We got off at the same stop. Your oversized pleather jacket brushed my shoulder as you turned your shoulders to squeeze ahead of the crowd. You were in such a hurry to get on the escalator and stand still. As you were slowly riding up, you turned and spit a loogie into the air that somehow landed like a soft, wet bullet on the tracks. It was such a big loogie that for a moment I thought it splashed me but I told myself it was probably just rainwater leaking from the ceiling because that’s a thing, right? You didn’t acknowledge the olympian force of your loogie. You didn’t admire the distance. You didn’t even watch to make sure it didn’t land on a person. You just kept riding up as if that loogie didn’t deserve better. I liked the way the back pockets of your jeans had sparkly horseshoe designs and how you were talking on a flip phone because I didn’t even know you could get a flip phone anymore.
In October 2013, my husband and I moved from Kansas City to Boston.
It’s been an odd transition full of snow, emotional eating and uncomfortable encounters with strangers. But because I’m a very generous person with very little dignity to protect, I’ve started documenting some of my more interesting interactions - all for your entertainment, of course.
What you’ll find in the posts to follow are true stories based on lies.
First, admit that you suck at drawing hearts. Your hearts are broken even when they are whole. They are lopsided, too skinny, too fat, too ugly, too shaky. Your hearts are so bad they aren’t even suitable for toilet paper much less the doodle margins of your legal pad.
Understand? If so, you’re ready to begin.
Get a piece of paper and a drawing utensil. I would recommend a pencil with a solid eraser because, as we’ve discussed, you are a complete failure when it comes to hearts. But if you’re confident in your ability to succeed, which can only be because you’re a delusional narcissist, then by all means, get a Sharpie or, why not a tattoo needle?
Next, pick a point on the page and draw something that looks kind of like an upside down, slanty ‘J’.
Done? Great. That was a really good try! You’re getting there.
I’m kidding. Whatever you just did is obviously crap. What do you think this is? Some slutty heart you dot your ‘i’s with? No, this is a mother fucking Valentine’s Day heart! And your ability to draw a good one is directly related to whether or not you’re worthy of love, so really focus because there’s a lot riding on this.
Once you can do an upside down, slanty ‘J’ that’s not the worst thing ever committed to paper, go ahead and do another one right next to it. Then, connect the ends.
Now there’s literally no way you didn’t fuck this up. Are your upside down ‘J’s even? Doubt it. Do your points meet? Probably not. Is it centered and equal on each side? Maybe, TO A BLIND PERSON!
Get it together. You’re not a five year old. If you can’t draw a beautiful metaphorical interpretation of the body’s major organ, then maybe you don’t deserve to have a valentine. Ever think of that? Of course not because it probably never occurred to you that all of your problems stem from the fact that you’ve spent your whole life littering the world with the most depressing, repulsive hearts ever.
If it helps, pretend you’re forgiven for that. Then immediately start over. And this time, try to be less of a piece of shit. Years from now when you don’t end up dying alone, you’ll thank me for this timely overdose of tough love. I promise.
Just think of Destiny’s Child and rephrase your answer seven times, preferably in a yelling, sing-song tone as this will be the most powerful way to get your point across.
1. I’m a survivor
2. I’m not gon give up
3. I’m not gon stop
4. I’m gon work harder
5. I’m a survivor
6. I will survive
7. Keep on survivn’
Are you socially awkward, shy or just plain ugly? Don’t worry. Here are 5 tips that will help you overcome your disabilities and decrease your chances of dying alone!
1. Paint the word “FLIRT” on your nails. Hands can be very sexy as long as they aren’t old or carny-like. You can use this valuable real estate to say something about yourself that’s also a command to others. This is also a great way to demonstrate your minimal intelligence, which is a major turn on for most men.
2. Eat a donut in a low-cut shirt. You want to draw attention to your most feminine areas, which are your mouth and tits. So eat a donut (which is comes in a conveniently suggestive shape) and as the crumbs drop into your chestbutt crevasse, pick them out one by one and eat them, sexily.
3.If a cute guy caught your eye, the best way to get him to notice you is to create a situation that requires physical contact. Of course, this physical contact should be as sexual as possible so your best bet is to pretend to choke. If the guy is worth it, he will give you the heimlich maneuver and guess what? That’s basically second base which means you’re almost accidentally pregnant and that much closer to locking him down forever!
4. Obsessively lick your lips. This is how all sex was initiated in the 90s. And let’s be honest, your lips are probably super chapped and kind of gross. Licking them will make them worse, but in the moment it will seem like the most deliberately hot thing you’ve ever done.
5. Have your period in your pants and try to make the stain resemble a heart. This will distract from your horrifying pear-shaped figure and confuse the guy into thinking of you in terms of other, sexier shapes.
Note: If you are a lesbian, this very concise and pragmatic list does not apply to you. Flirting with a woman is a completely different story. All you have to do is compliment her and then ask her a question about herself. If done correctly, you should only have to repeat this once before her clothes just fall off.
YOU: I love your hair!
YOU: Are your pubes ombre style too?
(She’s naked now.)
If you feel it coming on, or out, just shove that little monster back up the shoot and clench for the next 8 hours.
That kid will thank you for your pain after you’re dead.
You’re at a nice restaurant.
The waiter comes to your side and whispers into your face.
You order the filet and remember the ‘t’ is silent. (Good job.)
The waiter asks, “How would you like it done?”
This part is crucial. You glance around the table. Everyone is looking at you to give your answer before resuming conversation. You hold the power.
You slam your menu closed. “I want it done right now,” you say. The waiter blinks and attempts to clarify his question. You don’t have time for that shit.
"I said, I want it done RIGHT. FUCKING. NOW." You look around at the table and smile like a pageant queen on acid.
"So, John, you were telling us about your summer home in Tahoe…" you say. The waiter exits with a dismissive wave of your hand as John nervously goes on about granite countertops and indoor waterfall hot tubs.
"Are all the bathroom floors heated?” you ask John.
The waiter reappears with your steak before anyone else’s food.
You eat, and allow everyone to watch.
"It’s not rude. It’s modern," you say.
They all laugh like they understand.
It’s hard to know what to do when something tragic happens. Especially when it happens so far away yet feels so close to home. Words seem useless. I feel both obligated to speak and moved to silence. What’s normal now? How do we go back to a daily routine of fart jokes and pictures of cats? What can I offer that won’t seem disrespectful or ignorant to the situation at hand?
There are times when laughter can help move the world forward in the face of tragedy. We’ve seen it happen before. But the line is blurry and fine. As a comedian, how do you know where to contribute? What’s appropriate? Do you side with silence? Or do you carry on, not without acknowledgement of the horrible events that transpired, but in the spirit of helping people readjust and refeel?
Many comics were chastised yesterday for tweeting jokes as news was breaking about the Boston Marathon bombings. Some of them, like me, quickly read the news and deleted their tweet in a panic. Others soldiered on. They weren’t making crass or disrespectful jokes about the situation, they were simply pushing forward in spite of it, offering up a laugh to anyone capable of having it. I don’t see anything wrong with that. In fact, I admire those comedians and writers for their bravery and for understanding that this might be when the world needs their voice the most.
Still, it’s hard to know what to say. It’s hard to feel like joking when just yesterday a darkness took over as humanity’s evil side was once again revealed. But with that darkness comes a goodness (even if it’s in the form of a few cheap laughs), bravely trying to bring some light back into the world. As I click refresh on Witstream.com every few minutes, I notice there are fewer posts than usual - perhaps it’s a purposeful silence or perhaps some of us just haven’t figured out how to solidier on yet. But I also notice the site has not glorified the event with a category title, and to that I say - thanks for encouraging what’s right and making me proud to be a part of you.
As I watched CNN last night I realized I was hanging on every word Anderson Cooper pried out of his vulnerable witnesses. It was when Cooper started interviewing someone in Newtown, CT on how they felt about this tragedy that I snapped out of my daze and, drunk on grief, angrily changed the channel. I want to be informed by the news, not accidentally “entertained.” I could go on forever about sensationalized media coverage and the damage infotainment has done to the American psyche, but that’s not really what this is about.
This is about limits. Knowing when and how to speak is the same as knowing when to change the channel. We all hunger for entertainment. We don’t need to fall into the hands of a news station hopped up on ratings to get it. We don’t need to feel guilty for turning our attention to something else. We don’t need to be uncomfortable when we laugh at something that’s funny.
So as we come together and begin to pick up the pieces left behind in the aftermath of this tragic event, let’s try to do so with open hearts, less judgement and more understanding because shit is dark enough. And should you find yourself hungry, know that there’s a never-ending feed of people who want nothing more than to entertain you, lovingly distract you, and make you laugh because they are fighting for the good side.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a fart to tweet about…
Only sing Aretha Franklin’s “Respect” when you do karaoke. Also, start chain smoking. People respect women who appear determined to die young.
The old way says to dress for the job you want. But the modern way is to say what you want on a t-shirt and wear that because pant suits are fucking stupid. At the end of the day, you don’t want to just tell your boss and coworkers that you demand respect, you want to show them, preferably in a message stretched across your tits.
Start small. Try to earn the respect of a house plant by not killing it immediately. Then try to earn the respect of your pet* by hosting a tea party in its honor or buying it a sassy accessory, such as a pair of shoes or a hat.
Once you’ve earned the respect of plants and pets, you’re ready to move on to real people.
So if it’s your roommate’s respect you desire, try leaving only your nicest bras and underwear laying around the house so they realize that there’s more to respect than what’s on the surface. Also, hang a tampon on the door handle of your room when it’s that time of the month because strong communication is a key to respect.
When it comes to earning the respect of your significant other, try withholding sex to make up for that time you slept with him on the first date. But if that doesn’t work, offer up a threesome with someone who is much hotter than you. In general, you’ll want to completely stop pooping, farting, crying, eating, talking, feeling and/or doing anything human around him because that’s super unattractive and unattractive is just another word for unrespectable.
Lastly, If you want your children to respect you, never explain how babies are made so they won’t know you’re a silly slutty slut who had unprotected sex on the first date. If it’s too late for that, remember: children are stupid and you can just buy their respect/love or put them up for adoption.
*Cats are the exception to this advice due to centuries of hard data proving they are evil assholes who want to murder you in your sleep.
1. Demand a 28% markdown on everything you buy to compensate for the 72% you make compared to your male counterparts. If the merchant refuses your requests, show him your tits.
2. Buy “international” lady friends via a mail order bride site.
3. Say “Yay!” a lot.
4. Have your period.
If you’re under 30:
Sleep with your boss.
Why? He’s older, has money, a life, a family, receding hairlines and a creepy stare — who wouldn’t want to hit that? If you’re going to make it in this world, you’ve got to play the game and climb the professional ladder with your vagina.
But be prepared to accept the fact that if he fires you after you sleep with him it’s probably because you’re terrible at sex…and, obviously, your job.
If you have a female boss, she’s probably an angry lesbian so try to seduce her by wearing sensible shoes and preparing meals for her over an open fire kindled by your burning bras. But if she’s straight, get her in a vulnerable state by giving her reason to think that her husband is having an affair with another woman and then start having an affair with her husband.
If you’re over 30:
Give up. You missed your opportunity. Focus all your energies on getting pregnant since you probably have 5 minutes before all your eggs die and Kathy Bates could play you in a movie.
I’m starting a new feature on this blog.
Why? Because I’m bored of having a blog I don’t post anything on, okay? Forgive me for being a slave to your entertainment and kind of a lazy writer.
I’m also doing it because, let’s be real, it’s hard being a ladyperson in today’s world! I mean, somedays I wish I could park in a handicap spot just because I have a vagina. But perhaps things aren’t quite so dire. Perhaps I can shed some light on the two X chromosomes that cast so many shadows of doubt. Perhaps all we need is someone to give us overly simplified and generally unhelpful advice on living and working successfully with a vagina.
I am selflessly, courageously and defiantly volunteering to be that person for you.
Here’s how this is going to work: Anywhere from once a week to twice a day to seemingly never I will post another topic under Modern Advice For The Modern Woman.
This advice will come from my personal bank of lessons learned the hard way or will be completely made up, depending on the day and/or my mood. The advice will almost always be in poor taste and never meant to be taken seriously unless noted otherwise. As a reader, I hope you will contribute in whatever way you see fit.
Are you ready to have another thing to ignore on Tumblr?
Cool. Let’s change the world!
Did it ever occur to you that maybe I put that piece of spinach between my teeth on purpose just to find out who my real friends are? Of course not. But now you know life is full of tests and you failed this one because I walked around for hours smiling like an idiot and no one said anything except for one person.
So thanks for being my REAL friend, lady in accounting whose name I don’t know.
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