“All the Boys to the Yard”

24 Sep

So what is up with the age-old expression of “when it rains, it pours?”

It’s freaking true… and it’s drrrrrriving me nuts.

I’ll spend 9 months sitting on my couch eating Cheezits  and whipped cream out of the can,  crying into my Facebook wondering if this so-called person they call “cupid” is real and whether or not I should write a literature review on the very significant reason he DOESN’T have a soul and BAM!… out of nowhere comes dudes crawling out of the woodwork.

Like all of a sudden I’ve found my fairy godmother and her food stamps ran out and she got forced off unemployment.


And as soon as it came, being entertained on an hourly basis is ripped from under me and all of a sudden instead of having someone to help open the wine for me, I find myself just smashing the top off hoping I don’t die from glass shards in between sobs. Ok maybe too much… I have my thirties for those shenanigans (It’s the little things in life to look forward to).

Perhaps it’s like a thing where women cycle on a yearly basis and men can smell out desperation. Or perhaps it’s the fact that as a single woman you can only take so much and you give up on men, completely morphing into an awesome replica of Angelina Jolie in Wanted and the boys just can’t take your badassness and must have more (or are scared of taking a bullet through the head on a hormone fueled angry woman-on-the-edge-rampage). Or perhaps it’s just freaking ANNOYING.

I don’t need 10 million dates in one week. Pressure like that will make any woman keel over and pull the blanket over her head, claiming limerance (my smart friend taught me that word… it’s a real thing.). I’m not looking for an okcupid kind of time. You know where creepy first dates abound and hysteria ensues with naked pizza eating at midnight after your “free meal of torture” I don’t know this from personal experience, oooofff cooooouuuurse.

I would just like a date maybe once every 6 weeks to three months to keep me wanting… to live.

This over kill and then drought (which conveniently comes during wedding season, the holidays, and when I’m feeling fat and ugly) is messing with my head. I’ve started wanting to do my own blood and hormone tests to see what’s different, or keep a food diary of the types of potato chips I’m eating… I must be sweating bar-be-que Lays this week which is why all the boys are “coming to my yard.”

The bigger issue, though, is how is it that at 27  with my shit in a pretty neat pile am I still validated by the fact that boys “think I’m pretty and want to date me?” In the last 6 months I’ve JUST decided I might want to date me… and maybe have REAL goals… and MAYBE want to GET IT TOGETHER (haha just kidding)…oh wait… maybe that’s it.


Nah, it’s definitely the potato chip sweat.


So let’s talk about first impressions.

13 Sep

My days on a college campus are several. And one thing that seems to be getting carried away is the lack of complete self-respect when it comes to presenting yourself in a positive light.

I realize sweats and gym clothes and flip-flops and UGGs (ugh) and generally looking like you rolled out of bed, are going through a divorce, your cat just died, or you have been swallowed into a vat of heaping depression is the “look” these days for most 18-22 year olds… and beyond on a campus. Congratulations. Reallll original. Said no one ever.

This trend is also seeping into daily life,  going out gear, and especially the go-to shopping uniform. But COME ON!

Do you realize that people make their first impression of you as a human being within the first 5 seconds of meeting you and that impression is based 90% on what you have decided to put on your body?

This is a SERIOUS issue that many young girls and boys (and older boys and girls… I do not discriminate based on age only outfits) are not taking seriously. Why would you want to put the impression out there that you are lazy, have zero taste, and generally have no respect regarding your appearance or the rest of the world that is going to have to see you? My eyes are burning!

Thus leading to an even bigger challenge of having to overcome that first impression in a future situation that you may want or NEED to be taken seriously or may be looking to benefit from the relationship. That hurdle to overcome a first impression is like a high jumper in the Olympics highest goal to overcome. And odds are you will be face-planting onto the pole nose first.

It is much easier to present yourself in a professional and adult manner in the beginning… and then run yourself into the ground by sticking your foot in your mouth or telling an off-color joke or bringing up politics later that will effectively ruin your image just as well (I have NO experience THAT whatsoever so don’t even ask…….)

People get it together. If you want to be taken seriously in a world where image is everything and jobs and future survival is not as easy as it looks on reality TV, you need to be taking the steps in daily life to set yourself up for networking and opportunities in the future. Pretty sure no one ever made it big with a sloppy bun and a hoodie sweatshirt. (Unless you put out… then maybe. 😉 )

Plus, if everyone is wearing the exact hideousness then how are you setting yourself apart from the crowd? Oh, wait, you aren’t. And no one is ever going to take you seriously or remember you. EVER.

Welcome to reality where the judgements are fast and harsh and the judges are around every corner.

When did watching something die become romance?

12 Sep

ImageSo call me jealous.

Call me crazy.

Call me maybe? (I deserve to be put down for that)

Call me whatever you want.

Just say it behind my back, please.

My new roommate seems to have magical ways with the men that are blowing my mind and getting me to thinking (yeah, I’m thinking, now IS the time to panic.)..It may be that the guys are all real young and desperate… or drunk (see previous post) OOOOR it may be her Swedish accent…whhhhooooo could ever know?!?… either way the girl is pulling in a plethora of arrangements from “gentleman callers.”

As each day passes with a new bouquet, I started to wonder when did flowers become a thing to show affection??

Think about this realistically.

You are KILLING something to WATCH IT DIE.

You could just save your $20 dollars and leave nature in all its beauty and glory and wonder and… too much??


I was there once… young and thinking that the only way I thought I would discover affection was through foliage and gold and jewels. (Silly, silly Lauren)

Don’t get me wrong… I’m still on the jewelry train. Now and forever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and……………….

But flowers are so overpriced and so useless and depressing. In three days they will be a dried up memory.

Most the times the arrangments are ugly anyways…depends on the grocery store or gas station of choice of course 😉 Plus, the dude has a 10% chance AT BEST of nailing the specific females’ flower, color, arrangement, scent, size, and vase of choice. Not the best odds. Personally, I don’t know ANY names of flowers but roses…………. and ummmmmmm tulips are a thing right? I can’t imagine what a man is thinking in the flower section. I bet they sweat alot and just give up, cover their eyes, and point. Seems legit.

However, I have had LOTS of conversations with other girls discerning the meaning of each type of flower and what their names are and what family they belong to and what event they are most suited for and what color and what size and when they come in season… and I definitely blacked it all out. Best. Skill. Ever.

When as women was this expected as a sign of admiration? Or when as men did this become a go-to idea?

Why can’t useful things be the new token of affection?

It IS 2012 and the new Iphone5 is out. Come on people, we should be updating our relationship habits with the times.

Like maybe show up to the door with a favorite DVD (you can get those for $5..and they last FFFFORREEVVEERRR… can you say S-T-E-A-L?), or tickets to a show, or pre-bought candy to sneak into the redicuously overpriced movie theatre, or booze is ALWAYS appropriate, or I’m in school… I can always use a USB (just make sure it’s pink and sparkly, DUH)… put some funny pictures on it or burn some music, or I mean…

Just hand me a $20 bill instead of flowers and the gifts just Keep. On. Giving. amiright??? This girl can always use a tank of gas and I’ll think of you every mile of the way. 🙂

One Question: Do you have one? And how many? And where is the nearest Chili’s? Ok that’s three questions.

11 Sep


So It has been a while. My bad. But I’m back… for now.

I am now settled and being productive… in hell… aka middle America… and don’t worry, it IS as terrible as it sounds.

However, one thing that comes with living in a college town, specifically one in the middle of nowhere (it’s like they dug this hole and let 20,000 hormone ridden zombies loose because that was the only sensible place to contain them all where they couldn’t hurt…anything but cows and corn) is the fact that the men are boys, and there is no way to escape them.


Little 18 year olds with huge egos and a lack of alcohol poisoning knowledge. Every Thursday- Friday it’s like WWIII and they start dropping like flies at 9 pm being carried out like wounded soldiers by their equally inebriated friends… “I’m ready to Paaaarrrrrtttyyyyyyyyy”. (Figure out how to hold your liquor or just stay home children. Hasn’t anyone heard of a rally puke?? 😉 GET IT TOGETHER!!)

The one good thing about being surrounded by teenagers is that they are too dumb to realize that you,  in fact, are not a teenager yourself (every time I get mistaken for 19… yeah that’s years-old… I can’t help blushing and wanting to laugh hysterically while simultaneously pinching their cheeks…they’re just so adddoorrraaabbbllleee) thus leading to being constantly carded for dates that one should NEVER go on anyways…The worst date I ever went on was to Chili’s where the man of the hour used his hands to shovel sour cream onto his tacos.

I was 18.

At 27 I would have shrieked and ran and taken at least 15 scalding hot showers and a minimum of 5 sessions of therapy.

Been there. Done that.

I digress.

Besides finding the fountain of youth in idiocy I have also discovered a growing trend that perhaps needs to be a new question box on Match. com. “Do you have any DWI’s?” And even more important “HOW MANY?!?!”

The first question holds a good chance that about 60% polled are going to have a DWI…depends where you are hanging out I would assume.

The second question… hold your breath and get your running shoes laced.

This DWI epidemic is an increasing problem in the single world, and when a female realizes that she either needs to dress appropriately for bike pegs,  drive to pick up her date herself, or just stay home and eat like Jared before he found Subway, the romance seems to go straight out the window.

When did this become a thing to worry about??

And it’s not just dudes, girls have them too.

Is it because we all hate our lives in this politically and economically toxic situation we find ourselves in, or are we seeing a generation come about that thinks the rules perhaps don’t apply to them and that they are so entitled to never get caught?

Either way, just keep arguing that I’m not 27 but 19 boys… and I’ll meet you at any Chili’s you want.

A Novel Has Lots of Chapters.

9 Aug

We all missed the boat. Dammit.

The older I get… I am after all almost 27… Ancienttttt… The more I view this life as a novel and our roles in it…. especially with love…. as chapters.

As independent females we are seeing a shift in what once was an age of one-marriage-for-life-to-ultimately-death that has been replaced with a focus on careers, “working on ourselves,” living in our parents basements until 30+, and a lack of interest in children and settling down. We no longer live by the mantra that marriage or a life-long partnership is a necessity. It is an option. We can support ourselves and have almost dominated the arena of A-sexuality. Sperm donor anyone? I think our love lives are no longer a one chapter story, but multiple chapters in which the further we get through the chapters the BETTER the story. There is also a greater freedom to control the plot, the guts to say no, and the false notion that there is something known as “better” in the dating world (PS there isn’t… we should have all married our first grade crushes that sniffed glue and pinched us on the playground… it’s all downhill from there… 7 year olds UNITE!)

Let’s all admit that first love, like the first chapter in a book, is the absolute hardest to get through, oftentimes when we look back also the most boring, however, the most important to lay the groundwork for what is to come. In first love we learn things about what we like, what we are looking for, more about who we are ourselves, and learn about the loss of naevity in love.  We identify with love. In the first chapter one thinks “This book SUCKS!! I quit! Stoooppp talking pppllleeaassseee!” but perhaps in this age we aren’t necessarily going to have one chapter in love, like maybe our parents or grandparents did. People get married and now we know how the story ends. Instead, I think there is a new wave of shelf-life romances in which each is highly significant, but due to the fact that we are all growing in our own independent endeavors we aren’t necessarily growing together, which is what leads to separations and divorces.

People today are looking out for themselves and it is okay to be single, to have fun, and to prolong settling down. Maybe marriage isn’t the answer. Maybe how it always has been, isn’t how it is going to work NOW. Maybe it is just about LOVE. We are individually continuing our own stories , and by having those long-term commitments and quick trysts that eventually all end, we are really just making our stories more interesting, creating a novel of experience, and furthering our quest for independence.

Perhaps it’s time to stop looking for forever and instead start looking at what is happening in front of us, and how this is going to impact the rest of story for the best, or sometimes just for the experience of the lesson of love.

Can you see it now?

5 Jul

Apparently when one becomes an adult, things change. Which, PS!!, I wish they had more classes for these things… not just how to use a condom(which that doesn’t seem to have sunk in with a majority of the population), but maybe more tips on how to do taxes, where to buy anti-wrinkle cream that tastes good, and how to budget when watching late night infomercials. Who do I need to write a letter to?!

I have discovered that one of those scintillating changes include acne getting a promoted title… and becoming “adult acne.” hawt.

Adult acne, as many of you know, is super fun!

Not really.

It’s a huge bitch.

I thought acne would stop when my raging hormone driven outbursts and bi-polar tendencies once a month were leveled out by the coming of age trek through college and into hell. AKA “Adult-dom.” 

But those seem to be sticking around too.

So basically, being adult is the same as being a kid you just get to have sex legally and make trips to the DMV for fun. My assumption that once I turned 18… or 21… or 25… or…30??…  my face would miraculously become  the photo shopped- porcelain- envy of all to behold…was apparently  ridiculous!! because I’m still applying anything green to anything red on my face like color wheel math or Christmas day is going to save the “situation” on my new adult version skin.

Think again.

I tried Bare Essentials … and it worked real well… but lucky for us they just discovered it is going to give cancer conveniently to the entire female masses… Which what isn’t amiright? I’m at the cancer stage where it’s not IF I’m gonna get it… it’s WHICH one am I going to get (taking bets now) and let’s hope either the guy who has the secret recipe to curing cancer gets it before me or I get the kind that goes real fast so I can die with my flaw ridden skin intact and bright red.

I also tried a Clarisonic… I really like it… on my patient days… you know those days when 2 minutes doesn’t feel like a year in a Chuckie Cheese at kid happy hour. Both painful.

But THEN my friend invited me to a “makeup” party. Ya know, one of those parties where you wanna go for the free food (and moral support offff coooourse 😉 )but you really don’t want to buy anything and it immediately turns into a see-saw of guilt and being a cheap ass for the whole evening, that you just end up drinking the entire booze section of the free table and go ahead and purchase the entire catalog that is offered… waking up the next day feeling as if you’ve hit rock bottom and promising yourself you’ll get your shit together… soon… and keep it in your wallet.

Well SOMETHING like that happened, but my purchase was not rock bottom… it was a ray of light from the heavens.

It’s called Jordan Essentials and everyone with sensitive skin, hard to deal with skin, or just skin at all needs to try it. (WARNING: If you don’t have skin then this is not for you.)

I got the oatmeal facial bar and am proud to announce I feel like dancing around with an umbrella and pulling my hair back for alllll the world to see.

They have makeup, self tanner, deodorant, lotion… basically EVERYTHING you could EVER want. (Besides anti- depression medication… and triple gallon sized bottles of wine… you have to go elsewhere for that.)

Jordan Essentials products are made with high quality ingredients such as, Shea Butter, Soy, Coconut oil, Dead Sea Salts, Beeswax, and Grapeseed oils. They avoid ingredients such as DEA, isopropyl alcohol, mineral oil, parabens, SLS/SLES and aluminum.

So you’re saying there’s only a 58.999999923451…% of it giving you cancer? Sign me up!!

Here’s the link.  http://www.myjestore.com/Nacy/

You’re welcome.

Rule #1: There Are NO Rules

28 Jun

It always blows my mind how often clothes can be construed to have rules. I take my friends shopping and they don’t think they are “allowed” to go outside of the box when it comes to dressing.

This is absolutely not so. If you can do anything when shopping (besides shopping only in the clearance section ;)) the #1 best thing is to have an open mind.

Clothes absolutely have no rules.

When you give clothes the power to have rules, it is the moment when your own style is not yours anymore. By making things your own you give yourself a trademark look and image. By wearing what the mannequin is wearing, you’re limiting the possibilities and functionality of your wardrobe and hiding your personality under the façade of limits.

When you see something on a mannequin, don’t limit yourself to only how the merchandiser or designer has categorized it. Be free about it. If you don’t like where the belt loops on a dress are hitting, you cut them off and raise or lower your belt to find the smallest part of your waist or the most flattering part for the look you want… or don’t even wear a belt at all. Also, you can even add your own belt if it is not included, or go with a different belt than what is sold with the dress altogether. If you only think you can wear a pencil skirt with heels because that’s what you have seen, try it with a sandal. If you don’t like where a skirt is hitting, you hike it up and secure it with a belt. Or hike it down to where you feel appropriate and wear a longer shirt. If you don’t like the bottom of a shirt, tuck it in or cover it with a belt, or cut it up!  If you don’t like where the sleeve is hitting or how the seam looks, roll it up. Play with things. Don’t limit yourself to only what you see or know. Move things around on your body. Put pieces together that you never would have. Find your inner creativity. Find lengths that fit your body type.

NEVER be limited to your “one size,” and don’t worry about the number.  Numbers don’t matter, fit is what matters. Numbers in the fashion world are just a ploy for marketing and a scam. Oftentimes, I’ll buy a 2x and turn it into a tunic or dress.  Sometimes a 12 fits better in some things, and other times I can squeeze my appendages into an extra small. TRY THINGS ON!

Also, just because something is full price or you saw it on some celebrity, it doesn’t make it special. And it doesn’t mean it has to work for you. It makes it expensive and it makes it “been there, done that.” Plus, those celebrities have stylists calculating their customer’s wardrobes’ every move. Clearance can be a gold mine if you have patience and know your top points about your likes/dislikes, what you are looking for or could use in your closet, and what works for your body going in. Shopping does not have to be overwhelming.

 Dig a little and have fun with your wardrobe.

If you don’t like something, but think you should because it’s “in” right now, or you saw someone else wearing it, don’t buy it. You’ll never wear it and you’ll never be comfortable in it. It’s a waste of money. Shop for YOU, not the image of someone else, or what you want to look like, or some model that had it on. That’s when muffin tops come into play and general clothing chaos. Being honest about your body, your likes and dislikes will take you much farther.  

The one thing that I absolutely hate hearing from girls is that old cliché “I just can’t pull that off.” You can pull ANYTHING off that you believe you can. Pick up your chin and be confident. Most likely you look great. Confidence can go a lot farther in life than it can on a rack.

Don’t think I haven’t put a bra on my head and gotten compliments. Trust me. 😉


27 Jun

When did nature become a novelty for mankind? Didn’t we construct all these buildings and invent cars, electricity, and TV as well as develop the process of identification and exercise videos so we wouldn’t have to go back into nature? But for some reason people think it’s awesome to be “one” with nature… with a carload full of crap that you have to put together and set-up amongst the poisonous plants, rabid animals, and abundant insect kingdoms.

Nature has rejected me since as long as I can remember. More than rejected me. It kicks my ass and packs my bags for me.

As a white girl, with long eyelashes I can bat at a moments notice, the only violence and discrimination I have ever experienced has been in nature.

I almost lost a foot… and my mind… to 6 summers of consecutive life threatening Poison Ivey. (Although, it did get me out of church camp, which was OKAY!! with me. I’ve never been a fan of organized anything…too many rules, chants, and activities. I HATE activities. And I especially hate chants. Chants remind me of why people go on shooting rampages.)  I’ve been on numerous bouts of steroids from spider bites. I usually can bet there is a snake that with the slightest nibble will kill me instantly nearby, and the sunburns are endless.

Much to my dismay, I was raised in nature. Horses, land, gardens, chickens, the full enchilada. Go figure. So it’s been a 24/7/365 battle since I was born.

My father used to take me on painful canoe trips which would involve me talking in high pitch wails as I tried to use my negative muscle mass and defeated mental capacity to simultaneously maneuver us through the water whilst trying not to drown, be engulfed by what was under the water, and not die from whatever was gonna bite me above the water. While he watched. Needless to say I was not a happy “camper.”

Our family camp trips ended up with the four of us piling into the van ¼ mile away from home wishing we were dead.

So maybe I come by this honestly?

However, there is no “quit” in quitter… wait a second….

So I decided this summer I was going to defeat nature.

This was a stupid ambition.

20 minutes into attempt #1, the high pitched wailing had commenced.

I don’t understand this concept of float trips. People pay a lot of money to float down a piss infused river trying to avoid all the white trash drunken idiots that cannot control the fact that they should not be set free in this environment… they should be caged in a zoo… and they should not be allowed to produce cubs. It’s like an episode of Man Vs. Wild, but Bear Grills is nowhere in sight to make it “Bear-able.” 😉

 The only thing good about nature is fire. But you can build a fire… in air conditioning… with mosquito nets strung about wherever necessary.

Even after my 6 hour hell ride down the worst roller coaster ever invented, we were done. Thank God.

Let the fire portion commence.

However, nature was not done with me. I woke up with a lip the size of Asia and numerous other swollen appendages. The swelling was moving to my throat. I looked like I had been in a bar brawl with a gang of ginormous bikers that the only thing they hated in this world was blonde girls with long eyelashes that bat them whenever danger erupts.

I got the hell out of dodge and consumed enough Benadryl to kill a small dog.

After my 48 hour Benadryl coma, I only had the emotional scars to prove it. And thus decided to take a stab at it the next weekend…

Cause the first run was so much fun. Duh.

2nd time was way worse. I was attacked by the most horrific wild animal of all of them: Douchebags. Be VERY wary of this creature. They can yeild their revenous heads at a moments notice.

Douchebags should not be allowed around me. I have too much negative muscle mass I’m willing to throw around coupled with a harsh vocabulary.

After 6 more hours of hell, wondering why I did this to myself… again. I was dunked in the piss infused water by douchebag #1. I would have cold-cocked him with my paddle…if he would have let go of it. And instead decided to punch/slap (it’s a skill) him in the face and call him an abomination… annnndddd then attack his lazy eye condition.

PERHAPS I reacted unfavorably.  I’m waiting for the court order.

And I think I was really just taking it out on Mother Nature and her silly existence in my once well furnished, temperature controlled, sparkling porcelain toileted, and technology ridden world.

 That bitch burned me, bit me, and dirtied all of me. (Speaking of dirty…why do people even bother taking showers while camping? Like it’s gonna help washing off the outdoors when you’re STILL IN the outdoors. It’s like wearing a maroon polyester suit to …anything… ever… unless you are Napoleon Dynamite. It’s a waste of time.)  

Nature had a round two waiting for me. I woke up to rain and seriously poor engineering of our tent. I was ready to NEVER enter nature again. And have never packed faster in my life. Thankfully, I wasn’t SERIOUSLY bit (due to my Lynus-esque cloud of bug spray and my ingenious ability to wear 6 layers including a hood, gloves and knee socks… in 90 degree weather)… but I was emotionally scarred forever. Again.

 And thus brings us to my declaration of an indoors only policy from now on. (I would rather be herding chickens.)

 Who’s with me??

Seraphim Blues

26 Jun

Reading has been a lifelong pain in my ass since I’ve decided to be a student… until I die.

However, this summer has brought employment that forces me to take a full hour lunch, leading me to want to slit my wrists and to take up reading as a hobby again… what is that?!! Someone get a thermometer!

A couple of summers ago I interned in New Zealand for what turned out to be one of the coolest dudes ever… I don’t think the feelings were as mutual.

Turns out he’s a writer.

Turns out he is an awesome writer.

Turns out his book is my absolute favorite.

Turns out they’re turning it into a movie.

Aaaanndddd it’s not 1,000,052 pages long.


I may like this book because I’ve spent most of my life sure I’m going to die before 30 (which is getting eerily closer than I ever imagined it would)  and taken advantage of my fierce hypochondria by  travelling the world,  avoiding settling down into anything, and accruing overdeveloped opinions. You’re welcome.

Turns out the main character in the book is doing the exact same thing… but he’s actually really young and really dying. Bummer I know.

The movie is called “The Most Fun You Can Have Dying” and the book is called “Seraphim Blues” by Steven Gannaway.

I had been trying to track down a copy in the states for two years until I finally found it on Lulu.com.

Gannaway’s opinion’s on living life, discovering death, understanding an unconventional faith, and making the most of what you are given, is the BEST I have EVER seen. (Yes, you heard correct… I AM being positive about something. You can close your mouth.) He keeps your attention (which with my ADD that takes over in the first 5 sentences is VERY impressive), he provokes thought about the meaning of our existence, what your dreams are, and how we can all figure out a way to either obtain cancer or fake cancer in order to take the money and run… to life.

Trailer for “The Most Fun You Can Have Dying:” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jjvf-wxHl50

Male Bonding

22 Jun

Due to the lack of excitement at my job… in order to spice things up… I listen to the comedy Pandora station… 8 hours a day… you do the math…

Ok, it’s 40 hours a week… of dick jokes and lamenting about women.

It’s awesome.

However, the best part is, it makes me feel like someone is talking to me and I don’t have to speak back. People DO keep their distance, as I laugh at my desk like I belong in an insane asylum… which is arguable…but it’s a temp job. Whatever.

Listening to this much male-jabber, I have stumbled upon some very enlightening and interesting common themes amongst men (besides the obvious that goal number one = S-E-X) and an insight to how those things inside their heads work… not that HEAD! Their other head. Get your mind out of the gutter.

Their brains.

Here are the top ten things to be aware of according to “Today’s Comedy Icons Radio.” Brought to you by Pandora. And me.

Disclaimer: If you have one of those things called a boyfriend…probably don’t listen to anything I have to say. Ever.

Drum roll please.

1)      They don’t like to be set-up. Women have the children if you want to have play dates.  Dudes don’t want to be setup with your friends’ boyfriends, husbands, brothers, dogs, whatever. Let them pick their own horrible running mates… and leave them to the consequences.

 2)      When they say they aren’t thinking anything. They really aren’t… and if they secretly are… do we really wanna know?? Everyone say, “NOT I.”

 3)      Have a freaking opinion. Apparently the worst thing EVER is to let them choose by saying “I don’t care.” Even, if like me, you REALLY don’t care… pull something out of your ass and be firm about it. I suggest the conversation to go like this… just to be safe… Question: “What do you want to eat?” Answer: “SUSHI DAMMIT… 30 minutes ago! GET IT TOGETHER!”

 4)      Let them have their vice. Video games. Let’s face it. They ALL universally are obsessed with video games. Video games to them are like shoes to us. We can’t explain it, but we both turn into Gollum zombies muttering “My Precious” under our breaths when they are in a 50 mile radius.  I think let them be. If you bitch about it there’s a 99.2% chance they’ll just hate you for it. Plus, while their playing they won’t notice you Pinteresting the entire house in the image of  Barbie’s dream home complete with a bedazzled toilet seat, abundant framed silverware and burnt crème fudge pieces masterfully shaped to look like demented floral arrangements strung along the mantle.

  5)      Rape never crosses their mind. Unless they are a rapist. Men seem shocked that we as women have to watch ourselves wherever we go, and that darkness can be lurking around any corner. This blows their minds. I dunno what this has to do with anything, I just thought it was interesting.

 6)      They really appreciate compromise. If you give an inch they might give back a lot more just to be able to have a say in… anything.

 7)      Shut your trap. No one likes a nag. For example, if they dress terrible, just don’t be seen in public with them… I guess… I’m still working on a solution to this. I’m leaning towards just burn whatever it is you can’t stand and that will solve the problem with less words.

 8)      Money is the root of all evil. What century is this??? Apparently women are supposed to be equal. I don’t like this new turn of events. However much this pains me, maybe throw a bone once in a while and pick up the check. Apppparrreeennntttlllyyyy it’s appreciated. (Ugh, that hurt just typing it.)

 9)      They have a complete love/ hate relationship with fast food. Men LOVE fast food, but know they shouldn’t. It’s like Catholic guilt. They do it anyways. This may come with an older-ish man… depending on how much fast food he eats… probably at like 21-99 years old is when they start feeling the effects. But they’re still hooked on Fast food like crack… and there is shame to it. Especially to the KFC Famous Bowls….?!?!?!… riddle me that. So if they are having withdrawal sweats, are hallucinating, and/or are overly cranky… look to the MSG and grease first.

 10)   And finally, WHATEVER YOU DO, DON’T drag them to a craft fair. They melt like the wicked witch of the West. Never to be seen again.

*To be safe just buy them a Famous Bowl, give them a video game controller, and get out-of-the-way.

May the force be with you.

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