Monthly Archives: December 2011

New Years Hangover Cure: You’re Welcome, Everybody

I’ve seen a couple articles here and there about the best cure for the New Years hangover and they’re all wrong. Considering the fact that I’m hungover for a decent number of Saturdays and Sundays throughout the year, I’ve taken it upon myself to share my own hangover secrets in time for the biggest drinking night of the year.

Take notes and have a Happy New Year!

THE GOLDEN RULE: If you know you’ve been a shitshow and you’re still going strong the night before, DRINK WATER. Just guzzle down a glass or two. A hangover is basically super-dehydration, so the #1 cure is to (surprise, surprise!) hydrate yourself. This might sound like a no-brainer to some people but I’ve found that a drunk person’s ego can get in the way of this. Whatever, do what you want, but don’t bitch to me the next day when you’re crying and puking.

When waking up, you must do the same thing. Drink water. Even if it makes you nauseous, even if it makes you puke water. Drink water.

If you’re having you’re own giant sleep-puke fest (we’ve all been there), try and eat some saltines or something. Even if it feels gross to do this, DO IT. Get something in your stomach and then go back to sleep. Studies have been done on this stuff- sleeping while drunk isn’t as effective as sober slumber, so sleeping more will make that headache go away.

Take a shower. Showering not only hydrates you, but also clears away the icky clammy puke-sweat off your bod. (In case you were wondering, yes, I’m single.)

Now, there’s going to be a point in the day when the clouds clear and it seems as though life is getting back to normal again. Don’t believe this lie, it’s a trick. You will get sick again if you do something stupid like, say, down some shots of vod with your roommates (Been there, done that). YOU ARE NOT INVINCIBLE! You must get some greasy food in your system because #1 you’re starving and #2 McDoubles taste fantastic when you’re hungover. FACT.

And there ya have it! Don’t buy into the other stupid theories like drinking coffee or keep drinking booze- doing that only dehydrates you more. The best hangover cure, of course,  is to just not drinking enough to get hungover in the first place but what’s the fun in doing that?

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Stop yelling, Rihanna. We can hear you.

This is my open letter to Rihanna:

Dear Rihanna (Or is it Rhianna? Whatever),

I really want to like you. I think it’s cool that you were born in Barbados and have obviously unnatural red frizzy curly hair that works for you and looks really good. I’m from the boring suburbs and red does not go well with my skin tone. This makes me jealous of you but in a friendly, amicable way. I also like your neat tattoos and perfect skin tone. Also, didn’t you just get sexiest woman alive or something? Good for you! I mean it.

Now Rihanna, there are a few things I don’t like about you. The biggest problem I have is is that you yell-sing. Yell-singing is when someone yells and tries to pass it off as singing. You do this in your song, “Only Girl In The World.” It starts out really slow and calm and then BAM you just start YELL-singing and I don’t know what to do with it. We can hear you. I don’t know why you have to start yelling. It seriously feels like you’re yelling AT me and I just can’t think of anything I could say to make it stop.

Fast-forward to the one-minute mark:

Rihanna, sometimes, listening to your music makes me feel anxious aside from your yell-singing. Sometimes the content of your songs upsets me. For example, “Rude Boy.” First of all, you relentlessly say “call me rude boy-boy” multiple times and then ask a number of personal, probing questions in a row. No one has time to answer that quickly. Secondly, your question is very rude and you know it. If I were a man and a woman asked me that, I would be very offended. It would hurt my feelings! I mean, what if he wasn’t up to your standards, RiRi? Would you be prepared to listen to a guy say, “Um, actually Rihanna it’s not that impressive. Don’t waste your time”? Probably a huge awkward letdown.

Now, I have “We Found Love” on constant repeat these days. I’m getting cautiously optimistic that you’ve outgrown this yell-sing habit and have also gotten over your need to ask probing questions indiscreetly. Remember, I want to like you.

Sincerely,

Daisy

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The 2011 Internet Sensations of Christmas

On the twelfth day of Christmas, 2011 Internet gave to me:

Twelve changes on Facebook

Eleven celeb iPhone hacks

Ten Groupon Getaways

Nine leaked Lohan pics

Eight National Anthem Flubs

Seven Keenan Lipsync vids

Six Plankers Planking

FIVVEE SEAAAATS TO CHOOOSEEE FROMM

Four #winning Interviews

Three Gaddafi death Tweets

Two Texts for Bennett

And Tim “Tebowing” under my tree.

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A Brief History of Tebowing

Tebow in the classic Tebow stance

Most scholars assume that the act of “Tebowing” originates with Tim Tebow, NFL quarterback and God-fearing Christian  known for going down on one knee to pray before, during and after games. Like planking, the act of “Tebowing” is now spiking in popularity on the internet, with photos of people “Tebowing” in various places and situations being uploaded constantly.

Now, despite the sudden surge of “Tebowing” popularity, this practice can actually be traced back as early as the fifth dynasty of Egypt, with the origin of Isis, the goddess of motherhood, magic and fertility.

Her early “Tebowing” technique varies greatly from Tim Tebow’s modern take because her bird-wing arms are extended, her head is looking straight forward and she is sitting on her heel.

This practice of “Tebowing” will not be seen again until the year Jesus is born. According to Christian tradition, wisemen and shepherds follow a bright star to “Tebow” in front of the baby Jesus and show reverence for God’s only Son. Unlike Isis’ early “Tebowing” technique, you begin to see some of the more modern “Tebowing” elements: arms are close to the chest and the head is facing downward.

Fast-forward to the ninth century and “Tebowing” surges in popularity again with the “Dvarapala,” or gate-guardian warriors seen in Hindu and Buddhist cultures.

What we now recognize as modern “Tebowing” is believed to have started from the “The Thinker,” a marble and bronze sculpture by Auguste Rodin, completed in 1902.

The end of World War II made “Tebowing” finally popular again with countless memorial statues using this pose:

            

Some liberal scholars believe that “Tebowing” is actually synonymous with the act of kneeling, which is defined by Wikipedia as “a human position in which the weight is distributed on the knees and feet on a surface close to horizontal.”

This new school theory, however, is highly criticized and unanimously rejected by the “Tebowing” Traditionalist school of thought.

Thanks Wikipedia, for letting me rip off some information from you. 

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The Ten Different Types of Frat Guys

My earlier Bro-night post made me start to think about the Bro’s preppier cousin, The Frat Guy. Like Bros, every girl needs to experience a Frat Guy night, despite their striking similarities. Lucky for you, I’m here to help define The Frat Guy while I teach the difference between these two closely related man-types. I’ll also outline the ten different types of Frat Guys too, in case you, like me, enjoy catergorizing people.

Now, most importantly I must make it clear that that every Frat Guy is a Bro, but not every Bro is a Frat Guy. This is because every Frat Guy needs to have Bro qualities in order to be considered a Frat Guy, but not all Bros are in frats. Does that make sense? It will. Oh, and if you’re a Frat Guy and believe that you do not fit into one of these different types, then you are either in denial or you simply do n0t exist. Here goes:

The Party Guy

  1. The One Who Joined Because Of Dad- He’s pretty serious about the legacy of this frat and enjoys doing all the stuff the other frat guys just tolerate, like volunteering, fundraising and networking. His mom comes to visit every two weeks or so to bring fresh laundered clothes. All of his extra-curriculars will look great on a law school application, and there’s a 90 percent chance that his name ends with a “II”, “III” or “IV.”
  2.  The Party Guy-  John Blutarsky from Animal House. If you don’t understand, you’ve never seen that movie. If you’ve never seen that movie, you should. It’s a classic.
  3. The Kind-of Gay One– This guy is way serious about brotherhood and everyone kind of suspects he’s gay but would ever actually say anything. He takes the bromance jokes too far by saying stuff like, “Bro, let’s spoon tonight if we don’t score some hot chicks,” or “Wouldn’t it be funny if we got drunk and had a threesome one time?”
  4. The Sensitive One Who Brings All the Girls in but Can Never Seal the Deal- I think this name pretty much explains itself, however, I must add that he loves to play guitar and wears beanie hats.
  5. The Druggie- He’s scoring drugs, mostly E or weed, and you can never tell if he’s high or not. (He usually is.)
  6. Everyone’s Best Friend- He’s been elected social chair and does all the networking for parties. He’s very similar to The Party Guy, the difference being his charm and an overall more wholesome demeanor.
  7. The Hot One With The Sorority Girlfriend- Goddamn it. They met at freshman orientation or in high school or something and are still going strong. They’ll never break up and if they do, cursed is the bitch who does it.
    Won’t their kids be so cute?
  8. The Manwhore- It’s every Frat Guy’s goal to bang lots of chicks, but this one is better at it than everyone because he’s a smooth-talker and has abs that Greek statues dream about. He plows through biddies faster than The Party Guy can win a boat race, despite having a reputation that extends across the free world.
  9. The Athlete– AKA dumb jock.
  10. The Foreigner– This guy is from Europe or something and uses his accent to score chicks. It usually works. Hell, I’d fall for it.

A quality that every single Frat Guy must have is the “love” or “feigned love” of drinking. This is very important, and it is also what makes every Frat Guy a Bro. Frat Guys and Bros like to drink more than you do. Even if they don’t, they pretend to and have at least two or three exaggerated stories as their go-to’s in case they think you don’t believe them.

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“Bro” Encounters of the “Broseph” Kind

Every girl should have at least one obnoxious “Bro” night and this past Friday I got mine over with. My BFF and I went out in Boston, which happens to be Bro-capital of not only the United States but the entire universe. I know that different regions of the universe have different definitions of what “Bros” are, but mine is the only right one because it matches the best-voted definition on Urban Dictionary:

I crossed out the word “rugby” because it’s the best sport ever. “Bros” would never have big enough balls to be ruggers. FACT.

Boston is “Bro” -nation not only because of the rich-kid college scene but because of its proximity to Fenway Park, Cape Cod, Nantucket and Newport, Rhode Island, which are the only “red” areas in the predominantly “blue” state of Massachusetts. (I know Rhode Island is its own state, but sometimes it doesn’t feel that way.)

Anyways, I’ll get back on track.  My friend and I were dancing when Brian Littrell’s doppleganger started to white-guy dance with us. I noticed some solid “Bro” indicators immediately: classic good looks, a pastel buttoned-down Oxford, a pair of aviator sunglasses (Hello? It’s December!) and the inability to fake sobriety.

Now, despite living in Brosephotamia, I don’t dig “Bros.” I find them updatable and I respect my Dad too much to ever bring one home to meet him. My friend, however, was in heaven. Brian Littrell seemed to dig her too, so I knew it was only a matter of time before I had to play wingman and  flirt with one of his “Bros” because I’m a good friend.

I met Jason Segal, Marty McFly and Matt Damon. I mean, I didn’t actually meet them, but those are the celebrities his friends most closely resembled and I want to give a visual here. I kind of started hitting it off with Marty McFly. Now, I want to make it clear that I nicknamed him Marty McFly not only because he has the same haircut, but because he was wearing one of those bubble jackets resembling Marty McFly’s orange vest. This is another “Bro” indicator. 

Hey Biff, get a load of this guy's life preserver. Dork thinks he's gonna drown.

We chatted and old-people danced for a while. He bought me a drink, which was surprisingly un-Bro-like. I mean, aren’t “Bros” spoiled rich boys who expected to be waited on? Maybe I was wrong my whole life. Seemed gentlemanly.

This image was shattered once Marty McFly started to get all roid-rage on some nice hippie I was making polite conversation with. I guess I’m his property now.

Anyways, the night progressed and we decided to go back to their apartment. I agreed to do so for journalistic purposed only. I’ll admit- I was kind of intrigued. It was like watching the National Geographic channel.

Since I was drunk and I’m mean when I’m drunk, I decided to tell these “Bros” they’re “Bros.” Funny thing about “Bros” is that it’s OK for them to call each other it, but once they get called out, they get defensive and sort of hate you. They kept asking me why they were “Bros” and despite being intoxicated and bitchy, I didn’t have the heart to tell them. Instead, I’ll tell all of you here and hope they never read it:

  1. Everything in bold mentioned above.
  2. They had cardboard sides of Busch Light thirties taped on the kitchen wall.
  3. They yelled and high fived more than anyone should.
  4. They bragged about banging chicks. (All guys do this, but “Bros” are extra douchey because they brag about taking a woman to classy dinner for the sole purpose of “getting it in” and then ignoring her calls after. This was an actual conversation they had with me in the room. WTF?!?)
  5. They got into arguments with each other rather quickly and then got over it by “hugging it out.”
  6. They all owned and wore those trucker hats that Ashton Kutcher made famous.
  7. They listen to house music but also like classic rock more than you do.
  8. There’s always at least one fight to assert their “Bro” alpha-male status.

Right, about that fight part. Well, since no “Bro” ever ends a night without some sort of conflict, Brian Littrell decided to start screaming obscenities at Matt Damon, puff out his chest and head-butt him. Blood was everywhere. Needless to say, my friend and I decided to dip out at that point, ending my first and (hopefully) last “Bro” encounter.

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“Grinding” = The Worst Invention Ever

One of the worst, pit-in-your-stomach type of moments for me is when I’m out dancing with the girlfranz and some dude comes up behind me and starts to “grind” with me. It’s very bothersome not only because I don’t know what this guy looks like or who he even is, but also because nothing makes me feel like more of a skank than a guy thinking it’s OK to swish his dick up against my ass.

I just want to turn around and say, “Hey! Can’t you introduce yourself to me first? Shouldn’t you ask me for permission? Why are you dancing like you’re blocking for basketball?”

I’ve never said any of those things. Usually, I feel bad and “grind” for a solid 2.5-3 minutes until I “have to go to the bathroom” or “have to find my friend who’s missing.”

I want to meet the person who invented grinding and then ask them why. Why did you come up with this idea? Why are you doing this to me? What is so bad about normal dancing? I mean, not only is grinding not attractive by any means and under all circumstances (aside from Nelly’s “Hot in Herre” music video), but it’s also very invasive. You’re literally pushing your junk into someone’s butt and then swaying back and forth. In a public setting!

Nothing is more awkward to me than trying to escape a grind-attack from behind. I’m sure some people will think I’m a tight-ass or a grandma here. Does anyone agree with me? What are some of your grind-avoiding techniques?

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