And Then I Said...Stop Flirting with Your "Best Friend"

Top 5 Things NOT to Do While in a Relationship

1. Talk about your ex all the time. 

 

If I hear another dumb sentence about how great your ex was then I'm going to shove something sharp down your throat. I don't care if she was Angelina freaking Jolie. I don't want to hear ANOTHER WORD.

2. Compare your girl/boyfriend to your ex.  Ever.

 

I am not your ex for a reason. That reason being because your ex is not me. Duh. There's nothing else to say about this.

3. Say dumb stuff like "Man, I'd hit that." While staring at someone else. Not your S.O.

 

If I go to a restaurant, a mall, a parking lot, a sidewalk, with you I expect you to pay attention to me. And even if you're not, I expect you to PRETEND goshdangit.  I'm not turned on by your weird attempts at making me jealous. Yes, I can see her Double D's flailing, I don't need you to rub it in. Jerk. Why am I with you again?

4. Spend inordinate amounts of time with your "best friend." Who is of the opposite gender.

 Unless your "best friend" is a dog I don't want to see you kissing her. Or him. Or whatever. Stop pretending you don't want to get with your "really really wonderful best friend" who you'd "never date because you're like siblings" and just get with them already. I'll go find my best friend--cake.

5. Post pictures on Facebook of you with your "best friend," with hearts and smiles in the comment section. 

 I do not want to see bullcrap pictures of you and your "best friend" hugging and rough-housing in adorable Instagram settings. Nope.  Those pictures are either with me-YOUR GIRLFRIEND AHEM--or no one.  

Any other dating faux pauxes?  Let me know!

Uno Dos Tres, Let's Kill Pitbull Already

Picture this.  A recording studio.  J-Lo or Jay-Z or somebody with a hyphen in their name decides to lay down a pop-ish track to create another top 40 piece of worthless crap song.  The beat drops.  And suddenly...DALE!!!
Pitbull has arrived to make his 11 millionth "feat. Pitbull" top hit. 
Seriously, does the man hide in recording studios?  Hiding in wait to jump in the middle of a song with a gallant "Mr. Worldwide!"? Or is his agent just an OCD perfectionist with a need for power?

Either way, with an infamous "uno dos tres" we're off, topping charts, surprising no one.  Except me.  What is this scary white bald dude who only sings in broken Spanglish, parading under a ton of crappy aliases like "Mr. 305," and "Mr. Worldwide" (What does that even mean??!?), doing in EVERY single top hit?  Maybe this is chicken or the egg, but does the song he features in become a top hit by itself and he just happens to be there, or does he feature in them, and THEN it becomes a top hit, BECAUSE he was in it??

If the latter is the case, I'm not sure I want to be a part of this society anymore.

I'm not sure if any song is safe from this crazy cuban anymore.  He started out chanting the everlasting words "Hotel Motel Holiday Inn" and progressed to featuring in everything wrong with the pop industry.  Out of 79 singles he's released, he's a featured artist in 48. 48 singles that have featured Pitbull. That's almost 49 which is almost 50 which is half of a hundred.  Basically Pitbull's featured in half of 100 singles.  Incredible.

Regardless, as we all know, Mr. 305 is conquering the radio one song at a time.  Soon he'll even be on the Indie channels and public talk radio stations, I'm sure. In my opinion, he's doing a great job at being the only rapper that our generation will recognize. He's basically the best rapper there ever was.  Most of his listeners don't understand Spanish but all enjoy yelling UNO DOS TRES every 20 seconds.  Thank you Pitbull for making me feel personally connected to the Latino culture. 

Retaliation

Dear Upstairs Neighbor,

If you're wondering why I was vacuuming at 6 am on a Saturday morning it is because I was/am mad at you for having LOUD sex while I was TRYING to sleep! 

Ok, I understand that you're a belly dancer and you've got to get it on or whatever.  Just, please, QUIT WITH THE OBNOXIOUS MOANING. And when your dog starts barking at you....DO SOMETHING. IT'S 2 IN THE MORNING AND I'M UNABLE TO THINK IN BETWEEN THOSE ANNOYING GROANS.

I'm not bitter that you're having sex. Really.  I don't care if you have sex with that huge, no-neck, tattooed beast of a man I saw you entering you entering your part of our tri-plex with at 1.  Nope, I really don't care if you have sex with him.  Even if it happens right above my room. What I DO care about is that YOU FREAKING SHUT UP.

So, if you woke up at 6 this  morning after a busy, ahem, night, and felt irritated that my vacuum was going and I was simultaneously singing "Call Me Maybe" at the top of my lungs, now you know why.  My roommates weren't even home so I wasn't disturbing anyone BUT YOU.

Hope you're wandering around as groggily as I am today.  Jerk.

Sincerely,
Me.

Writer's Block

Guys,
(Or girls, if you are a hardcore feminist)

I have writer's block. I really do. I don't know what to write about. I have several good rants that I can think of: hipsters, Pitbull, modern music, why I'm the only person who likes All-American-Rejects anymore, gas prices, college prices, my landlord....BUT I can't put them into words. Here. Have an image:

This image is exactly how I feel right now.  Right now my percentage of wins in Solitare is about...5%. Great.

Back to writer's block.
Those of you who don't write don't understand at all what we go through. We being the writing community. We being me pretending to be part of the writing community.  (And yes, I've written novels. They're just sitting on my computer un-published and un-read. It's fine.)  Writer's block is a sickness. It's like you have so many things to say. And you start to type and the clicking of the keys or the music in the background (which is right now, "It Ends Tonight." Stop judging) or all those thoughts swirling can't settle into something comprehensible, let alone readable. 

So we wait. Or at least I do.  Trying to write through writer's block is like trying to push through an invisible wall of cheese.  You think you're going somewhere and then you just end up smothered in cheesiness and you smell like Cheddar.  Weird analogy, but now I'm craving a grilled cheese.

Moving on. 

Thoughts swirling, right.  So those thoughts are all trying to sift through one another and you think, naively, "I'm going to write through it." WRONG. You can't.  All the words look and sound stupid. You feel amateur and illiterate.  You throw out words in your work like, "Supercilious," and "Exorbitantly," and all that does is convince you that you actually have no grasp of the English language.

So.  My small and probably non-existent group of readers--forgive my lack of attentiveness.  I need to get rid of this block and come back with a great post concerning Pitbull or How To Make the Best Grilled Cheese Ever.

Until then....

Why Nicki Minaj Should Get Out Of My Life

A conversation between Nicki and I:

N: "Starships were meant to fllyyyy, hands up and touch the skyyyy. Let's doo this one more tiiiime" *rap-like words ensue*

G: Thank you, Miss Minaj for that garbled crap.  Please, sit down.  You're done.
N: "Ok, I get it, let me think I guess it's my turn. I think it's time to put this p*ssy on your sideburn."

G: No...No. Nobody wants you to do that. Nobody wants Herpes either, so  keep your pants on.

N: "I beez in the trap, beez beez in the trap!"
G: ......That's the best rapping you can do Minaj? Really?  If I wanted to hear about you having sex I'd just have to...listen to anything else you feature in/sing in.  NOW SHUT UP OR DIE.

And that is how a conversation would go with her.  That is, if she decided she was going to be a human for the conversation and say intelligible--no--coherent--words, instead of simply yelling/grunting frightening sounds.

Here she is.  Before she was plastic (or, at least, before she was 95% plastic) when she first joined the rap group Young Money.  And here she is before/after surgery:

Does she ever pop/melt in heat?  Have her lips ever deflated after going from a cold place to a hot place or vice versa really quickly?
And also...how did this plastic slut get to be so big in our country?? And no, I'm not referring to the size of her balloon boobs or shelf-butt.  I'm talking about her popularity.   Half the time she doesn't know which character she wants to be. British, Rapper, Psycho...Half the other time she's repeating her name as though we don't already know it. That isn't music! That's not even rap!  What the heck is it?  Why is this thing famous in our society? Paris Hilton? Famous slut.  Pretty. Ok, I get it.  Brittney Spears? Pop "singer."  Lots of problems to dramatize in the media. I get it. Nicki? What the heck is going on? Why is that whore on my radio?!

And just for ONCE I would like to see her in a t-shirt,  (no Nicki a T SHIRT not a corset. They don't even sound the same) loose jeans, and minimum makeup.  (Minimum because I think after all that makeup there's probably a fine layer of chemicals that won't come off anymore.)  And heck, she'd probably be mildly attractive!  Except for that mouth.  She could stuff an entire cake in that mouth, geez.

But now I'm just being rude and shallow. 
It's just that I keep seeing this kind of image of her:

And this image: 

And I can't help feeilng concerned that she's either mentally insane, or we are. Either way, could she please sink back to anonymity? Thanks.

Dental Hatred

Where can I buy this book??

I hate the dentist. Not personally.  It's the "He's a great guy but I hate his profession" syndrome.  I never have cavities, but it's like every time I walk in  they conspire against me--whispering in undertones about ways to make me uncomfortable and/or nervous.  Everyone dislikes going to the dentist.  We don't want people in our mouths. We don't want weird sounds emananting from scary objects approaching our gums.  We don't want to be in the compromised and vulnerable position of laying on our backs with our mouths open!  It's a proven fact that redheads fear the dentist more than people with other hair colors. And it's also a proven fact that no matter how nice your dentist is, he's secretly an evil being. 


I went in today.  I had no cavities. I had little tarter. But of course, the hygienist uses that new invention--I call it Satan--the electric tartar scraper.  It makes a highpitched noise akin to nails on a chalkboard, and this is, consequently, enough to get my palms to sweat and my "fight or flight" syndrome awakened.  Needless to say I was already on edge. 

Then I hear that dreaded phrase from dentists, "Hmm what is that?..." That has got to be one of the worst feelings ever--invoking sinking dread while watching their face turn curious as they probe something in your mouth.  "That" turned out to be a salivary stone. Seriously, who gets these?  Me!  I didn't even know my salivary glands were under my tongue! Now I have a build-up of calcium in them?  What is this?!

Why are dentists such awful people?! It's like no matter how confident you feel going into the dentist office, you will feel exponentially more awful walking out.  Even if your teeth are beautiful, you might have a salivary gland stone now!! Or, if you're one of the lucky ones with absolutely nothing wrong, your gums are still sensitive from being attacked and you're stinging with fresh guilt from the "FLOSS MORE!" chastisement. 

I can't take it anymore. 

To Femininity And Beyond!

Top Ten Reasons Why Being a Girl is So Much Better

1) Periods. You get to shed your uterus every month, like a snake. Everyone loves snakes.  Everyone also loves mood swings. Shake it up, I always say. 

2) Hair! You get to shave or wax about 90% of your body hair, but get to keep the hair on your head long and luscious, lest you be labelled a dyke.  You get to spend lots of money on expensive conditioners to lather into your hair, giving you an excuse to wash your hair twice. (What could be better!)

3) Pregnancy.  If you want to fool around and be sexually promiscuous you get the thrill of knowing that at any moment you could mess up and then be committed to a long, laborious (pun intended) pregnancy, and then a life as either a single mother, or married to the partner you didn't quite remember the name of so you labelled him "Potential Father of My Bastard," in your phone.

4) Birth Rights.  You get allll the privileges of birthing a baby. Remember, if you choose to go natural, you will get to experience the most excruciating pain there is to experience, next to breaking your femur.  Who doesn't want to go through that?!  If you do choose to go with an epidural or c-section, you still get fun things like c-section scars (battle scars, really!) or a torn up vagina.  New experiences galore! Remember, there's a good chance you'll be fat, oozing with various bodily fluids, and stretched out after the birth, so you'll be really glad you have a crying baby at 4 in the morning to distract you from those little diddies.

5) You get to worry about everything incessantly!  Personal appearance, sex appeal, weight, and even the things you can't control--like height and nostril diameter.

6) Other girls.  Other girls are wonderfully dramatic creatures who will hate you and try to destroy you if you so much as casually mention that their boyfriend looks like a hungover Mick Jagger.

7)  Feminism.  Feminist?  More power to you, literally!  Join the lesbians and bitter, single, working women of the world in the pursuit of more power!  Or, if you're not a feminist, you get the treat of being labelled "traditional" and sneered at by women who are far superior to you.  Middle of the road? Don't feel left out--feminists and non-feminists alike will both despies and disdain you!

8) Bras.  Because everyone wants to strap part of their body into uncomfortable pushed up positions or be considered revolting and saggy. 

9) Poor Driving.  Whether the stereotype is true for you or not, you don't have to worry...it is assured for you that men will never, ever, EVER, trust your driving.  Whether you can read a map or not, whether you can parallel park or not, you will never have to do any of those things, so long as you have a man.  HE will know how to drive like a NASCAR racer and navigate with the skills of a pirate king himself.  It'll be like having a chaffeur--who either won't let you drive or will nag and grumble about your driving skills! And it's free!

10) Sexist Pigs.  No matter what, you will always encounter a sexist pig.  There is no need to worry if he is or isn't going to pop into your life and stare at your chest, grinning slightly, while you explain that the gas pump isn't accepting your credit card.  He will always leer at you when you feel least attractive. He will whistle at you if you crouch down to tie your shoe. He will  make rude comments to his friends audibly enough that you can hear them. Reliable, perverted, and undressing you mentally, he's as reliable as the sun rising in the east.