Category Archives: pop culture

Insomnia. And by “Insomnia,” I mean “Marry me, Ira Glass.”

I can’t sleep. I HATE not being able to sleep. Plus my skin feels all weird and I don’t know why. I might need to go see a professional.

Me.

I got a Twitter last night. I don’t know if I got the Twitter cause I can’t sleep, or I can’t sleep because I got the Twitter. This bed ain’t big enough for the three of us, so one of us is gonna have to make like a baby and head out. This is becoming a recurring problem more and more as of late, and I’m getting sick of it. I don’t have too many looks to spare, and not sleeping takes all the looks I have to spare and then some. Not to mention I become a complete bitch.

A Showtime Original...Sorta.

To try and rectify this situation, I’ve been watching repeat episodes of the short-lived but brilliant Showtime adaptation of This American Life. Granted, I’ve seen them all and listen to old editions online all the time (I can’t get enough of David Sedaris, and he’s such a freaking hermit he makes it worse) but I always see something new. You know what I saw for the first time this go-round? Prepare to be shocked.

I’M IN LOVE! I’m in love and I don’t care who knows it. Problem is? I’m in love with Ira Glass. Look at him. He’s adorable and perfect and supersmart and has a great little voice and cutie little glasses and hes just a nerdy-nerdy-dweeb-pants (who is more than welcome in my pants). Sure, hes… a little thin and beardless and a Yankee and married to some foreign chick and 29 years older than me and probably not remotely aware that I exist but if he was would most undoubtedly be completely interested… but I’m still in love. I even follow him on Twitter. Which means at least 50% of this relationship is completely committed. I like my odds.

And, if watching him exude the most intellectual handsomeness EVER for both seasons of TAL and hearing his smooth and perfectperfectperfect voice flood your ears over the interwebz radiowaves doesn’t do it for you… This will. Hello, Ira. So glad to have you in my dreams… if I ever fall asleep.

True love waits. Wait for me, Ira!

End note that is completely unrelated to Ira Glass: go ahead and Google Image either “yawn” or “yawning.” You’ll be shocked/horrified/squeal-overloaded once you see how many pictures of yawning babies and cats there are. You’re welcome.

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Filed under MPM (My Perfect Man), Obsessions, Please just love me., pop culture, Uncategorized

22 Reasons to Hate a Hipster

The new “Hipster” Craze makes me angry to a degree that’s intensity is only rivaled by the way I feel when 17 year old girls INSIST Twilight is valuable literature and I just don’t get what Edward and Bella have, and whenever I hear Nickelback on the radio. (These are the two reasons I avoid high schoolers and the radio at all times) These people really think they’re hip. But guess what? They’re not. And so, along with the 34092834 other kajillion people out there who hate Hipsters, I plan to blog about the things they do/say/like/are/wear that makes me want to vom. Yes I am aware that there are not that many people on the planet, but I am also privy to information that all the other intelligent life in the solar system as well as cats hate them too. Even the cats owned by hipsters.

1) The haircuts. Ain’t nothing FASHIONABLE about a FASHION mullet. Talking to you, Kristen Stewart…

2) Wayfarers, and the way they ruined them for the rest of us. I used to wear mine when it WASN’T cool to look like you were time travelling in from the 80s, now y’all wear them all the time. I don’t want to be associated with that, I want to be associated with Tom Cruise in Risky Business. Not Fashion Mullets and Parliaments.

If you see him, RUN.

3) THEY’RE ALL SKINNY. SOOOOO skinny. Even the boys. I don’t like skinny boys, I HATE skinny girls, and I don’t ever think its attractive to look like you’re deprived of essential nutrients. Skinny people always look a little unhappy, and I guess Hipsters are dying to be unhappy all the time. This is America, and if you have enough money for that American Apparel t-shirt that was entirely too expensive and made under the watch of a raging sexist, you most certainly have enough money for a cheesy double beef burrito. But I guess you wouldn’t know, cause Patriotism isn’t hip with the Hipsters.

4) Pardon me, Hipster, but you have stolen my brew of choice… Pabst Blue Ribbon. I drank PBR cause it was CHEAP and more palatable than Milwaukee’s Beast. And I ENJOYED it. Now yall drink it cause some other worthless Hipster told you to, and now PBR sales are skyrocketing. Maybe if Hipsters knew that PBR was the most American drink in America, they’d quit drinking it.

5) Dov Charney of American Apparel. This guy is a creep, and all who buy his clothes are creepers by proxy. Ipso facto, Hipsters are creeps. And by creeps I mean “sexually exploitative perverts with a massive superiority complex” as exhibited by this Business Week article.

6) THIS hoodie, also by American Apparel. I love a good beard, and I love a good Burt-Reynolds-in-Best-Little-Whorehouse-in-Texas style mustache… If it is real and attached to your face. Many of the Boy Hipsters can’t grow facial hair because God won’t let them. God loves men with beards a little extra, and God does in fact love Hipsters a little less. (My dad’s a preacher, he’s got a direct line to the Man.)

7) These Guys. (Thanks, LATF, for being a badass website as well as letting me shamelessly steal this link.)

8) Hipster’s attempts at cool facial hair. Mutton chops are only sexy on Confederate Generals and Melvin “Mutton Chops” McGee. Neither of which are Hipsters, cause they believe in tons and tons of violence as well as being respectful of women. (look… one of the wayfarer wearing ones snuck in here again…How in Sam Hell do I make that go away?)

9) They insist Macs are better than PCs. I know a lot of non-Hipsters do that too, but it just really gets my goat when it’s someone who is thin and wearing a flannel shirt in August in Central Georgia. That is neither logical nor ironic… Fail.

10) Tight pants only look good on David Bowie as the Goblin King in Labyrinth. And Prince, of course.

11) They won’t even admit they’re Hipsters. Just ask The Hipster Olympics.

Remove Yassar Arafat Scarf and Apathy, then become my friend.

12) Androgyny. I’m all about it when it’s David Bowie or the Lead Singer of the Eurythmics (still not entirely convinced Annie Lennox is a girl), but take the glitter out of the affair and I’m not so into it. I want to know who’s who and what’s what and who’s got what. I don’t like it when I see a whole pack of hipster friends and I can’t tell if they’re boys or girls and they’re all making out. But then again, Hipsters LOVE PDA too. Gross.

13) The substitution of the word “DECK” for “COOL.” People that are wayyyy cooler than us have been saying “cool” for a long time, and I don’t want to buck that trend. Plus have you ever fallen off a deck? NOT cool.

14) Mustache tattoos on fingers. Not cute. Grow one, or buy a stick on one, or just color one on your finger if that’s your way of being cheeky and clever. Remember, your grandkids are gonna ask you about that one day, and History is written by the WINNERS… Which probably won’t be wimpy hipsters with mustache tattoos on fingers. Such are the spoils of war.

15) PLAID, PLAID, EVERYWHERE! You’ll get it when you see a whole pack of them together. Frightening.

16) Pitchfork. It’s a breeding ground of musical self-importance and a celebration of all the “deck” things they are into, like polaroids at a concert (cool when you’re not a hipster) and who’s got the deckest album cover for their strange deck music.

17) The obsession with irony. No, as a matter of fact, it is not ironic that the tattoo on your back is the same as the one your grandpa got in the South Pacific with some Asian chick’s name on it and now you’re totally doing it with this Asian Hipster chick who’s name is unrelated and has never been to Asia… As a matter of fact, it’s not ironic because you planned the tattoo, and you probably wasted your money. Your Grandpa never heard the end of it from Grandma, and you never will either. Now THAT’S ironic.

18) Dirty Dirty Dirty. I’ve rarely seen one who looks like it’s bathed within the past 5-7 days, and that’s just the way they want it. That makes their awesome hangover known to all mankind, so they can all bitch and moan about their headaches together while Barista-ing or doing whatever else they can do whilst looking like that and not working hard. I don’t get it.

19) Trust fund babies should be prettier than Hipsters. If I didn’t have to work for my money, I’d take all that time and work on looking good so I can attract people who look good and have more money. The Hipsters use the opposite logic, blow their money on PBR, shitty bands, and pot, and will probably become Homeless like the people they resemble. Hows THAT for some MORE irony?

20) The non-chalance of the whole thing. Caring about others is cool, get over it. That’s why people like nice people like Mother Theresa, and hate people like Hipsters.

21) For how different they all try to be, I really think they all just look the same. Thank God for Hipster Hunters, they really let you know the who’s who and what’s what of the often indistinguishable but always nauseating Hipster physiology.

NO CHANCE she grew that mustache or needs those glasses. And she DEFINITELY doesn't need those bangs.

22) EVERY HIPSTER WEARS GLASSES…. WTF?!?! There is absolutely NO way that a whole entire group of friends somehow–call it fate, destiny, what have you– all ironicall found each other but also just so happened to be visually impaired. Sorry, your IQ’s aren’t high enough and there aren’t enough Asians in America. Something smells fishy about this one, and I’ve seen glasses without prescriptions for sale at Urban Outfitters…

So, there’s my rant on Hipsters. Yeah, I mean, I’m all for doing what you want to do and being who you really are in this world of superficiality and such… But please at least be funny or cute or of some kind of greater worth to the society. Maybe if Hipsters were making changes like the Hippies, or contributing to the art world like the Beatniks, I’d be into it. But really they’re just stealing and perverting “recycling” other generation’s trends and “making them their own” when really it just makes no logical sense, nor does it flatter my body type. Or anyone else’s for that matter. There are reasons the Members Only jacket went away, along with neon spandex and zip-up hoodies.

Because they SUCK. And that’s going to be the same reason Hipsters go away too. How ironic.

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Filed under ...Talking to you..., Beards, humor, life, musings, pop culture, Shameless Prince References, Uncategorized, Wasting my time...

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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Filed under ...Talking to you..., Best Ideas Ever, college, Girl-Crushes, humor, Lazy, lifestyle, MME (My Miserable Exes), Not Being Skinny, Obsessions, pop culture, Reasons I Don't Have a Boyfriend