Put Away Your Scarf

There is an time and a place when it could potentially be appropriate to wear a scarf. In Los Angeles, that time, though still a stretch, could be the two days a year the temperature falls below 60 degrees Fahrenheit. That time would definitely not be a perfect 76 degree Fahrenheit mostly sunny day, despite the fact you passionately believe it completes your trendy hipster ensemble.

Put it away until December if you must have it. Please.

Five Reasons My Rommate Would Weird You Out

Everyone who reads this has probably heard at least a little (but more likely a lot) about my roommate. Yes, she is a fifty + year old cat lady who definitely lives up to the eccentric generalization that just popped into your mind. I am not complaining, I love hanging out with people who are old enough to be my grandparents and I could not possibly discriminate against fifty + year old spinster cat ladies, as a woman well on my way to being one myself. So not complaining, but I do find her entertaining at times, perhaps you will as well:


1. She does not shower in her own bathroom. Instead, she takes a full suitcase full of God knows what to the 24 Hour Fitness down the street where she showers almost every day. Besides for the fact I think she has turned her shower into a makeshift overflow closet, there is nothing wrong with her bathroom.

2. She hates gay people but regularly shares a bed with her girlfriend. I was outraged when Proposition 8 passed, my roommate on the other hand said "GOOD! I voted Yes! Maybe if there weren't so many gays around here I'd have a boyfriend!". That is questionable reasoning in itself, but it is all the more odd when I see her female friend spend the night for several days in a row and sleep in the bed with her instead of on the empty couch.

3. She drinks Costco brand SlimFast-like "Weight Loss Shakes" constantly. Then she bakes big cakes and cooks pasta for us. Perplexing. But delicious. I love pasta and cake.

4. She chooses to live in a run-down apartment in West Hollywood with a 20-something single woman. When she is employed, which may be rare, but it apparently happened more often before I moved in, she makes upwards of $60,000 a year. You could totally afford a decent one bedroom apartment (by yourself) in Los Angeles on that salary. Instead, she has stayed in the same West Hollywood 2 bedroom apartment for 25 years and complains about her neighborhood dating prospects.

5. She loves old school West Coast gangster rap. I couldn't make that up if I tried.

Attractiveness Disparities Are Not Cool

Is there anything more enraging than an individual you find attractive on the arm of another who is significantly less attractive or perhaps even strikingly unattractive? I am not messing around with this whole being shallow thing so I will just throw it out there: NO.

It's equally irritating: the cute guy who dates the fugs girl, maybe the not-so-cute guy who COULD date the cute girl but instead dates the fugs girl. I don't want your life story or a grand explanation about dating for personality instead of looks. Unless there is a Porsche involved or a shared trust fund allowance factor, you men have perpetuated unrealistic ideals of how we are so supposed to look so this whole not shallow business is unacceptable.

Having Clevage

In my young life, I have already faced a number of uphill battles and seen my luck lapse when I try my hardest and really could have used a break in life. We all know challenges build character - mostly bitter, cynical character, but character nonetheless- and we also know that most people are like us and often feel like we get that short end of the stick. Let me tell you just how ironic it is, that after all my ambitious effort to succeed in life and transform myself into an independent, respectable woman, where I feel I get the most breaks: my boobs.

Not that I take them for granted, but it is painfully ironic that, aside from a little adolescent obsessing, it is one thing I have put ZERO effort into and my cleavage is pretty much the only consistent asset in my life that continues to serve me well.

I guess some luck is better than none.

Ass + Kiss = <3

We all like to feel good.

Having your ass kissed feels good.

Sometimes we like to make ourselves feel good.

Some people like to make themselves feel good more than others. I propose these are the people that feel the need to regularly kiss their own asses.

Kissing your own ass is cool for you: I mean, feeling good without actually being or doing something that will make anyone else want to kiss your ass is a good thing, because without you, nobody would kiss your ass and you might never feel good.

Still, if you are so used to kissing your own ass, you might forgotten that it feels a whole fuck of a lot better when someone else kisses your ass on their own account. Yep, for me, I am pretty sure I would rather wait for the off chance there is someone else out there who wants to kiss my ass instead of pretending that my inflated self is impressive enough that I need to kiss my own ass every hour of every day for the rest of my delusional life.

*muah*

How To Be A Single 20-Something Guy in Los Angeles

There is no city in the world like Los Angeles. Along with our now astronomical taxes, pretentious attitudes and overcrowded freeways, we stock only the highest quality single douchebag 20-something men. Here are a few quick tips on how to stay afloat as an asshole in LA:

-You must rank women's attractiveness by numbers, 1-10, 10 being the 'hottest.' I know you may have thought you couldn't do this after 10th grade - but you were wrong. If you are intoxicated in a public place on a Saturday night (bar, etc.) it's a good idea to verbally (loudly) exchange the numbers of each passing female with your boys. Don't even think about being discrete.

- Single does not in any way, shape or form mean not dating/fucking/whatever your preferred nomenclature is. You absolutely must be sexually linked or in the immediate pursuit of a sexual link with at least 3 women to be sufficiently 'single'. Any less and I guess you are just 'lonely.' Single is a power word! This or may not involve the non-verbalization of your intent to withhold commitment, possibly lying about your intent to withhold commitment and DEFINITELY the use of the phrase "it's not you, it's me..."

- Find the sluttiest girl in the room wherever you go and hit on her obnoxiously. This will substantiate your position as most douchey/most single guy in the room and probably scare away any of the relationshipy girls in observable proximity.

- Hit on women walking around while you are driving. Especially if there is more than one of you in the car. I am not very responsive to this, but it must work, or so many of you wouldn't do it.

-Write blog entries about your sex life. Or make a sex tape...actually, maybe only do the sex tape if you are a celeb. Even you wannabe LA singles who haven't actually gotten laid since your second year of college should totally do the blog thing though. It makes you look both desirable and artistic.

-Shop at Kitson on Melrose.

-Eat at Urth Cafe while you are at it. On the patio!

-Drive a BMW 3 Series or Mercedes C Series. Smart girls will know those are the low-end of luxury and think you should have gone with an Acura or Toyota, but the dumb girls will be impressed. I don't have to tell you, the less intelligent the better.

-Wear at least one of these items at all times: True Religion jeans, a scarf (even during summer), Ed Hardy t-shirt, a blingy watch, a shirt with a low v-neck.

These are only a few suggestions, but I hope they reveal the mindset, helpful behaviors, and basic material items necessary to make you the most douchey single guy ever. Best of luck to you!

Blogging

I told my dad to read my blog post about ex-boyfriends that I wrote a few weeks ago. I know men hate that feminist shit-talking stuff so he naturally left me a comment (which I never approved) asking something along the lines of "Don't you have anything better to write about?"

Do I? Wikipedia says "Many blogs provide commentary or news on a particular subject" and I have reached a hasty generalization, after reflecting on the small sample of blog material I have subjected myself to over the years,that a few of the most blogged-about subjects are politics, celebrity gossip, amateur movie reviews, and stories about stupid shit one does when they are drunk.

I can't talk about politics. I waste too much time watching crappy morning news shows and the same episodes of South Park over and over again to stay current on political events. When Anderson Cooper talks I am mostly just drooling over him. Plus, I can't compete with the Huffington Post or anyone smart/arrogant/pushy enough to engage in the discussions.

Celebrity Gossip is out of the question on account of Perez Hilton (and the comparatively inferior TMZ).

Movies. I cannot, in good faith, jump into the business, that many people who fancy themselves intelligent partake in, of publishing unimportant opinions on movies I have recently watched. Movies are great, I like them too, but I am not Roger Ebert and I realize that nobody cares if I enjoyed Milk or what my Oscar predictions are. It blows my mind how many people are confused about their role in the whole move watching and reviewing business.

As far as sharing with the world the beloved genre of moving drunk narratives: I can't even do that. Other people's drunk stories are surprisingly less exciting than your own, which presents a problem for anyone who has a strong desire to share them with the world. But see, even if my drunk stories are mildly entertaining (mostly humiliating) I rarely remember any of them, let alone enough to reveal a quasi-cohesive chain of events.

This is not Stuff White People Like. Sorry Dad, that I have no hope of ever being insightful, but I have diligently exhausted all of my readily available options. Still, I am comforted by the fact I am not confused about my blog entries and am not under the misguided notion, like so many others, that other people are interested.

This ALMOST Made Me Feel Tingley Inside..

I was SO in the mood to indulge in girly lovey-dovey cuteness this morning...after all, when I checked Facebook a bit ago and saw a high school friend I haven't seen since 2003 gave birth to her baby I got teary eyed. I checked Yahoo for the news headlines and saw this title: More People I Love Than Previously Thought.

Awwe. I read through the article, which made a distinction between romantic and obsessive love, the romantic which can endure the test of time and contribute greatly to an individual's overall health and happines. That's cute, right?

I guess I sort of glazed over the first paragraph (I am still on coffee cup no. 1) because the statistic there reads: "Instead about 13 percent of people reported high levels of romance in their long-term relationships, in a new study published in the March issue of the journal Review of General Psychology." Only 13% of people in long-term relationships are romantic? Is that it? And that is more than what they had previously thought? I don't know about you, but unless we are talking about the unemployment rate, 13% is pretty low and not super brag-worthy. That article officially fails at making me feel, as Jasleen would call it, "rommantical". I am shamelessly resorting to cute kitty pictures.


http://news.yahoo.com/s/livescience/20090320/sc_livescience/morepeopleinlovethanpreviouslythought

Just A Few Quick Thoughts On the Morning Newscast

I love my morning news shows. Anyone who knows me can attest to the fact that I love the traffic report but I also like to stay on top of the weather forecast (damn I sound boring) and enjoy watching the news and listening to news anchors that are slightly unprofessional and sometimes entertaining.

Being as neurotic as I am, there are naturally things that bug the shit out of me on the morning shows. The less severe, is the weather man, Mark Kriski's, heinous taste in suits and ties. Not all weather reporters can be hot like Jackie Johnson, I know. I also realize that weather men have a reputation for bad suits and ties (with sportscasters being a very close second). However, Mr. Kriski's suits are always too big, he wears too many pinstripes and his ties are always too busy and never coordinate.


Worse, I hate it when Sam Rubin talks about what happened the night before on crappy reality TV. Not that the morning news show is intended to be award-winning journalism, but reality TV is the anti-newsworthy. It just makes no sense. If I cared about what happened on American Idol and Dancing With The Stars, I would have watched and would have no need for the repetitive recap. If I didn't know what happened and needed the full-report on what the judges said and who got eliminated, it probably means that I don't give a shit.

Things I am Thankful For: Being Able to Effectively Breathe

With absolutely no warning, besides my recently diseased also unemployed and home all the time roommate, I woke up with a grotesque cold yesterday.

That is the nastiest feeling: a dry foul-tasting throat, a runny nose and an aching body. Anyways, last night I had one of the worst night's sleeps I've had in a while. I alternated between too hot and too cold, tossed and turned, switched out my hot pillow for a cool one and stared at the cottage-cheese ceiling in frustration for more time than I actually spent in my normal restless sleep.

After these past few days of warm weather, no air conditioner, lots of sneezing and struggling for air, I promise not to take my health for granted for at least a few weeks.