Friday, October 23, 2009
So a couple things have inspired today's post. One I'm at school waiting to meet with my students to go over their essays that are due next week and I have alot of time to blow, two I finally finally after three years of doing this here darn blog, installed a stat counter. Wow, was it eye opening. First off waaaaaaaay more people read the blog than I thought. Most of them are coming from Jessica's website and Jezebel. Which hey, is way cool. I'm totes flattered. Also, from places like Minnesota and Seattle?! Vhat? Boston, Alex is that you? Awesome. A shout out to my Internet homie in Poland. Who are you?
Well, once I realized people were actually reading this I decided to take a slightly less fart around attitude and write an actual article type thing. I've decided to address's advice columns. One advice website in particular. If you hop around the Internet and use your noodle you might be able to put two and two together. This site makes me want to poke my eyeballs out with shrimp forks, if you don't know what website I'm referring to, consider yourself lucky and enjoy the free advice.
Honest to Dawg!
My new advice column!!!! Aka Life Advice aka the ‘Menz’. Things to try:
Wear stained underwear on a first date. Guess what? If you take it off he WON’T GIVE A SHIT IF IT’S DIRTY. If you keep it on he’ll never know it’s stained. So you know, WHO GIVES A CRAP?! A real life boy told me this and when I said, 'really?!' he looked at me like I was insane.
Burp and or ‘accidently’ fart on a date. Guess what, he’s done these things too. And if he runs away or gets grossed out you should try one of two things 1. Date a grownup 2. Be happy that the universe has removed one more horrible shallow man from getting in the way of finding the manz who will love and respect you for who you are.
3. Smile, laugh, say, “I disagree” when he says something you disagree with. He will.
4. Compliment one girl every day on something other than her a. hair, b. outfit, c. boyfriend. Oh, that has nothing to do with man related things.
5. If you go to the gym or have a gym membership take the New Yorker or a book and a bag of chips. Read and eat them while sitting on the bike machine. Then take a shower and go home.
6. Sing out loud in your car while stuck in freeway traffic. If you are next to someone smoking, role down your window and ask for a cigarette.
7. Wear makeup if you want don’t wear it if you don’t. Meh, who cares? Treat yourself to a chocolate shake from In N Out instead. It will bring more pleasure than a forty dollar anti wrinkle cream, you crazy baby faced twenty something weirdo!!!!
Myths about boys/men:
That they are boneheaded babies
That they ‘don’t get it.’ Bullshit.
That they mature slower than us- not so, we don’t hold them to a high enough standard.
Don’t wreck yourself for a slimeball. If he doesn’t see you now no amount of ‘how to snag a guy’ advice will bring you into focus. Also, never let a big fat sexist man named Greg Behrendt tell you that again. I've just absolved him of his good will gesture on our behalf and will tell you this for free. Thank you Greg, we got the memo, now go away.
George Bush isn’t dumb. George Bush is evil. We’ve been too kind.
If you follow these rulz, it might take awhile for you to find a ‘proper’ manz, but that leads us to the most important part: THATS OKAY. Learn to be happy alone. You’re going to wind up alone someday anyway, even if you win the hetero life lottery and it’s blissful, the human heart drifts and wanders into dark and shallow currents, you need to learn to face sadness head on. You might find that it’s not that bad and in fact empowering. As Julio said on the Biggest Loser before he got packed up and shipped back home ‘I used to make fun of those people that picked the fatty things off their plates, but there’s a certain strength in it.”
Don’t take advice from blog advice columns. Especially shallow nineteen fifties blog advice columns disguised as edgy hip blog advice columns. You’re smarter than that.
Also, I'm vain, narcissistic, moralistic, insecure, preachy, condescending and need to take all of my own advice. Read this with a grain of salt.
I love you, Nikki.
Not really, I don’t really love you at all, I don’t really know you, well some of you I’m sure. Maybe I love like two percent of you, but who cares. You love you. That’s what really matters.