Category Archives: lifestyle

Day #4: Beards (YES!)

I mean, not to sound crass or anything, but I’m getting way popular on the interwebs. My mother told me never to brag about my infinite amounts of awesome be humble, BUT, I’ve already had over 60 views before 11 PM… which is way more than the last 3 days! After all these views and all these great comments, I’m feeling good about this, I just hope I don’t run out of funny before you kids run out of interest. Self-doubt engage in 5…4…3…2…1…

Reason #7852 Why I Don’t Have A Boyfriend: My insatiable quest for a man with the perfect BEARD.

To me, you are perfect.

There are many things a girl learns to find attractive in her formative years, and I have absolutely no idea where any of mine came from. Ask any little Susie KindergartenPants who she wants to marry, and if she doesn’t say Miley Cyrus (one of the main things that creep me out) chances are she’ll describe a Brad Pitt/Matt Damon/Ben Affleck-esque form of Man Perfection. And more power to her, those dudes are hot and rich. Two qualities I find very attractive, but just haven’t clawed their way up to my #1. The reason? I have an unhealthy obsession with beards.

Maybe it’s because I watched a lot of Jeramiah Johnson as a child. Maybe its because I’m the spawn of a preacher-man and I spent a lot of time looking at pictures of Moses, Sampson, and other bearded Israelites. Maybe it’s because I was convinced that Karl Marx was the smartest man of all time. Somewhere, somehow, I found beards to be extremely sexy. Like, I’d rather you have a beard than be able to drive a car or kill roaches. It’s LOVE. Pure, unadulterated, bearded love.

I KNOW RIGHT?!?!?!?! Who in their right mind, in 2010, when MANSCAPING is so in, finds BEARDS to be attractive??? Me. I am the person odd enough to think that someone having LARGE AMOUNTS OF COARSE HAIR GROWING OFF OF HIS VISAGE makes someone more attractive. Its disgusting. And I love it. Like GoGurt. You know its wrong, but you just want to squeeze it/rub it on your face anyway (sorry for what THAT just sounded like).

It’s a problem. And you know what? I don’t want to solve it. But there is one major reason this is keeping me from finding a boyfriend: I won’t settle. I’ve tried. The first guy I dated in college had THE. PERFECT. BEARD. My father hated him, but the day he dumped me we broke up my blessed Dad (a beard-sporter himself) said “Well he did have one hell of a beard.” I then dated a skinny hippie with a skinny excuse for a beard… I was happier when he shaved. Dry spell…..wait for it…dry spell… Then a red-head with a pathetic excuse for a beard *CoughCough NECKBEARD CoughCough* and an even more pathetic excuse for dumping me… Dry spell…wait for it…dry spell…. wait for it… Oh, wait, still in it.

There’s something about them. They’re so manly. I hate traditional gender roles. I’m a sociology major, I’m above it… But I do expect my man to be (or at least look like) the Brawny Man. All I want is a badass personality and an even more badass beard. I would even almost consider dating someone thinner than me (giant mistake… talking to you, skinny hippie) again if he could fulfill that promise. Just FYI, I’m going to start accepting any applications from bearded bloggers/bloggers with the ability to grow a beard/ bloggers with bearded sons/ bloggers with sons who have the ability to grow a beard. For real. Shameless, I know, but this way is not working.

Let’s say I find Beardy McPerfect. It would go exactly like this. We’d go on a few dates. I’d look beautiful, giggle, and casually compliment on his beard by date #2 (you’ve got to keep them guessing, I’d be so afraid to run him off in all his bearded perfection) and he’d say, “Oh really? Well, Love, I’m 99.9% sure we’re soul mates and should get married immediately. But as a test, would you agree to marry me at the World Beard and Mustache Championships on May 11th, 2011 in Trondheim Norway?” And I’d say, “Yes, My Perfect-Bearded-Brawny-Man (who may or may not be thinner than me) I will marry you in Trondheim”… then he’d win the championship, we’d live together in a perfect house, listen to Ray LaMontagne (great beard) all the time, watch a lot of Jeramiah Johnson, read a lot of Allen Ginsberg (yeah, Jew Beards!) and then we’d have about 38490238 bearded sons to bless the women of the future-world with beards. That’s the life.

Again, Reason #7852 Why I Don’t Have A Boyfriend: My insatiable quest for a man with the perfect BEARD.

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Filed under ...Talking to you..., Beards, humor, life, lifestyle, MME (My Miserable Exes), MPM (My Perfect Man), Obsessions, Reasons I Don't Have a Boyfriend

Day #2: SPANX (A love letter, essentially.)

So before we begin, I consider Day #1 a success. I had around 40 people check me out, and considering I have no idea what I’m doing, I’m just going to round that up to 100 and feel accomplished. So, you first 100 viewers, thank you for making me feel like a RockStar. Or BlogStar. And now, for something completely different…

To Sara Blakely, Founder of Spanx, The Greatest Invention of All Time, With Love, Gratitude, and Devotion:

You may not know us, and most of us may not know you; but we are the ones who owe you a debt far greater than the (in my opinion, ridiculous) $35-40 you originially charged us for your wunder-vention… SPANX. In case you forgot, YOU invented the ultimate union of Physics and Fashion; underclothes that really do make people skinner. Not only did you invent WONDER-wear, you invented MAGIC.

See, My Darling Sara (may I call you darling? I mean, you’ve been under my clothes sporadically for 6 months now) you brought self-esteem back to so many women’s lives. I, for one, know that if something bulges a little in my little dress, my SPANX will keep me flat looking and fab feeling (minus a little short on breath and circulation). And that is how it is MAGIC… I do not have to lose weight. I do not have to get my clothing altered. I do not have to wear underwear either. I just have to put a little muscle into getting them on, then poof… Skinny. You’re like a fairy godmother, but with golden locks, super-smarts, and a skinny bod (which may or may not be an illusion, but we’ll never know, so I’ll just continue to consider you the best Lady who ain’t Gaga)… THANX, SPANX!

Celebrities who added a little juggle to their wiggle *CoughCough TYRA BANKS CoughCough* sang your praises and even showed SPANX off on the red carpet. Celebrities the size of toothpicks *CoughCough POSH SPICE CoughCough* wore your WONDER-pants because they weren’t feeling quite as waif-ish as usual. But your magic is not wasted on just crazy/vapid celebrities and lazy college students like yours truly. No, My Precious Sara (may I call you precious? I mean, I cried once when I thought my Spanx were ruined in the drier) you brought the magic back into dressing up for women every where.

Although some ladies haven’t gotten the memo on the smoothing wonders of SPANX … I’m talking to you, Ladies (?) of the Jersey Shore… I know countless women who know that they feel better about themselves in their Spanx. You have given us courage to wear our shimmy-shimmy-shake dresses a little smaller, and to crank up the sassitude when we see our exes for the first time. Your magic is not just scientific, it’s emotional. Although nearly half of my heart wants to scream at you and applaud you for being the most brilliant and rich sado-masochist of all time; the slightly larger (and lovesick) majority of my heart wants to give everyone everywhere their own pair of SPANX.

So, Darling Precious Sara, let me thank you again, from the bottom of my lazy/vain heart. Please, never ever stop making your WONDER-pants that will forever allow women like me to defer their dreams of real skinny; and will also provide me with the thrill of wondering when/where/how the SPANX will secretly and quickly come off, perchance Mr. RightNow decides to come over for a snuggle… as well as the thrill of knowing he’ll never know he’s been fooled.

Love, Your Forever Friend and Lover (but only if you want to be) with Undying, Perpetual Devotion.

...and we thought the underwear from "Superstar" was as big as it gets for Molly.

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