That one.

Hi there lovely ladies,

So, today I was thinking about this one guy. You know what i’m talking about. The one guy that you waste time on when you know you shouldn’t. The guy you know isn’t worth a minute of your day. The guy that in truth is a giant, steaming wad of crap. The guy that you’re… well, infatuated with. Yes, it’s a strong word. But it happens. Often. Or every day. 

In truth, you’re probably thinking about him right now. I know I am. He’s got a good face, what can I say?

Anyway, what I want to tell you ladies is that we need to move on. We’re stuck on one guy. One guy that is most likely not even a remote possibility for us. And this isn’t in a you’re so pathetic for obsessing over a guy way. And this isn’t in a way go find someone hotter way. And this isn’t in a you’re infatuation is not normal way. 

The only reason I say this is because I know how much it hurts to sit around and wait for the same guy to feel the same way about you. He never has. He doesn’t now. And he never will. Sad as it sounds, it’s true. And you know what? Even if you’re obsession is the sweetest boy in the entire world, it’s still not happening!!


We love to torture ourselves over these boys when there are so many better uses of our time. Like eating ice cream. And watching The Real Housewives. 

If he’s always on your mind. I mean, constantly. If you think he walks on water. If you think that he’s never done a damn thing wrong. If you find him perfect. Then this message applies to you. 

Just cut yourself off. I’m going to try and do the same. I can’t promise anything. Results may vary. But I can promise you one thing: there are no negative side effects.




The Whisper.

So, this recently came to my attention as I was sitting in a diner in the middle of the night with one of my very best friends. Over waffles and grilled cheese (no, I didn’t have the munchies, I just have a strangely large appetite) we came to the topic of the “creepy whisper” otherwise known as the “rape whisper.”

This whisper is extremely common in hip-hop and rap songs. For example, the Ying Yang Twins think that this whisper is the only god damn tone of voice there is. They lower their voice, put some rasp in that shit, and start talking about poppin’ bottles and bitches. 

It sounds like it’s coming from the back of their throat. It also sounds like they’re trying to abduct me through my speakers into a Tahoe on the side of the road. Sorry. No thanks. I prefer Escalades. Or Range Rovers. 

But what’s worse than the rape whisper in a rap song is when you hear in your ear. LITERALLY, in your ear. It’s in frat party situations, or any other party most likely, in which this whisper will make its annoying ass appearance. 

If you’re dancing with someone (not that i’m the one out backing that ass up, but I have a lot of friends that do) and he gets all up in your space. His mouth will wind up near your ear. And without a MOTHER fucking doubt, he will break out that raspy ass tone and say something unnecessarily nasty. 

And the best part is, the bitches are so drunk, they react as if he just asked her to be the queen of England. 

Okay, men that are fond of the whisper, just a few things here:

1) Stop blowing in my god damn ear. I don’t like the air flow. If i wanted wind in my face, I would go sailing. 

2) You sound like a creep. Sincerely. Like you’re going to put me in the trunk of your parent’s Lexus and take me to a dumpster.

3) At least plan something to say when you’re doing the “Rape whisper.” I mean really. If you’re just mumbling, that shit is anti-climactic. 

4) You’re going to get some kind of throat defect from continually doing this. It’s a lot of stress on your vocal chords.

5) You don’t look like a Ying Yang Twin, so stop acting like one.





Hello Beautiful ladies of the world,

And yes, I know that capitalizing beautiful was grammatically incorrect. But I don’t care. If you want to complain about it, go to your fourth grade english teacher. Fabulous. Moving on.

So. What I want to ramble about today is dieting and weight loss. I know. It’s dreadful. It’s horrible. It’s the bane of your existence. Sweetie, I feel you. To me, dieting is like a rare and horrifying form of punishment. I lose carbs for a day, you find me shaking in the corner like somebody stole my crack pipe. True story. I was a fat kid. 

Anyway, dieting and weight loss. So, I know half of you reading this (so that’s like 3 people) made a New Years resolution to lose weight. Real original. Don’t blame you. Shit happens. And because i’m a shameless hag, i’ll tell you i’ve done the same. 

I’m not saying it’s wrong. And lord knows we all could use to get in shape and be healthy. Life’s always better when you’re lighter and healthier. If only there was a way to get there without eating celery. Tastes like lighter fluid. Sorry.

Just remember, 90.5684 % of diets out there are absolute RUBBISH. They aren’t trustworthy or safe. The last thing you need is to go on a diet and end up eating baby food through an IV.

But the thing I really have to stress is this: when you decide to diet and exercise, to get healthy, do it for YOU. Do not do it for that hot guy down the hallway. The one you think notices that extra jiggle in your leg when you walk to the shower. Baby, trust me, he’s too busy scratching his nuts to realize anything else. Don’t do it for the guys you want to hook up with. Or for the one’s you already have. Don’t do it because your friends look a certain way. Don’t do it because your family wants you to look a certain way. Because all of these reasons involve other people, and for all constructive purposes here, fuck other people. 

You have to do it for yourself. YOU have to be happy with the way you are. And then other people will sense that. I’m one guilty bitch here. When I think about dieting, it always leads me down some imaginary path where guys flock to me cause i’m hot. 

Who cares. Men are made of beer and stupidity. From now on, make weight loss decisions and other decision based on your own good. 

Get it? Now live it. K?

I’m going to go have the last supper. Cause tomorrow is DDAY. You notice all my historical references? It’s cause i’m smart. Not really. 

Tomorrow I start being healthy. And yes I know New Years Eve was a few days ago. I was busy eating. 




Happy New Year

Hi There!

Sorry for the short hiatus, I was out of the states! Anyway, I’d like to briefly (yeah right) comment on New Years and New Years resolutions.

First of all, I’m not so big on New Years. In reality, it’s just another day, we just decided that we should set off millions of different colored fireworks. Taking acid has the same effect. I’m not into the holiday, but i’ve been a consistent participant in pledging myself to many different resolutions.

Now, i’m not going to sit here and lie to anyone. Not once. Even once. Not even close to once have I succeeded in one of my New Years resolutions. At first thought, this may seem extremely depressing. You may be thinking, wow, you pathetic hag. 

BUT! If you honestly, HONESTLY BEING THE KEY WORD, examine your past resolutions, you’ll realize you never did anything about them, and if you did, you half assed them. You wanna know why???

It’s no big secret. We don’t really give a shit. We just pick a ton of different generic things: lose weight, stop smoking, give up carbs, stop cursing… yadda fucking yadda yadda. 

Listen ladies, there’s no point in saying you’re going to stop doing every slightly negative thing you’ve ever done. First of all because it’s not possible and you know and i both know that. And second of all because the Dorris Day look went out along time ago. 

What I’ve decided. Or at least what I think is that we, us ladies, should really THINK about it. For a while. Your decision didn’t need to made my the time the ball dropped (sorry, that sounded sexual, I laughed). Think about what matters to YOU. Not what the ladies of The View are telling you is important. Make ONE resolution. Only one. And make it something that means a lot to you. 

This way, you don’t have the pressure of a bunch of impossible dreams on your shoulders. Just one thing. Big or small. Long term or short term. Doesn’t matter. It has to be something that actually matters, that way we might actually go through with it. See where i’m going with this?

And don’t worry, i’m not going to be a big ass hypocrite. I’m going to try too. And notice I say “Try” because nothing is certain. My resolution is personal, so i’m not going to spill it out to you guys. But i’ll tell you this. I’ve always wanted it. And this time, I really want to get it. I don’t know if I can. But i’m sure as hell going to try.

Alright bitches, i’m out. There’s a Seinfeld marathon on. 

Have a happy and healthy New Year. And drink some booze.




The Naughty and Nice List

It’s that time of year again and we all know the song: “He’s making a list and checking it twice; Gonna find out who’s naughty and nice; Santa Clause is coming to town.”

Who would have thunk that old St. Nick would the one guy to like and appreciate the nice girls.

Christmas is one of my favorite holidays because for once, the nice girls are finally rewarded.

Even though at an early age, kids are all taught (and bribed) that Santa is always watching us (which now creeps me out), it forces everyone, no matter the age, to make an attempt to be nice around Christmastime.

The holiday season is a great time for nice girls because people have a tendency to remember all of the things we have done over the course of the year. They remember how we were there when they cried, when they laughed, and how we were the only ones to bring them soup when they were sick.

Now I’m not saying that someone should be nice in order to get gifts. Not at all. But during the holidays, it’s definitely nice to feel the love and feel appreciated. It’s also nice to make someone feel that way. Trust me, if the Grinch and Ebenezer Scrooge can have a change of heart and drink a batch of the nice girl kool-aid, there’s hope for everyone!

So at the end of the day, even though being the nice girl can be hard, it’s better than being the one lonely shmuck who gets the coal from Santa (or Hanukkah Harry.)




And if your life truly flashes in front of you, when you die, just know the best time of my life has been loving you


Stuck on You.

First of all, I’d just like to say that living without my roommate and blogger in crime, Meredith Newman, is one of the hardest things i’ve ever done. I miss you girl, more than you know! 

Anyway, today I want to talk to you lovely ladies about that one guy. You know the guy i’m talking about. The one you’re stuck on. The one that is always on your mind. Whether you’re with him or not. Whether you’re friends or something more. Whether anything has happened with him or otherwise. You’re just stuck on him.  

Truth is, I’m stuck on one most of the time. Now is no different. But what i’ve realized about him and about most other guys i’ve been stuck on is that: THEY AREN’T SO GREAT. Truly. Honestly. I’m telling you girls. I know right now, in your mind, he is like fucking zeus and you think he invented the wheel and the stiletto. But sweetie, he didn’t. He hasn’t invented anything. Except the ability to make you act like a complete bumbling idiot. 

We fall for guys, mostly in our mind. Without knowing who they really are. And as we slowly learn who these guys are, we aren’t so impressed. But because we have a fake illusion of them in our minds, we think they are just god damn perfection in Nikes. 

If you take the time to look past your infatuation with whoever your guy currently is, you’ll realize just how much is wrong with him. You’ll probably realize that not only is he not grade A, he probably doesn’t even pass the test. He’s probably not good enough for you. 

I don’t blame you girls for being stuck. It happens. It sucks. It ends up being really hard to unstick yourself. But it’s worth it to look below the surface and discover things that will help you detach yourself. 

These guys just aren’t that great. We need to stop obsessing on those who do not deserve our obsession. (Obsessing in general is frowned upon, but we’ll discuss that another day.) 

Just think about it girls. 




The Power of Girl Talk

There is one thing that every girl needs to have. It’s not the ability to kick a guy in the crotch in an effective manner (but thank you Girl Scouts) or the ability to spot a fake Louis Vuitton bag a mile away (thank you Becca and Dana). It’s the ability to have girl talk with your closest friends.

I don’t know about you, but there’s nothing better than sitting with your girls eating Ben & Jerry’s, watching episodes of Boy Meets World, wearing sweatpants, and JUST talking. There’s no pressure to be made up, there’s no agenda, and most importantly there are NO BOYS around. 

While my guy friends do give me great advice about boys, school, and overall life, they don’t get it like girls do. Every time I have deep and intense talks with my friends with my girl friends, I always learn something new. Whether it be a new horror story about my friend never told me or a new perspective, it’s nice to know that I’m not the only girl in the world out there with the same feelings, insecurities, and fears.

Another great thing about girl talk: it’s the perfect time to vent. Is a guy torturing you with his beautiful face? Vent. Is there some bitch that is being a complete jerk to you? Vent. 

There’s no greater feeling than to just vocalize your emotions without being afraid of offending anyone or saying something you shouldn’t. If you have the friends I have been fortunate enough to have, there is an understanding that what happens during girl talk, stays in girl talk.  

Now, there is one condition about girl talk. You have to give, in order to receive. Translation: you can’t expect your friends to listen to your problems till the cows come home and then think it’s ok not to give them the same attention. It’s never ok. Like ever. Friendship is a two-way street.

And while you’re friend might be talking about the same thing for a good three hours, you should be there listening and handing her tissues if she’s crying. It’s the right thing to do. And if that was you, you would want your friends to be doing the exact same thing, maybe even more. Sorry about the rant kids, it’s one of my biggest pet-peeves.

Girl talk is one of the best medicines out there. You don’t need a million girl friends, you just need one person. Just one person who will gladly listen to your shit, but also will call you out on your shit (thank you Rachel).




Chick Flick.

We all know this fundamental truth. The “chick flick” can ruin a young woman. These movies will bring you to a place of crazy bitch rage, crazy bitch tears, or just plain crazy bitchness. 

Angus, Thongs and Full Frontal Snogging is probably one of the worst movies ever created. In the history of time. Naturally, it’s my favorite fucking movie. I own it on blue ray and DVD bitch. Holla At Me.

Yes. It’s a horrible movie. A terrible movie. Trash. Kaka. BUT. The movie has a pretty friggin’ awesome message. 


Let’s be honest ladies. We all have quirks. Quirks that we can’t get rid of. Quirks that make us snort in public, talk with a rasp, dance like a complete idiot, sing like a dying animal, bite our lip when we’re nervous, fiddle our fingers in awkward situations, sing in the shower, trip over our own feet on the sidewalk, sleep with 56 stuffed animals as a college freshman, cry when it’s compeltely unnecessary, and hide in our dorm room closet when we’re anxious. 

These quirks make us who we are. And there will be a guy that embraces these quirks. Finds them adorable. Cherishes them. Accepts that they are little pieces of who you are. Don’t try and downplay them. Don’t change yourself for the benefit of some invisible future boyfriend. 

In Angus, the main character gets a beautiful, sweet, incredibly unbelievable boyfriend even though her face looks as if it was busted by a pipe. He picks her because she is chock full o’ quirks and imperfection. 

A guy should like that your funny, smart, kind, generous, sweet. He shouldn’t give a shit that when you wake up in the morning you look as if a bulldozer rolled through your bed last night. 

All i’m saying is this: the surface may look nice on some girls, but there’s nothing beneath that surface. Remember: the cover of a book can be ripped off.




Story of our lives……

Story of our lives……

This week’s Nice Girl of The Week is Jenna Marbles. Well, actually, Jenna is more like the nice bitch of the week. As a YouTube sensation, Jenna is famous for going on rants that are so relatable to our everyday lives. Let’s be honest, we too all hate those bitches that get made-up for the airport and her impressions of drunk bitches are spot on. So for those who have not yet experienced the magic of Jenna Marbles, you need to watch her videos on YouTube. You’ll piss yourself. But actually……




The Guy Friend.

So, I know that i’ve spent many a blog post shitting on the friend zone. And I stand by my previous remarks regarding the friend zone 100%. The friend zone is a horrible, horrible, sad, depressing place where happiness and sexual pleasures go to die. 

But. That being said. It is still extremely important to have guy friends. Or at least one very special guy friend. A guy you can really talk to. A guy that really does give a shit about you. Trust me, it can happen. 

You’re probably thinking that all guys want to do is burp, eat, and watch ESPN. And yes, they do enjoy these activities. But these things just end up being things you love about your guy friend. 

When you find a good one, or some good ones, you realize that not all guys are the same. Not even close. And you never know who a guy really is until you get to know them. Some of these fucks will really surprise you. 

Some guy friends are surprisingly sensitive. They’ll listen. And guess what? They even give advice. They make you laugh when you’re completely depressed. They’ll teach you what a first down is (even though you pretended like you already knew). They’ll be a complete asshole to you when you’re being a bat shit crazy bitch. And an added perk, they’re protective. 

Just because some guys have screwed you over. And some of them sent you on a one way train to the friend zone. Doesn’t mean they’re all bad. Some of them are pretty amazing. They’ll become accustomed to your frequent mental breakdowns. They’ll stay on Skype with you until you’ve stopped crying. They’ll watch sports with you even though you make ignorant comments every other second. They’ll get a very, very special place in your heart. 

Give the guy friend a chance. Sometimes, it ends up being better. Relationships may come and go. But this guy will stick around. And beat up all the dickwads that come and go.




The Frat House Diaries: THAT Guy.

So, I know I just blogged, but i’m blogging again. I have something to say. Something specific. It’s a call out of sorts. 

So it’s Friday night. You and your girls get ready. You walk twenty blocks in foot-destroying heels down to frat row. You wait in the cold to get inside an overcrowded house filled with sweaty, most likely intoxicated, horny out of their minds,  young men. 

No matter how many times you do this. No matter how many nights you spend trying to get into that ONE house that has “free beer” (sweetie, you’re drunk enough. I could tell by your bleeding toe and the rip down the back of your stockings, oh and by the way half of your hair looks as if you fell in the bathtub with a microwave) or the house that has the ” hottest guys.”

Now. These so called “hottest guys” are all exactly the fucking same. We purposely look for them. These perfect guys

Let me sketch out these “perfect” jackasses for you: 

-Stupid ass hat. Probably backwards. Or possibly just sitting on the back of his hair, looking as if its about to fall off. But miraculously it doesn’t fall off. And just so you know, its because he spent an hour positioning the damn thing. Stunning. 

- Some kind of button down shirt. Probably striped. Maybe checked. Most likely made by POLO. The sleeves will be rolled up to his elbows. Cause his forearms are just so fucking mouth watering. Hit the gym, Rocky. 

- Boat shoes or some kind of overly pimped out sneakers. It’s just part of the uniform. 

-Some kind of alcohol in their hand. Obviously. And no it isn’t the alcohol that impaired their motor skills. They’re always like that. 

- They will awkwardly dance and/or rap to some ghetto ass song that they truly know nothing about. They don’t know the words to the song. But they will randomly mumble shit so it seems like they do. And the best part is… people think it’s cool. Inspiring. You’re white. You’re singing the chorus of a Wiz Khalifa song. Dream big douche. 

-And lastly, when they dance, they will put their dick as close as physically possible without stabbing you with it. And sometimes, they do stab you. Yay for penis inflicted injuries. We really can not call this dancing. It’s just guys dry humping you in public. It’s so nice to know that I dress up and go to a party to have sex with clothes on. Next time, i’ll just hit up my local strip club. Great deals for single ladies.

All i’m saying guys, is be more original. We like a REAL guy. Act like yourself. Don’t be like every other asshole. We’ll like you. Have quirks. 

P.S Stop spilling your beer everywhere. This skirt cost 100 dollars.




New Semester. New Me.

So as the first semester of college is basically under my belt, I have decided that going into second semester I’m going to be doing things a little differently.

I (like many) have never been able to keep my New Year’s resolutions. I always think that on January 1st I’m going to miraculously lose 25 pounds and find a boyfriend. I know, keep dreaming right? So, because of my many failures, I have decided to start now. Like right now. 

As soon as I leave Syracuse, New York to my lovely home of Chicago,IL, I will become the person I’ve always wanted to be. I’m going to eat healthier, be more organized, actually exercise, take more risks, and BLOG MORE!. Instead of doing these things to get a boyfriend, I’m going to be doing them for me.

Recently, I’ve realized that having a boyfriend isn’t what it’s cracked up to be. I’ve realized that the ideas in my head of having a boy don’t match up with reality and that a majority of the time you’ll end up disappointed. And I’m not saying this as a bitter, lonely person, I’m saying this as a recently enlightened person. 

So going into the second semester of my freshman year, I gonna have a new slogan: New Semester, New Me. I know it’s cheesy, but hey, it gets the job done. Over the next months, I’ll be blogging about my journey of the new “me.” It’s not gonna be an easy one (I’m sure there will be blogs about me wanting a red velvet cupcake), but I feel like it’s a necessary one. Because in order to see a change, I have to create change.

New Semester. New Me.





Hey girls,

Sorry we’ve been slacking off on the blog. No excuse. Unacceptable. Won’t happen again. Mer and I are actually getting ready to finish up finals, pack up our stuff, and head on home for a while. As I was cleaning my room like a schizophrenic freak of nature, studying for my last two finals (screwed for them, in case you were wondering), and saying goodbye to some of my friends that have already left for home, I started thinking. 

I spent a lot of my first semester in college thinking about boys. Big fucking shocker right? I’ve always spent a lot of time thinking about boys. But it was different now. It was a new ball game. And no, I wasn’t in the game. I was the umpire. Calling out my friends on bad calls (random, sketchy hook-ups) and fouls (sleeping with people that you just shouldn’t sleep with). I don’t mind being the umpire. Well. I kind of do. Sorry. On a tangent. 

As I was saying. I realized I spent too much time worrying about meeting guys. Wondering what guys thought of me. If I looked good enough to catch a guy. If I was as pretty as the girl next to me at the party, who by the way looks like a malnourished child from a third world country. So much time wasted on that one guy. The asshole that doesn’t see you the way you see him. Just like in high school. Hours wasted deciding if a skirt makes you look like “shamoo” or if a shirt makes you look like a “disgusting whore.” 

I have a question for all of you. And for myself. WHO IN THE HELL CARES????

Ladies, I don’t mean to go on a women’s empowerment rant. But I want all of us to realize that the time we put into ourself, the make up we so carefully paint on our faces, the stupid ass way we degrade ourselves just so our friends will boost our ego and pretend they don’t know we’re fishing for compliments- all of this stupid crap is just… stupid. But if you’re going to do it, cause let’s be honest here sweetheart, you’re going to, at least do it for YOU. 

When you decide to dress up and look hot as hell, do it because YOU want to. Not because you want some douchelord, belligerently drunk, frat house fucker to want you. Go out when YOU think you have enough make-up and YOU think your skirt is short enough. NOT when your friends have painted your face to the point where you look like a acid-tripping character from Moulin Rouge and your friends have convinced you to pull your skirt up to the point where you’re “almost a whore, but in a good way.”

I’m just so sick of us always doing things for men. For the benefit of men. If they don’t like what they see, they should get their eyes plucked out. We need to do things for ourselves. Be confident in ourselves.

And ladies, trust me, i’m not saying that I practice what I preach. Half… okay more than half of the shit I do is for the benefit of the male species. A species otherwise referred to as apes. I’m as low self-esteem as they come. Trust me. Pathetic. 

And one more thing, no more of this degrading ourselves. There’s just no point. NO. GOD DAMN. POINT. If we don’t like ourselves, why should anybody else? 

Now, I know i’m being preachy as shit. And no, this isn’t a gospel church. I’m not reading from the book of psalms. I’m just sick of living my life in fear of what men think. They’re just as fucked up as we are. They have just as many flaws. Probably more. 

In closing, i’d just like to say a word to all those random assholes we tried to impress on Saturday nights, and even those few guys that we really, REALLY thought we loved but just wouldn’t notice us…… weren’t worth it anyway darling. You’ll most likely have a future working in a SOLO cup factory. Enjoy your benefits. Fuck yourself.