To My Family: Stop Inviting Me to Annoying Parties

Nothing grinds my gears more than receiving an obligatory “invitation” from an extended family member to a party SMACK DAB in the MIDDLE of a Saturday or Sunday. Like, hello? It’s my weekend, people. Leave me be.

No I do not care to go to a 2 year old birthday party. He/she won’t remember, anyways. Not to mention the fact that I NEVER SIGNED UP FOR THIS SHIT. I’m a 25 year-old young profesh. I am unmarried and I like to go out and get fucked up every weekend. I can’t even keep my plants alive, goddamn it. NOTHING about my lifestyle even MILDLY suggests that this is my “thing.”

So, fucking calm down and stop inviting me.

You’re lucky that I show up (severely hung-over) to your baby showers. Or wedding showers. Or eighth grade grad parties. After your first kid, DON’T expect a shower. After you’ve gotten married once, DON’T expect a lavish second wedding. It’s rude and you’re taking advantage of me. Also, if your kid is under, like 12 years of age and is not my niece/nephew/child, WHY ARE YOU INVITING ME?

Like, seriously?

All I have to say is that when my time comes, FUCK all of you. When I get married, I will choose the MOST ANNOYING and inconvenient date to celebrate as my GIANT GRANITE SLAB of KARMA I’m throwing back to ALL OF YOU. Memorial Day weekend? Labor Day? Columbus Day weekend? No, not annoying enough.

I’m going to get married ON THE FOURTH OF JULY. I will renew my vows six months later on CHRISTMAS MORNING. No, actually, BETTER YET- I’m going to get married at 9AM on January 1st- the day of the nation-wide hangover. I am inviting your kids. I will not serve you alcohol.

Because, goddamn it, I am sick of your annoying, inconvenient and presumptuous obligatory invitations to parties for the stupid annoying milestones your kids cross.

Oh, and once I have kids, expect an invitation to an “I’m Potty Trained” party, or a “First Day of First Grade” party. Maybe I’ll even have a “It’s My Half Birthday” party EVERY YEAR in addition to their regular party because I AM SO ANNOYED. Ugh.

What to Say Back to Common Douchey Backhanded Compliments

Don’t you hate it when someone shits on your life but masks it by pretending they’re actually saying something nice? Yeah, me too.

I’ve decided to compile a list of common backhanded compliments, followed by some of my favorite witty asshole responses I plan on using for the rest of my life or until I think of something even shittier to say.

Oh and by the way, these “compliments” were actually said to me before. Which sucks, because at the time I didn’t think quickly enough to insult them back, so I wish I could have a do-over.

 

“You’re so cute, why are you single?”
My answer: Cuz I’m psycho, obviously. Thanks.
How is this offensive? This one pisses me off because what makes you think I don’t LOVE being single? Like I’m the kind of person who likes to deal with feelings and compromise? Right.

 

“I love your dress. It looks so comfy!”
My answer: Oh yeah, OK, I get what you’re doing here. I half-assed my appearance today because I’ve been fighting back this Jack I’ve been meaning to puke out all morning. Zero fucks given. Thanks for pointing that out.
How is this offensive? “Comfy”= homely, you bitch.

 

“You have such a prominent nose, are you Jewish?”
My answer: Are you being racist on purpose or are you just ignorant?
How is this offensive? The blatant stereotyping, maybe? Oh, and when I said I wasn’t, she went on to ask me if I was ROMAN. Like, really?

 

“You’re so skinny but your ass will, like, always be huge.”
My answer: Just…. fuck you.
How is this offensive? HOW IS THIS NOT OFFENSIVE? Never talk to a woman about her ass.

 

“This shirt’s too big on me. I thought you’d want it.”
My answer: Thanks! Cuz, you know, I don’t like the sausage-arm look like you do. I’m sure it’ll be loose on me… just how I like it.
How is this offensive? I get it… you think you’re skinnier than me and want me to know it… get over yourself.

 

“Law school suits you. You needed something to motivate you.”
My answer: Yeah, I decided to spend $35K a year to force myself to stop getting so drunk and smoking so much pot. It hasn’t worked, but at least I can mask my hot mess-ness at family holidays and cocktail parties by saying I’m striving towards a law degree.
How is this offensive? I love it when people see my tagged photos on Facebook and assume I’m perma-bombed. YA’LL DON’T KNOW ME. Work hard, play hard.

J-Man = Jack Daniels

So, one day, I decided to go to a psychic. I think I was feeling crazy about dumb shit going on in my life, whatever, I’d do it again.

I remember the psychic sucked and clearly was pulling shit out of her ass, but she told me that I would meet a man who’s name begins with a “J” and he will be my soul mate and we will ride happily off into the sunset like a magical prince and princess team. She told me two other specific things: I haven’t met him before and we’d meet at a holiday party.

Whatever, lady.

I was fascinated by this, despite the fact that there are like a BAJILLION “J” names, right? Jason, Justin, John, Jacob, Jafar, Jesus, Jose… etc. Does she think I’m completely desperate? Whatever, this game is fun.

So I’m not sorry to admit that I kind of fell for it. The holidays were only a month or so away, so I wanted to test this thing out. I was intrigued. My friends and I pegged him “J-Man” and we started acting really creepy over the possibilities.

Possible J- Man #1: Jacob
Does his name begin with a J? Yes
Had I met him before? No
Were we at a holiday party? No
This guy looked somewhat promising. Some friends and I were vacationing in VT for a long weekend. This guy was a friend of a friend I never met before. He wore flannel. He had a scruff beard. I was about to see him as a possibility, until some desperate biddy got all up in his chain and started hitting on him. I think her name was Amanda and she did the flirt-girl laugh. Not J-man. Or, maybe he was her J-man for the night.

Possible J-Man #2: John
Does his name begin with a J? Yes
Had I met him before? No
Were we at a holiday party? No
Another friend of a friend. Bitched to him about another guy. What’s wrong with me?

Possible J-Man #3: Sean
Does his name begin with a J? No
Had I met him before? Yes
Were we at a holiday party? No
This guy was a former co-worker and his name did NOT start with a J. OBVIOUSLY a no-go. Got the friend vibe. Whatever, this story’s boring.

Possible J-Man #4: Mike
Does his name begin with a J? No
Had I met him before? Briefly one time
Were we at a holiday party? YES
Mike and I were at an ugly sweater party. I was rockin’ the Bill Cosby, Mike was rockin’ the Snowman sweater vest. I made a joke about how he was wearing a turtleneck. He told me he liked turtlenecks. I think turtlenecks are emasculating. I prefer men that wear shirts showing chest hair.

Actual J-Man: Jack Daniels
Does his name begin with a J? Yes
Had I met him before? Many times
Were we at a holiday party? Are birthdays considered holidays?
One night, right around the most stressful time in a law student’s life (finals), I went into total drunk betch phase at someone else’s birthday celebration because I suck and I’m an attention whore. I was texting all the boiz. I was buying tequila shots. I was reaching over the counter of the bar to steal those giant olives because I was drunkgry. I was yelling and bitching and being a total obnoxious mess.

It was because of J-Man, you know, Jack Daniels. Have you met him? He’s a creepy little fuck. You start your night with ONE Jackie and ginge and before you know it you’re telling the cab driver you’re going to puke and then you bring a bowl to bed so you can puke all over yourself ALL DAY until your ONLY ONE TRUE FRIEND brings you McDonalds and forces you to keep your food down.

After that brief fling with Jackie D, I called it quits with him for a long while. I ignored his seething glare in the liquor store.  I walked right by when I saw him, half-opened, by my liquor cabinet. We were on a break.

We’re on better terms now, but I still get that puke-mouth taste whenever I sip down some Jackie D.

Hot Mess Express: Your 20’s Suck and Your Shit’s NOT Together

When I imagined my twenties as an 18 yr old entering college, I pictured myself living with a hot “struggling artist” boyfriend in some cool city like NYC, writing politically-conscious stories for Cosmo or Elle magazine, but secretly (but never admittedly) pining for the job as the classless blow-job-tip article-writer.  I never imagined myself hating the real world as much as I do and hoping for some boring and rich guy working some Chandler-Bing-esque 9-5 to swoop me away into a life of financial security. Had I known what life after college REALLY looks like, I would’ve filled my ’97 Volvo S70 with canned goods and driven straight to LA to pursue my (and every other self-absorbed 18-year-old in 2006’s) dream of becoming Lindsay Lohan pre-Herbie Fully Loaded.

Eventually, I would’ve spent all my rent money on weed and extacy and called my parents crying and begging for a plane ticket home.

As I sit here and write this, I see this alternate life sounds 10x less shitty than the life that my college-educated friends and I have.

Having your shit together after college means you’ve consolidated your loans. It means you’ve ONLY $50K in debt and don’t live in the suburbs. You work a job that requires 3-5 years experience OR a college degree. You’re in school for something, even though you’re racking up more debt and you’re still unsure of whether or not you actually like it.

Having your shit together after college means your roommates aren’t your parents, or if they are, you’re at least enjoying home-cooked meals while you waste 20 hrs a week working at Costco while slowly picking away at those FUCKING loans.

I don’t mean to sound cynical, but it sucks. Your 20’s suck because they’re being spent building towards less-suckage.

Right now, I consider myself lucky. I’m in school, I have a job and I live on my own in some joke of a city outside of the actual city.  Some of my friends tell me I’m “together,” despite the fact that I’m 3 years away from $250K worth of debt and I have the emotional maturity of a 12 year old BOY. In addition to this, life after college for me sucked ALL THE WAY up until this point. I got laid-off from some job I absolutely hated, I got fired from another job as a waitress and I spent my fun-employment on Sporcle.com and filling out HOURS LONG applications to random administrative positions I never got call-backs for.

YOUR. TWENTIES. SUCK. And because your life sucks and is up in the air, you’re selfish, which makes you an annoying person to be friends with and even more annoying to date. I mean, how are you supposed to give a shit about others beyond superficial gChat convos when you feel your life getting sucked away with every Outlook email?

I’m not sure if this all changes, or we get used to it. Maybe into my 30’s I’ll be conditioned into this life as a mindless drone working towards that house downpayment which feels like a cruel joke to me now.

Guess I’ll get wasted this weekend and take my shoes off and cry about how much my life sucks after I get kicked out of a dive bar for pushing someone and telling them to fuck off. But my Instagram pictures will make it look like I party like Prince Harry and give as many fucks as Ke$ha.

TELL ME I’M WRONG, TWENTY-SOMETHINGS. TELL ME I’M WRONG.

The “Look”

As a young 20-something female from the burbs who recently moved to a more “urban” area, I’ve adopted a defense mechanism to save me from disgusting, embarrassing and/or uncomfortable situations. I call it the “look.” The “look” is a face I make for approximately 5-7 seconds: head slightly down, eyes peering at you from the right, brows raised, lips closed but not pursed. It says everything and nothing all at once. It says “Why the fuck are you standing in the doorway? They’re trying to close the doors to the damn subway so we can peace the fuck out.” it says “Why the fuck are you clipping your fingernails here? You’re disgusting.” and it even says, “Stop staring at me like I’m a fucking plate of lasagna. Try to be a bit more subtle, creep.”

I’ve perfected the “look.” I’m serious. I mean, I don’t mean to brag but people see it and they GET me. I know this because one woman put her nail clippers away pretty much ON CUE. I felt powerful.

Now, there are some situations when this “look” is not enough. I need a Plan B. I NEED A BACKUP PLAN, PEOPLE. Sometimes the “look” simply will not do.

For example, a few weekends ago I was in some trashy skank club/bar/wait-is-this-a-high-school-dance? in Manchester. We were all swaying our butts and doing that white girl thing. Two of my girfrans had some dudes come up behind them and they started junk-swaying together. I hate that shit and will have none of it, so naturally I began to panic because junk-swayers usually attack groups and I was the only victim left. Lo-and-behold, I got attacked. I moved away. My attacker didn’t relent. Then, I shot him the “look.” HE DIDN’T LISTEN. He continued his attack. Then, I turned around and shot the “look” for, like, twenty fucking seconds. He said to me, “You want to dance?” and I said “NO!”

HELLO? Did you NOT understand the “look”? DID IT NOT SPEAK TO YOU? I’m confident that the fact that he was foreign might have skewed the translation, but I’m still pretty shattered by this.

Do you have a “look”? Does it work? DO YOU HAVE A BACKUP PLAN TO YOUR “LOOK”?

Tell me!

Your NEW Epic Rap Star Name

So, the other night, it occurred to me that I told you the formula for a 2012 epic rap song, but I failed to even point you in some sort of direction as to what kind of rap star name you’d have. Like, HELLO?!? What was I thinking? The rap star name itself is almost as important as your song. It creates your entire image!

Believe me, I could NOT sleep for the rest of the night. I was tossing and turning thinking of pointers for you. Luckily, there are a couple directions you can go in with this:

1. Become an animal. Pitbull, Snoop Dogg (lion) and Tyga are all solid examples of this. This is becoming a tad cliche though, so watch out. Remember Lil Bow Wow? Kid’s a joke. Now he wants to be called “Bow Wow.” Pffft, OK. Like I’m gonna remember to do that. Whatever, dude.

2. Common places or brand names misspelled. Eminem, Timbaland, Flo Rida fall under this category. Remember Salt n Pepa? So do I because their rap star names rock. If you’re lazy and don’t want to put too much time into creating your rapper name, you can have it done in minutes if you go this route. Pepsi, McDonalds, West Virginia, iPod and Saint Louis all haven’t been used yet so go to town.

3. Use “lil,” “Dr.” or “young” to preface something. Personally, I’d go with “Dr.” here. Don’t worry, you don’t need your doctorate or anything… It’s not like people are checking. It’s the best option because it gives you more cred and no one will listen to what you say if they don’t trust you.

4. Create a name outside of the English language. Try using one to two letters and a dash like Ne-Yo or Jay-Z. Didn’t Prince become a symbol for a while? I mean, he’s not a rap star, but it certainly grabbed our attention, amirite? Or why not just create a new word like Akon, JaRule or Shwayze did?

5. If all else fails use your real name. You can spice it up. Jason DeRulo sings his name. Sammy Adams was named after a domestic beer so he doesn’t even have to do anything. Maybe do what Nicki Minaj does- some people call her Nicki and others call her Roman like Kanye West, who sometimes goes by ‘Nye.

What is Wrong With Gabby Douglas’ Hair?

This is what I hate about America. Here we have a young 16 YEAR OLD child who sucks less than 90 percent of the idiots on this earth and we choose to pick ONE little thing about her and bitch about it. I’m talking about Gabby Douglas here. You know, the two-time GOLD MEDAL winning Olympic gymnast? We should be bragging about total gymnastics domination over China and Russia. Instead, we’re talking about her hair like it offended someone.

There are a few reasons why this is stupid:

1. It doesn’t look bad. Gabby Douglas’ hair does not look bad. During competition, it was pulled back, out of her face and looked clean and brushed. She could be going to the grocery store, walking to class, eating a Subway sandwich or, I don’t know- WINNING GOLD MEDALS AND BEING AWESOME in this hairstyle. Shut up. (P.S. I know my hostility is unwarranted. Just let me be.)

She’s just wearing the classic slut-bun (which is no indication of whether or not one is a slut. Unless you’re in middle school, though). The slut-bun is used when a female wishes to pull her hair back quickly with minimal effort, so she pulls her hair back into a ponytail and but doesn’t loop the rest of her hair through the last time. It requires no style, attention, or maintenance. Other US gymnasts sported slut-buns:

2. She is not famous for trying to look good. This girl is not going to a movie premiere. She is in the highest level of athletic competition, which means she needs to keep her hair out of her face and focus on WINNING and not falling and dying or becoming permanently paralyzed. Not to mention the fact that her image is not and should not be founded on her looks. Granted, I don’t HATE looking at Ryan Lochte but the guy is not famous for being a hot movie star. This means he doesn’t need to have washboard abs for some movie role, he needs them to help USA dominate the medal stand. Just like Gabby- she’s an athlete not a Ford model. Shut up and sit down.

3. How can we criticize her hair without remembering the gymnasts from the 90’s? Comparatively speaking, girl could walk the red carpet compared to the bangs and scrunchies of the 90s. I don’t even want to get into the whole figure skater hairstyle. Jesus.

    

So, in conclusion, I believe everyone needs to leave Gabby Douglas alone and shut up about her hair. Unless, of course, someone can explain to me WHY this is such a hot conversation topic here because maybe I’m missing something.