immediately disliked because of her total lack of acting skills. Now everyone’s gone hateface on her because she did some indiscreet public humping with her director. I’m just along for the ride.

Brief Disclaimer: If you can make it through the following clips, you’re probably a saint.

Five Reasons K-Stew’s “Acting” is Awful:

1. Could she breathe anymore flippantly? Is it possible? Every thirty seconds is a huffy sigh of indignation or angst. Give me a break. Use your words, K-Stew. It’s okay, you’re an adult now.

2. Add to her angsty sighs her angsty eye rolls and you’re pretty much at the pinnacle of K-Stew’s acting abilities.

3. AWFUL line delivery. AWFUL. Between stuttering and a total lack of emotion/utterly flat delivery, she makes watching any and all of her scenes unbearable.

4. Any scenes that do require emotion, like happiness, are way overdone and feel false.

5. She doesn’t act. That’s just how she is. So instead of becoming characters, characters became the awkward and annoying K-Stew. Hair playing and flatline sighs abound! Wee!

And just because I’m feeling generous, here’s a bonus #6: I wonder how many flies Kristen Stewart has swallowed in the course of her life considering the fact that she never closes her mouth. BLARRR!!!!

Perpetual state of “Whaaa?”

Some time ago, KStew mentioned wanting to be a writer. God help us if she writes as poorly as she acts.

Your Bra Size Is NOT My Concern

Sometimes, I am a loud-mouth.  Still, I have self-control, and an awareness of myself whilst in public places.  A young lady I encountered today was lacking in the whole control area, but she was clearly an expert in loud-mouthery.  Man, oh, man…  She could talk.  LOUD.  She struck me as the kind of person who updates her facebook status at least twice a day; likely about half of those statuses are vague and emotional so that people will ask what’s wrong.  Basically, I’m saying she was really darn annoying.

We were all trapped trying on clothes in the Salvation Army, when some loud-mouthed teen decided to declare her cup-size to us all.  I was not amused.  Here are a few things she exclaimed:

  • “I’M ONLY 5’1″ AND MY BOOBS ARE D-CUPS!  D-CUPS, I TELL YOU [and everyone else].”
  • “OH MY GOD, STACY.  YOU HAVE TO COME SEE HOW HILARIOUS I LOOK.  MY TITS ARE SPILLING OUT ALL OVER THE PLACE.  IT’S RIDICULOUS.”
  • “DEFINITELY WHEN I’M DONE LOSING WEIGHT, I’LL BE ABLE TO FIT IN THIS… OF COURSE, THAT’S ONLY IF MY D-CUPS SHRINK! HAHA!  THEY’RE SO BIG!”
  • “UGH! I HATE MY D-CUPS!”
  • “MY BOOBS ARE SO HUGE.  IT’S SO AWFUL HAVING BOOBS THIS BIG.”
  • “BIG BOOBS ARE THE WORST.”
  • “NO ONE MAKES CLOTHES FOR BOOBS THIS BIG!”

I have a lot of issues with this.  First of all, don’t scream about your boobies in the middle of a store.  It’s one thing to say to your companion, “This won’t fit over my boobs,” or, “Haha! Look at this.”  It’s very different to share your cup-size like a news announcement.   I promise, no one cares as much as you do.  You can share the moment with your friend, but you don’t need to share it with everyone else.  There are kids around, and old folks, and folks who just have normal levels of privacy…  They don’t care.

Also, they do make clothes for big boobs.  As a lady with boobs EVEN BIGGER than yours, I can assure you that I wear clothing that I do not make.  Therefore, some clothing has to fit over boobs of that stature.  Yes, it is harder to find button-ups, bathing suits, dresses, and tanktops, but you learn to deal.  Big boobs happen.  Big shirts happen too.  You just have to accept that you can’t fit into anything and everything… You know, like everyone else.

Another thing, most people don’t want to hear complaints about big boobs.  Big boobs get a lot of press and a lot of love.  Maybe don’t whine in front of all the A-Cups and B-Cups of the world.  They’re hatred of you and your D-Cups could penetrate your skull and crush you at any moment.  Stop complaining.  You’ll be fine.

Maybe I’m just a cranky old lady, but I just don’t want to hear about a stranger’s boobs from across the store.

Do you think Christina Hendricks screams, “HOW WILL I FIT MY CRAZY-HUGE TITTAYS IN THIS OUTFIT?!” every time she tries to buy a tanktop?  No.  She does not.  Christina Aguilera doesn’t either.  Some ladies have big boobies.  Every single person who sees a lady with big boobies will, with a doubt, notice that she has them.  Big boobs are kind of hard to miss.  Therefore, they don’t need to be announced in the Salvation Army dressing rooms.


It’s Senior Portraits, Not a Centerfold.

Why have senior pictures become the new place for 18 year old girls to showcase their budding bazongas? Or young men to fantasize that they’re on the cover of GQ? Here are some things NOT to do when you’re getting your (or you know someone else who is getting their) senior pictures taken.

1. Wear make up, but don’t channel Liza Minnelli. Nobody looks good like that.

2. Wear real clothes. In fact, wear your regular clothes, or maybe one step nicer. Remember, your mom is giving copies of these to your grandparents. Do you really think they want to see your cleavage or your bare chest? Yeah, think again.

3. Don’t pose in strange, contorted ways. The idea shouldn’t be “How can we twist you so your boobs hang out?” Just stand or sit normally. Move your chin up and down the way the photographer tells you to so your face doesn’t look weird because of shadows. If he tells you to throw your head back and grab a pole, you may want to consider another photographer–dude’s obviously a perv.

4. Keep your eyes open. There is no reason you need to close your eyes, especially when you’re lying down. Hello, I don’t care how your eyeshadow looked when you were eighteen; I care how you looked. Including your eyes.

5. Smile. Don’t try to be Tyra Banks and “smile with your eyes” to look sexy. You come off looking like an amateur centerfold with your lips half-parted. If you wanna be in pornos, wait til after high school.

Stop Comparing Me to Fruit

I’m sure by now, most women have heard of different classifications for body shapes. There’s the “hourglass” (think Marilyn Monroe and every pin up girl ever) and the “rectangle” (as in you don’t have a natural waist) and sometimes even varieties of triangle (standard and inverse, apparently). But all of this is weird. No one actually looks like a triangle or a rectangle. Hourglass, sure, I can see that. Then there’s the stupid food comparisons: apple, pear, and (this one was new to me) banana. I’m sorry but I definitely don’t look like a piece of fruit. This comparison is just weird and nonsensical.

In this case, the fruit doesn't even fit. And that does NOT look like a banana, damnit.

I’m sorry, but none of these shapes make any sense to my brain. I just don’t get it. Supposedly, because I’m small-chested and big-bootied (is that even a term?) I’m a “pear” shape. But I’m also supposed to have tiny, wimpy shoulders (which I don’t) and thick ankles (also don’t). I get the impetus for classifying body shapes–supposedly helping women dress to flatter their most “alluring” features–but it really needs to be rethought. On top of only being able to represent these so-called universal shapes that are supposed to fit all women on the planet in odd drawings without faces or  with creepy identical faces, when someone does try to represent these shapes in the real world, you wind up with ridiculously inaccurate representations. See, for example, figure three. All of these women, despite the fact that they’ve been classified as “different” shapes, all look the same to me. They all have chests of roughly the same size, they’re all fairly lean (though red bathing suit and black bathing suit have weirdly thin thighs that don’t touch), and they all have pretty defined waists. I’m also increasingly convinced that “inv” triangle and triangle are the same woman with a bit of photoshopping on the booty/thighs area. Alternative to the “models come in all shapes and varieties of anorexic!!!” photo above is the “all women look like worn out slobs and stand with their arms awkwardly lifted and suffering from an inexplicable case of bowleggedness” picture below. Kudos to the creator for using real women, but at the same time, it seems somewhat unfair to try to accurately represent body types when you’re using women whose ages vary from the fairly young (maybe 24, “lollipop”) to the fairly old (65? “column”), and whose relative body weight fluctuates from the very skinny to the verging on obese. And forgive me for asking, but what idiot came up with these horrible names. There’s the classic food items, but wtf is a cello body shape? Lollipop? Goblet? And can we all agree that “brick” is a terrible term for a woman’s body shape? As if you could be any less interested in making a woman feel beautiful–“Yes, dear, I believe you’d be classified as a ‘brick.'” C’mon!

This is not to say that using women of a variety of ages and weights is a bad thing, but it’s hard to get a sense of your body shape if you’re at the right weight but don’t look like Ms. Lollipop, Pear, or Cornet. What about women of average weight who are hourglass-shaped? Or heavy women who are column or goblet shaped? This system just sucks, to be honest.

Additionally, in my evening internet cruising, I keep seeing advice for pear and apple shaped women that encourages them to “hide” their big hips or busts, respectively, while telling hourglass ladies to just let it all hang out cause they have nothing to hide. What kind of message does that send? The only worthwhile, sexy shape is an hourglass one, I assume. Everyone else better try to wear dark colors or use ruffles to give the impression they actually have the hourglass shape instead of just embracing the great assets they do have, regardless of whether their top and bottom halves match.

I say, eff that. Whether you look like Barbie or you don’t, stop dressing to cover up what some people like to call “problem areas” (i.e. anything that’s not an hourglass), and just start wearing what you think looks good and gives you confidence.

You’re Trying Too Hard (and by that I mean that I can see your lady-bits).

How often has this happened to you?  You are at a bar, drinking and being merry, when a girl, or a giant group of girls walk(s) by and then, YOU SEE HER CHATCH. There are always girls at any given bar who wear skirts so short you can see their business.  These girls dance around, usually on a stage of some kind, and flail their exposed tacos all about for the other party-goers to see.  I think this is pretty rude, delusional, and disturbing.  People don’t like looking at other people’s genitals in public.  No, thank you.  NO.

Keep your babies out of the bar.

Keep your baby-maker out of sight at the bar too.

This is borderline illegal.

If a dude had his weiner out at a bar, you would arrest him.  I don’t want to see a chick’s butt or front-butt either.  It’s gross.  It’s creepy.  It’s genitalia.

Just because you want to look sexy and get noticed while out on the town with your “girls,” does not mean you have the right to show me your genitals.  I don’t want to see your crotch.  In fact, I bet most dudes aren’t really excited about seeing your crotch on the dance floor.  Most dudes would be fine with you wearing pants and/or a longer skirt while you simply promise them future contact with your lady-bits.  No one needs to see your bits whilst in public.

I just don’t want to see this.  I don’t want to be involved in your sex life.  I don’t want to be forced into seeing what you use in your sex life.  Settle the hell down.  Skirts should be long enough to cover your butt cheeks, even your under-butt-crease.  Skirts should also cover your frontal zones of privacy.  No one but your private sexual partner should be exposed to your exposed frontal zones of privacy.

Dumb Things I’ve Seen on the Bus Reprise

I’ve seen and heard a lot of dumb things on the bus. I don’t know what it is about being among strangers on a moving vehicle that makes people want to act inappropriately, but there’s definitely something going on.

Today, I saw a woman CLIPPING HER FINGERNAILS on the bus. Yes. You know, what you usually do over the trash can. Or a toilet. ALONE.

Image Courtesy of TrainPigs.Wordpress.Com

I even get grossed out when my boyfriend clips his nails in front of me. There’s something about clipped nails that is nasty (and I hear they’re one of the most germ-friendly places on your body, too, by the way) and it is definitely not something I’d do in front of anyone, let alone on a bus full of strangers. Not only is it super gross to hear your fingernails snapping off but I really don’t want to be the person who sits down after you in a pile of “debris.”

For anyone who has the urge to cut their fingernails in public, consider this a friendly piece of advice: DO IT AT HOME. IN YOUR BATHROOM. ALONE.

 

For more on gross public transportation behavior, visit Train Pigs.

Things Halloween Taught Me

This Halloween and the few past years of Halloweens have taught me a number of things.  Being on a college campus at this time of year means you will be seeing so many asses, boobies, stomachs, under-butt-creases, and tons of other body parts you might not have signed up for getting to see on your otherwise normal night.

  1. I have more shame than everyone.  I would just feel embarrassed wearing some of those things.  My butt feels cold stronger than any other part of my body, thus wearing something that exposes the bottom half of my bottom is not a viable option for me.
  2. Girls will do anything for candy attention.
  3. Literally anything/anyone/any character/any noun can become a slutty costume.  I saw a slutty Esmeralda on Saturday.  I saw a slutty cat EVERYWHERE I LOOKED.
  4. It doesn’t take a lot to make me feel fat.  Seeing a bunch of skinny chicks with six packs (who are drunk on six packs) displayed in their tan and taught glory makes me feel pale and a little flabby.  I just feel uncomfortable looking at them.  I also feel like it’s inappropriate.  Plus, not all the people showing their bellies have toned situations going on.  Some of those bellies are sad.  They all look cold.  They all look slutty.
  5. Nothing is sacred.
  6. People are pretty racist.  Also, racist people tend to have pretty ignorant friends.
  7. Drunk blankets are magical.  These are the same chicks who wear 12-inch thick coats, and furry boots all winter and spring because they are so cold.  Yet, on Halloween, these skinny little chicks can take almost freezing temperatures.  How?  The magical drunk blanket.
  8. Underpants = Costume.  LIES.  LIES.  LIES.  I saw a girl who was yet another slutty cat, and she was wearing cat ears, a corset, and sequined panties… What?  I saw another girl who was just wearing underwear.  I assume she was a stripper for Halloween?
  9. A lot of people have daddy issues.  Okay, so this one is an assumption.
  10. I’m too old to live here.  I feel uncomfortable and worried about all the girls dressed like this.  I feel like I want to check in with each of them to make sure they’re okay and not too drunk.  I just feel worried about them.

Rompers romping everywhere

The “Romper,” also known as the “Romper Suit,” is a bizarre piece of clothing. According to the Wikipedia entry, it is “a one-piece garment worn by children and sometimes women.” Originally made for small children, women began wearing them in the 1950’s as “leisure and beach wear.”

More recently, however, I’ve begun to see them on teens and twenty somethings everywhere.

Is it just me or are rompers strangely childish? Something about them reminds me of onesie footie pajamas, but for summertime. Also, their inherent femininity seems to sprout from their nature as an all-or-nothing garment, which really bothers me. It seems as if this is a weird modern version of the chastity belt (forget quickie sex in one of these–ever), except with the alternative of total nakedness. There is no in between!

On the practical side, I also have my doubts–how do you go to the bathroom in one of these things? Do you have to strip down butt naked? Who would want to do that in an American public bathroom where you can pretty much peek through the cracks of the stalls anyway? Not me, thanks. Additionally, what if you’re a woman with a long torso? Or a short one, for that matter? It seems that it would be impossible to buy one of these things and have it fit correctly without major tailoring.

I just don’t understand why it is necessary to have pants on these. At some point, it seems to make more sense to buy a cute white dress–which I am suspicious is lurking at the far right of the above photo–that is more versatile (and when wearing, makes it easier to pee without getting completely naked).