Tag Archives: love

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.

Screen shot 2013-06-05 at 11.16.23 PM

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.

hahahaha

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.

muahhaha

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.

Screen shot 2013-06-05 at 11.21.10 PM

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.

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Bad Fashion: The “Hotness” Test

Have you ever seen a new fashion trend and said “What the fuck?” to yourself? The fashion industry comes out with something new or recycles some style from the 90’s that makes you look like you’re walking around with a load in your pants. I’m taking about Kelly Kapowski acid-washed high-cropped jeans or those Jasmine harem pants or overalls or anything that makes you look like you weigh 500 lbs more than you actually do. I want to know what runs through someone’s head when they’re considering purchasing them, don’t you?

I mean, what the fuck? How can you think the illusion of a droopy crotch is sexy? When looking at a woman wearing Kelly Kapowski jeans, what man says to himself, “Hmmm she’s so sexy. I can’t wait to unzip that unreasonably long zipper covering her foopa to reveal those granny panties underneath. YUMMY”? No man. NO ONE!

Now, I have this theory. Many people assume that the women who buy into these hideous styles are trying to be trendy. This makes sense because they’re usually out at parties in the city with flatironed hair and tons of colorful makeup on. However, I DON’T BELIEVE THIS IS TRUE. My theory is that the joke is on all of us. They think they’re hot shit and know their pants are ugly as fuck but figure, “Hey, if I can go out and get laid wearing these heinous pants, I’m a fucking goddess.”

Am I right here? I mean, if you can get laid wearing harem pants, then you must have a pretty attractive face and a body to die for. If I were a man, it would take a lot for me to look past that.  You’d have to look like Megan Fox or something.

Maybe I’ll take this theory a bit further. Maybe it isn’t the women themselves fucking with us, but the higher-ups in fashion. They sit together and come up with these trends to challenge all the young ladies out there that think they’re hot shit. It’s some unwritten and understood agreement.These fashion moguls are like, “Hey, NYC babe, you think you’re sexy, huh? Try getting laid in these vintage floral mom jeans. Muahahahha!” And these twenty-somethings everywhere collectively sign whilst saying, “Challenge accepted.” Then they go out, buy the ugliest new trendy snow pants they can find, wear them out that Saturday night and don’t stop droppin’ it like it’s hot until some hipster buys them a PBR. It’s the ultimate way to test how hot you really are.

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The Sex Talk

Today I started thinking about The Sex Talk and how I never really had one. I mean, I vaguely remember middle school sex ed and coming home and telling my mom things (why, I don’t know), but I never had a sit-down talk with my parents over condoms or birth control or the pull-and-pray method or abstinence and that crap.

I’m split between feeling very gypped while also feeling very relieved. I mean, it’s a rite of passage. I should have experienced it, ya know? But, at the same time, it would absolutely be the most tense, awkward conversation I’d ever have, so I’m just very glad it never existed.

There are two times in my life when my parents approached me with the topic of sex but not in that awkward birds-and-the-bees type way. It was much more subtle. The first time was when I was a senior in high school. I was a few months away from moving to college and my parents were driving together in the front seat while I was in the back. They were going to drop me off at a friend’s house.

“You’re not having sex with these boys, are you?” My Mom says as she turns around from to look at me from the front seat. Now, this sucks in particular because I’m trapped inside of the car so I’m forced to acknowledge the question.

“Mom, is this The Sex Talk? Don’t you think we should have had this discussion like 5 years ago?” I quip back to deflect the question.

My Dad laughs.

“Just answer the question!” She doesn’t take the bait.

“Mom, we’re not even going to meet up with guys tonight,” (lie) “And no, I’m not.” (truth).

Silence for the rest of the car ride.

The next time my pseudo-sex talk comes is months later. Now, I’m home from a short break from college, pining over some dumb guy and I can’t stop thinking about him. I decide to go to my Dad for advice over this because, who knows young fickle boys better than someone who once was one? Plus, I could tell that my friends were getting annoyed with me so I had to begin using other resources.

I take a good twenty minutes to explain how cool he is and how much I dig him and another twenty minutes explaining what I thought was between us. “He totally told me he’d call me but then he texted me. What does that mean? I mean, he still wanted to talk so that’s good, right?” You get the idea.

My Dad  stays silent the entire time until I say, “So what should I do?”

He takes a breath, thinks for a second and then says, “Daisy, guys at your age just want to spread their seed. They’re not looking for a nice girl, they just want to sow their wild oats. That’s all.”

I think that’s the best answer anyone could have ever given me.

So those two times are what I had instead of The Sex Talk. What about yours? How did you/will you approach this topic with your kids?

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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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My Hypothetical Life as a Sex Worker

Don’t jump to conclusions, FBI. I’m not a prostitute.

However, I’d be lying if I said I never thought about it. Upscale hookers could make like $3k in a night. Do I make that in a month? I don’t want to answer that question.

I owe approximately a BAJILLION dollars to Sallie Mae and other federal/state loan companies I whored my debt onto and sold my soul to for an education. If I was an escort for ONE NIGHT a week and made, say, $1k-2k each time, I’d pay of all that debt off in no time.

Downpayment on a house? NO PROBLEMO, brah. I’d work 2-3 times a week and that money’s in the BANK, dude. Then I could spend the rest of my time working part-time as a writer. All my whore stories would eventually buy me an awesome book deal.

Now, my Catholic upbringing would never allow me to do this. If I got paid for sex ONE TIME, I’d fear the wrath of God coming down from the heavens to blacken my already-charred human soul. Saint Peter would shake his head and then shun me from ever entering the pearly gates of heaven. He’d white-out my name from his list of “Ones to be Saved” for eternity.

But, that’s just me. In another life and in another world I’d do it. (Haha “do it”! Get it? I’m so funny, aren’t I?)

I’d be the happy hooker, like Julia Roberts in Pretty Women, except I wouldn’t walk the streets. It’d be more of a referral-based type of hookering (Or is it ‘hooking’?). I’d create a solid base of clientele and work only for myself. I’ve got good business sense and I wouldn’t want to give anybody else a cut of MY cha-ching, ya know?

So, would you ever sell your bod to pay bills? Have you thought about it?

Image courtesy of this random website I found via google search

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The Tampon and Diaper Aisle at CVS

You know what really GRINDS my gears? The organization of the aisles at CVS. Specifically, the tampon aisle.

Ok, I have a sort of strange tradition/ punishment ritual where every month, I buy tampons at CVS alone and in the scrubbiest, nastiest sweatpants imaginable. My goal is to look like shit because I feel like shit and I’m buying tampons.

So, as I’m scanning the aisle looking for the biggest pack of the most generic tampon brand, it always takes me a good five seconds to realize how I’m in the fuckin diaper aisle. Like, the tampons I’m eyeing are suspiciously across the way from the adult diapers.

I feel very fortunate that I do not have issues that require wearing a diaper, and I honestly hope that people who do are not offended by this post. Yet, I know myself well enough to know that I am uncomfortable with this shit in public. I cannot deal with people believing I could possibly be buying tampons, let alone fucking full-sized adult diapers.

I know that the majority of people don’t care and aren’t looking, but I’m one of the few people that DO look at people’s purchases and judge them on it.

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I Hope My Husband’s Not the Creepy Uncle

With Thanksgiving around the corner, I’ve been thinking a lot about family, which got me thinking of stereotypes. When people are stereotyping families, they always include the Creepy Uncle on the list. This made me realize that I don’t have one. There is NO Creepy Uncle in my family.

I know that I shouldn’t be upset by this, but in having multiple Creepy-Uncle-free generations, it’s only natural to conclude that my generation may be due to reap one. My siblings and many cousins are already paired off and I see no sign of Creepy Uncle with them. Does this mean my husband will be him then? Is my future husband- wherever he may be- the newest Creepy Uncle? God, I hope not.

I feel as though women may be able to figure whether or not a potential suitor is Creepy Uncle material. Here are some solid indicators:

  1. Is he a big drinker? Creepy Uncles always get too drunk and rowdy so chances are, if your man drinks then he could start getting awkward at family functions. This sucks for me because I tend to be attracted to dudes who drink a lot. I’ll have to watch out on this one.
  2. Is he a manwhore? Creepy Uncles have probably been around the block a couple times (hence #3).
  3. Is he agressive? The Creepy Uncle will definitely hit on all of your relatives, so I’m sure that during courting, he’d be way forward and touchy-feely. Lucky for me, I have personal-space issues so I hate guys that are like that.
  4. Is he childish? Creepy Uncles have probably been coddled by their parents and expect people to do everything for them. They pick on the little kids and think that it’s funny when it’s actually super annoying. I would never tolerate this behavior.

So there’s my list for all of you single ladies. I wish a non-Creepy-Uncle-husband for all of you.

Image: SNL “Creep”

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