Facebook to Shut Down, Millions of People’s Heads Explode in Fear!

18 May

 

Because sometimes, Facebook can make things “complicated”

Ahhh, I got you bitches good! It doesn’t even feel RIGHT how nervous I probably made a significant group of people feel! Happy mid-year October…fools…day?

But now that I have your attention…

Facebook has it’s way of starting out as a social media tool and then slowly but surely…taking over your life. When I signed up for Facebook it was basic, posting was still fun and hardly scrutinized, and de-friending wasn’t an actual term yet ( which means it was still acceptable).

The larger Facebook and other social media sites continue to get, the more digital drama seems to be happening. What’s the protocol for Facebook? Let’s explore!

Friending and De-Friending (<–both are not actually WORDS, p.s.)

Think back to when you first signed up for your account and who you were friending. At first, it was for people to reconnect to others, right? Those we went to school with when we were kids, people we go to school with now, college friends and classmates.

From there, it spiraled into a debate of…do we friend co-workers? Do we block co-workers? What about teachers? Then it became…block certain information, take down damning pictures and posts and proceed at your own will.

THEN, parents and family members got involved! At that point, I thought…how could this get any more ridiculous? We’re OUT of people to friend. Who do we friend now?

Isn’t it obvious? Why, if you’re a creepy, desperate individual…you sift through your friends, friends, uncles, cousins, college roommates friends and WHAM! It’s like a free dating service!

Why on earth are you friending me with the intention of getting to know me? This may sound completely absurd, but it happens.  Today I’ve been poked three times, by people I do not know, have not known and would prefer to keep it as such.

I just got finished talking to a guy in his late 30′s who friended me and I thought…no big deal. We may have some mutual friends in the community, may be good to network, etc. At no point in time did I think I’d wind up involved with him in any way. Truth be told, I wasn’t sure what his preference was…married…kids….weird…who knows.

Regardless, it appeared like Facebook had started to turn into it’s own sick version of  Plenty of Scum.com ( What I call PlentyOfFish.com). My friend receives (not kidding) HUNDREDS of pokes from random strangers, a TON of messages and friend requests with messages that say, “Hai. You come kiss me I makes wery wery good sex for you. Oh- you haive boifrann?” Not kidding…I saw it!

So here I am, trapped in this bizarre situation. I’m flirting with a stranger, no different than a dating site…I’m being manipulated or wooed or whatever you want to call it and I’m letting it happen. Let’s just say…things go on for a little while…and I do mean a little while, and then I cut it off because it’s clear that while he may be an “adult” by age definition…he’s a manipulative, non-following through jackass who was clearly looking for a little tang tang and found it online…as (I believe) he’s (probably) done before.

Idiot I am, thought “Wow, the way we found each other was so bizarre, maybe something good CAN come from Facebook!”

Clearly…things did not turn out that way, and so I decided ( with the help of everyone in my life, who also can’t stand him) to de-friend him and move forward. On to the next one! Isn’t that the normal thing to do? I figure, he won’t even notice ( since he has to now find another silly woman to replace his Wednesday nights!)…right?

Four days later, I respond to a Facebook post in a group we’re both a part of. A few hours later, I get a phone call where he proclaims he’s a “good guy,” and he “told me upfront what he was capable of.” He then says, “Weirdly enough, I thought we’d set a time to talk (lies) and get things cleared up (mm hmmm) once I saw you online. After I don’t see you online for a few days, I think…maybe  should check and see if her profile says anything. IMAGINE MY SURPRISE when I have to RE-friend you!”

To be honest? I think being in the mutual group and seeing my post made him go…”Oh yeah! That girl I scammed. What’s that hoe up to?”

After we “talked,” nothing was resolved in my opinion. I wound up accepting the friend request, because I’m an idiot, and because I wasn’t sure what the protocol is there? He thinks things are resolved, I feel a lot of anger for what Facebook helped him get (me). And for what I allowed of course.

When is it ok to de-friend? Not accept a friend request? Or block?

As far as using Facebook as a dating site? Stop it. It’s more pathetic than JDate,MatchE-Harmony AND Plenty of Fish rolled into one sleazy ball of GROSS.

Some terms do NOT have an alternative meaning!

Commenting on Statuses  (PAY ATTENTION, older community!)

There’s something to be said for having people of all ages on Facebook. It can be wonderful, but disturbing when someone who doesn’t understand a comment…wants to comment on top of that for all 1,000 of your friends to see.

Take this example:

Last week, an  older gentleman (who is awesome) in my apartment building had his 21 year old son coming to visit and wanted to hook me up with him. Legitimately, my status erupted into a Cirque D’ Facebook and suddenly I had 25 comments on whether to “do it” or not.

Among them, a friend of mine says, “OH do it. Being with a younger guy is amazing, and they can teach you how to do things…like new fun drinking games! Then, they’ll still go out, party and fist pump with you!”

My mother’s friend and my stand-up comedy teacher (also older) reply:

“Fist pumping??????” and “Is fist pumping code for an obscene act!? If so, please describe it and please be graphic!”

BEST PART?

My MOM texts me…

“Hi honey. Looking at the thread on Facebook! How funny! But…isn’t fist pumping a gay thing!?”

 

If you’re lost in translation, stay away from the status. Seriously. While it made for an extreme amount of entertainment, it was also mildly embarrassing.

 

“So keep on flexin’ and your arms t-rexin’ and do the creep!”

In Regards to Being a Creep

Just stop it. You stop it already! I don’t want to have a phone conversation with you and hear, “Ah yeah bro. I saw that on your status last week. Too funny man!” or “How’s that weird rash coming along?”

No one likes a creeper. No one….seriously.

 

Tighten up, America. It’s time to get our Facebook guidelines in check! Go out and mingle with people, stop trying to be digital sexual predators and live your life one time!

Can I Holla? They Had Dumps Like a Truck, Truck, Truck.

18 May

Dumps like a truck, truck, truck…yelling like what, what, what?

 

I’d love to sit here and give you a reference point of a website, person, professional relationship expert or otherwise that has mentioned the top worst place to pick up women. However, since I’m both too lazy to find the site, and feel as though I can provide a more apt list…here we go.

Among the worst places to pick up women, I’d say few are worse than the following:

1. A funeral:  Despite what Will Ferrel did in Wedding Crashers, picking up chicks at a funeral is a big fail.  Nothing hot being surrounded by death. “Grandmas stiff…and so am I”

2.  A rest stop:  Actually, any kind of traveling stop…ever. Mainly, because you’ll never see them again.  Unless you’re looking for a little temporary boom boom pow, stay away from “love on the run.”

3. Mowing the lawn/ working in the yard/ crossing the street: When you’re in front of your house or walking about town and  a car drives past you hollering ridiculous things…it’s annoying. “I see you plowing those flowers, girrrrrrrl. I’m jealous! Come over here and plow me!”

4.  Getting a massage: They’re wrist deep in your muscle tissue…but they’d like to be deeper and more “in touch.” Nothing is more bizarre than being stark naked, getting a rub down, and having someone try to holler at you by whispering in your ear as they massage your neck and tush. (Actually, sounds a lot like my Saturday nights).

The worst, and most recent encounter I’ve had is the fifth most offensive place to be hit on…the gas station.

It’s 8am and I’m rushing to get to work, only to hop in my car and discover that I need gas. I pull into the station, and start to pump my gas and lean against my car. I had a meeting that day, so I’m dressed in a long-sleeved button down and long pants, completely covered.

All of a sudden I hear… “AY…GUHL”

Are they talking to me, I think? No…I’m crazy.

GUHL! YO! GUHL…IN DA PINK!”

Shit. They’re talking to me…ok, don’t panic. Don’t panic, don’t panic, don’t panic…and don’t turn around.

“GUHL YOU FINE AS HELL, GUHL. Turn around, boo! Turn around.”

I’m not responding, and I’m shocked this is happening…so I keep my hand on the gas nozzle. I guess my ignoring them is frustrating, so they start getting more specific…

“Yo..lissen…guhl, in the pink and white shirt, with the green car…on the real…you fine. Look at that booty! YOU STACKED LIKE A SISTAH!”

Is this happening? I’m trying to coax the pump to dispel the gas faster…so, like an idiot…I’m SHAKING the hose.

“GUHL, OH GUUUUUHL…I bet you handle that black hose well! Would love to see just how well, GUHLLLLLLLL.

At this point, all I’m thinking is, “WHEN THE HELL WILL THAT LIGHT THEY ARE SITTING AT TURN GREEN?”

So I turn around for maybe 2.5 seconds, to get a look at whomever has been screaming at me for the past 5 minutes and it turns out, it’s 4 men in a dump truck!

“GUHL…YOU TAKE CARE…WITH YO FINE SELF.”

They drive off and I wonder…does that ever work? For anyone? Have you ever heard of a story where you ask, “Oh, where did you two meet?” And someone replies, “Well, funniest thing. Chad was stopped at the stop light while I was pumping gas and he just “hollered” at me and I thought, WOW…that takes a lot.”

Seriously, if you’re a “Can I holla?” success story, please let me know!

Another Lesson in Common Sense: Respect!

17 May

 

“Re-spek it…befoe you re-gret-tit!”

 

About a month ago, I was in line at Starbucks and I overhear this lady turn to her friend and say… “And I told him…you better respek it…befoe you re-gret-tit.” Her enunciation, the emphasis of each phrase…I was both seriously amused and on her side from that moment on.

And why not? Clearly, she was right.

Whomever it was, should respect the proverbial “it” or they are bound to regret it. My friend and I were discussing our most recent situations, and what seems to happen to us as women when we enter into a new experience. Last night on the phone, I said, “You know…it’s not that we’re dumb girls. I actually like to pride myself on being relatively smart about most situations. Yet, as I relay the series of events to you…it dawns on me, that I am the champion of the ‘Bad Decision Olympics.’ Gold medal champion, to be specific…and you my friend are the runner-up.”

Our stories:

(Hers first, and let’s call her Jen)

Jen was a college roommate of mine, completely by accident. Someone whom I was introduced to and we just gelled. After college, I moved home, she moved to ATL and now to D.C. Our exteriors appear similarly rough, we come off impervious to pain that relationships with others may cause even though if you break through our façade of an exterior, you’d see our interior is really marshmallow goo. The past few relationships for Jen have been men who are between their 40’s and 50’s. She’s 27. Clearly, not ok and we’ve had a conversation about that.

For someone her age, the maximum without being creepy is around 35-37. No more than 10 years apart, or it’s seriously too large of a generational gap and just plain gross…to be honest. This new guy, he’s our age…which was a good start, until, she starts divulging the rest of the story…

1. He works with her.

2. He’s her superior (one of them).

3. He has a girlfriend.

4. His girlfriend WORKS at the restaurant.

5. He’s a known, arrogant douche.

6. Please see numbers 1-5 and repeat until the obvious question of, “WHAT is she doing?” washes over you.

As soon as she told me that, I became Homer Simpson, slapping my forehead with a resounding… “D’OH!”

One step forward, six steps back.

So the story continues, and I won’t lie…at points, this sounds kind of sexy. He’s a wine sommelier; they work at an important upscale Washington, D.C. restaurant. Each shift they work together, they give each other flirty stares, do things to entice the other…and then when everyone goes home for the day, they act on those passions in the back room while people could be around. Sounds like a fiction based romance novel a little, no?

I told her…just as Eleanor Roosevelt once said (Wu-Tang Clan maybe?) you have to “protect ya neck!”

Something happens to women when they start a new relationship, and maybe to be fair to men…the sensitive ones may feel this too. It’s like we put these huge blinders on and get all gaga, seeing nothing but rainbows and sunshine pouring out of these people’s rear ends! We regret to see that this is doomed from the get-go.

We can reform, we can remold…we can rebuild, we have the technology!

People…let me give you a piece of advice (I never follow, clearly or I wouldn’t be telling you my story). No one changes. They may modify themselves, tweak something here and there…but overall, people do not change. Find someone who likes/love you as you are and likewise, because everyone deserves to feel as loved as possible as often as possible! SO…one night, they’re having relations in the office and someone finds them. Shocking. Jen also recently broke her finger, and is unable to work, which means she has been home. Where has Mr. Romantic been? M.I.A. Why? Because…he has gotten what he wanted, they’ve fleshed out their physical attraction while he’s been able to keep his girlfriend, his life, and his job…barely.

I love talking to Jen about our situations, because we’re both so incredibly hypocritical. We KNOW that these situations aren’t going anywhere, know they are doomed and yet we forge on. Why is that?

My situation is less severe, and could seriously take its own post to describe what’s been going on. Basically, I met someone in a strange way, that I was not anticipating liking.

1. He’s older, near the borderline of too old, but nothing crazy.

2. He lives far from here, well…40 miles. Not that far.

3. I think he may live some sort of strange double life.

4. People who are mutual friends say terrible things about him.

5. He never follows through Ever.

Although anyone who knows me would think, “you wouldn’t stand for that!” Something about the aggravation of proving that “you should be loving me, following through and being awesome,” keeps me standing by. The whole point of this (it’s there, somewhere), is that respect isn’t something you should have to beg for. I think what happens, is that people forget that the people THEY are dealing with are also…people. Treat me kind, speak to me properly, and think about how you would feel if I treated you like a pig for having a girlfriend and trying to hit it with me. Or, how I SHOULD have treated you like a creepy old man who found me in a strange way, who hasn’t taken me on one respectable date, and who was so worried about my age and me being immature, yet it appears the other way around.

RESPECT the people in your life. RESPECT who they are and where they come from, or respect them enough to at least tell them the truth. Show a little honesty, be upfront and let them decide if they can handle it and be a part of it. Life can be a very lonely journey alone, and as the very wise woman said…if you don’t respect “it,” you may live to regret it.

Listening Is So Last Season!

17 May

Obviously!

 

 

Let’s discuss a pandemic effecting our friendships nationwide. Oftentimes our friends have to move all over the Country, so it’s only logical that we keep in contact with them through one of the thousands of ways made possible to us through technology. Whether it’s old school and you use the phone,  or prefer email, Facebook, Twitter, video chat and the like.

If you’re like me, you may have noticed that  several of your friends love the sound of their own voice a tremendous amount. These friends, who would marry their voice if it was legal and that statement made any sense, tend to get you on the phone and do several things:

1. The bait and switch:

Here, a friend may ask you how you’ve been, what you’re doing or what’s new? As soon as you get three words out of your mouth, they find ONE word and take on the conversation.

For example:

Them: “How’s your dog? Still in the hospital?”

Me: “Oh, he’s doing well. He was given some strong medication-” ”

Them: “OH I just got some medication too for this thing that’s been going on. I’m not sure what it is but blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.”

Expect this to go on for the next 30 to 40 minutes. I suggest speaker phone and a TV show on mute.

2. The “I feel for you” fake out:

This is where a friend may ask you a more in-depth question they know will get you talking.

Them: “Anything new with your live in paraplegic boyfriend Jim and his pet monkey?”

It would appear, said friend would LOVE for you to engage in a lengthy conversation regarding your poor, handicapped boyfriend Jim. No, NO I say! At this juncture in the conversation, your friend is anxious to jump in; like when you buy something from a candy machine and jump the gun, trying to open the bottom slot and wind up jamming and mushing the candy between the slot and your hand. It’s just no good. PATIENCE. Why ask me a question you care nothing about?

People should just get on the phone and say… “I know I called you to pretend I care about what you have to say…but really, I just want to bore YOU to death with all my stories and self-absorbed crap.” Because a conversation is like anything else….give and take. Plus, generally, you should CARE about who you’re talking to and what they have to say. Why fake it? Seems silly.

The jump in would look like this:

Them: “Anything new with your live in paraplegic boyfriend Jim and his pet monkey?”

You: “Well, Trevor is trying to potty train it because-”

Them: “AWW! I know when my boyfriend, Micah, tried to potty train HIS monkey…it was like, so hard. But just bribe him with bananas. That’s what works!”

You: “Trevor, sadly, has a banana allergy…so-”

Them: “NO WAY. He’s a monkey! That’s impossible! I’m telling you, it works!”

This can go on for some time..it’s best to cut it off ASAP. It’s like their word is gospel and should be treated as such. This can also tie in greatly with the competition factor…

3. The competitor

Number two essentially covered the basics. This is similar with one minor tweak. Anything you say, they have a reply for. They’ve done what you’ve done and THEN some and they have no issue letting you know what’s up.

Nothing you do will be impressive…ever. Mainly because whatever hardship you’ve gone through, theirs has been worse. Whatever pain, heartbreak, happiness, success…they will trump you every time.

For these types of friends, I suggest placating them. “Oh, yes! Poor you! Awesome you! GOOD FOR YOU!”

It is the only way to calm the beast.

These people get a big YIKES from me. Listening and communication skills are a fundamental foundation for relationships and friendships alike!  What has happened to our society, so dependent on social media and hell-bent on NOT communicating and building foundations that are so VITAL to forging lasting relationships ( whether it be school, work, relationship, friendship, etc).

Communication skills… “GET YOU SOME!” 

Rosh Hashana Stories, Featuring “The Courtesy Stitch”

17 May

My family circus! Come one, come all…but you’ve been warned!

 

Rosh Hashana is the Jewish New Year, and a magical time when family and extended family come together to enjoy all things Holy, praising the Lord for a New Year and hoping he’ll be generous with us when we repent next week during Yom Kippur.

Most of the things I just wrote are true, unless you are sitting at my family’s table for the Holidays. Anyone who knows us, knows we’re about as liberal and unorthodox as it gets. Despite our quirks, my family is a ton of fun and a guaranteed “crazy story” whenever we get together. We celebrate three nights of Rosh Hashana, but this year I only participated in two.

 

Night 1: Lord of the Sanitation

I run out of work to head to the airport to pick up my cousin from NY, only to find her plane is running an hour and a half late. Great. We’ll be the last one at…sedar? No, that’s passover. Shabbat dinner? No, that’s Friday. Crap…”What the hell is this dinner ceremony called,” I scream to my Mom over the phone.

“Honey, I don’t know. How about just…dinner?”

Finally my cousin arrives, and we head to her house where there’s a 25 person dinner currently in progress.

My brother has saved us some seats at the end of the table, where there is some young guy I’ve never seen sitting near some family friends. A lot of people haven’t seen me in a while, and I’ve lost a bunch of weight in the past few months so it’s a lot of..”what have you been doing?” and “where’s the rest of you?” and me smiling and saying, “no-no-no…I’m still here!” Which is code for, “oh, stop it! but really…go on!”

The young guy is watching my cousin and I, and I’m trying to pretend like he’s not some weird stranger who has shown up for the Holiday dinner unexpected. Clearly, he belongs here and to someone here…so where are they? Someone claim this guy so we can get the weird introductions out-of-the-way.

But no one does.

He looks exactly like a guy I went out with a little under a year ago. Laughs the same, looks the same, talks the same. It’s creeping me out! BUT, I refuse to make eye contact and continue with my conversation with my brother and cousin.

Here’s what you should understand about my cousin. She’s a year younger than me, and incredibly tiny. She went to a borderline ivy league school, and has an incredibly snobbish attitude about anything BUT schools in that similar realm.

I love her, don’t get me wrong, BUT people see her and wonder… “why is she still single!” People read my posts, know my standards and go… “oh, well…we get it with her!”

Regardless, I’m walking around the table doing my obligatory “Hello! So good to see you!” routine to the 25 people sitting around my Aunt and Uncle’s dining room, and stop to say hello to one of our extended family members, Rita. She turns to me and says, “Did you get a load of David?”

Me: “What?”

Rita: “Yeah yeah yeah…David. John’s kid. He’s very intelligent! Harvard graduate, builds some kind of something for the African children. Go talk to him! You two would be a great couple!”

Me: “Thanks Rita, but no thank you. I’m quite content being–”

Rita: “GO. Just talk to him, what’s the harm?”

::sigh::

I return to the table, and it appears that David has made a move from the other side of the table closer to my cousin, brother and I. I’m sure he’s just trying to be friendly, but now that Rita put this ridiculous notion in my head, I’m sitting there trying to do my best to act natural yet flirty, calm yet fun…a sitting contradiction.

While we’re talking, and he’s laughing at my jokes…or just my commentary, I introduce myself. I ask him what he does and he looks surprised, like… “No one has told you? Why, I’m the LORD of Sanitation!”

It turns out, this guy is amazing, modest and brilliant. He’s figured out how to help an entire Country function by utilizing their poop and turning it in to energy.

Me: “Oh, wow. Well, at least you’re doing something purposeful! That’s amazing! You’re helping so many, just by utilizing something they have an abundance of (poop). Don’t ask us what we do…my cousin and I don’t save orphans from burning buildings or anything like that.”

He laughs.

At that point, he asks my cousin what she does and she answers. I walk away.

Later on, his 92-year-old grandmother whom I absolutely love comes over and sits in between us.  He’s watching me interact with her, laughing and smiling as we chat.

Me: ” SO tell me! What do you do these days?”

Pearl: “Oh me? Well, I go to the Senior center everyday which is nice.”

Me: “What do you do there? Break guy’s hearts? Play canasta?”

Pearl: “Oh don’t be silly. I just like to go, we all chat, and then I get driven home!”

Me: “Sounds like a great deal!”

Time goes by, and after explaining to him what I do for a living (as glamorous as it is, try not to be too impressed I tell him!) and him pretending to be very impressed…we hug, say nice to meet you and he leaves.

Once again Rita circles back… “So?? A match??”

::sigh::

Don’t go to dinner single, is the moral of this story.  Because trying to date someone in my own area isn’t hard enough, I should date a guy who lives primarily in  Kenya, and is full of shit? LITERALLY!?

 

Rosh Hashana, Part 2

This is where things get scary, folks. So again, my cousin is this brilliant individual right? The magical thing about my cousin is she’s incredibly book smart, but not so amazingly savvy everywhere else.

For instance, just a year ago she says to me, “Oh my GOD…did you know that when they neuter dogs they cut their balls off?”

Brilliance at work.

Both of my cousins actually have a strong affinity for being wildly inappropriate at the most inconvenient times. The second night was hosted by our family friend who lives upstairs from my mom. She put together a beautiful spread, and we went upstairs to see what the night would have in store.

Everyone knows I’m taking real stories and posting them, and it’s making everyone incredibly nervous. Each time laughter comes from some silly comment or action, they turn to me and say, “we better not see this up there tomorrow!”

As always, I say…no promises.

Things are rolling smoothly. Everyone is drinking, eating, and trying to be particularly careful about what they say…until…

My cousin: ” So guess what I learned the other day?”

All of us stare blankly, mouths full of noodle kugel and Challah.

My cousin: “I learned, that a lot of doctors after a woman gives birth, help the men out by doing what’s called a courtesy stitch.”

Me: “What? What is a courtesy stitch!?”

My cousin: “Well, after you give birth, you tear from your V to your A. OR, they cut you. SO…when they stitch you up, they throw an extra stitch in there for the men…”

Out of NOWHERE, my Uncle chimes in:

Uncle: “YEAH, you know. For the Vagina. To tighten the Vagina up after blowing it out.”

Then he makes a disturbing vacuum sealed tight sound, and we all throw up in our mouths just a little bit.

 

I often feel like my family is like a circus. There’s a ringleader, then an instigator with a lion-like demeanor who comes out roaring with madness, then we all have to jump through hoops of fire at the end of it to bring things back to whatever normalcy we started with.

 

Either way, I love these people. They’re insane, tactless, silly and oftentimes crude…but damned if they’re not also amazing, loving and oh, that’s right…my family Happy New Year to all!

An Open Letter To Rick Ross: PUT A SHIRT ON!

17 May

 

 

Dear William Leonard Roberts II (AKA: Rick Ross),

We the people of the World thought it was time for us to sit down together, as one, and intervene on a very serious situation that seems to be getting worse rather than better. Mr. Ross, we’re all here today because we’re either a fan of your music, your pubic hair-esque beard, the awful guttural sound you make when you “rap” (UH!) or we’re a fan of North American Grizzly Bears and clicked this page by accident ( I’m sure you can understand how we could make that mistake).

Mr. Rickity Rickity Ross, first question is first. Are you in fact a North American Grizzly Bear? If so, we’re cool with it, we just want to know what we’re working with. Like the North American Grizzly Bear, you’re a coastal animal, most likely pushing between 400-790lbs and like expensive watches and cheap bitches.

Wikipedia’s words, not mine.

If you are a North American Grizzly Bear, then…you being topless in your videos makes sense! Hell, it’s your nature. You can’t help it if the mood strikes you and in the moment you think that showing your jiggly, furry, tatted up tum tum is what the ladies like. We feel sorry for you, Mr. Ross, and want to see to it you get the help you need to overcome this stomach turning need to remove your top in your videos.

We, the people of the World, cannot grin and bear it anymore. We cannot sit by, while other awful, fat rappers keep their tummy’s where they belong…concealed. If it were a muffin top, Mr. Ross, we’d be like..alright, we’ll let the stylistic boo boo slide right on by. However, to be fair…your gut is an entire muffin store…maybe a shopping center.

It’s odd, because I was browsing YouTube when I came across your video with DJ Khaled ( who although terrible, at least keeps his ^%#@#$% shirt on!) featuring Drake, Little Wayne, etc called “I’m on one.” I was psyched, Mr. Ross. Totally psyched. Imagine my shock and upset to find you dancing around in an open red shirt like the Kool-Aid man…*&%^& topless!

You being topless in your videos affect us as a people negatively in the following ways:

1. Nausea and general gastric upset

2. You’d think it would detract from your silly ass beard, but you know what? It totally doesn’t!

3. You’d also think it would detract from the fact you’re a total phony, and your music is more offensive than what comes out of my dog’s rear…but it doesn’t.

4. It’s always alarming to be watching a video, and it will just focus on you for a second and there’s your big belly staring at me. Your gross, and we shouldn’t be encouraging that…get it together.

In addition, here is a short list of people we’d PREFER to see topless, over you:

1. Margaret Thatcher

2. Martha Stewart

3. Kevin Smith

4. Snooki

5.  Anyone. Seriously, pretty much anyone else.

Get the help you need today, Mr. Ross. We BEG you! FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS HOLY…PUT A SHIRT ON!

Disney World Proposal Screws Every Man, Everywhere, Forever!

17 May

 

I’m sorry to report, that this video has just screwed every man, everywhere…forever. How do you beat this video? Answer: You frieken’ don’t.

Women, do we not spend a gratuitous amount of time worried about what our proposal will be like? Will they be creative? Will my family be there? Will they be creative, or do the same old boring stuff?

“Every guy does the same thing. I’ll just get down on one knee, after a nice dinner…or on the beach….at a family dinner, right?”

WRONG.

For me, I’d love to know that you know who I am, what I like and feel like you created this beautiful moment truly for you and I. With the video here, it’s so clear this guy put a lot of time and dedication into proposing.

Here’s the breakdown of all his winning moments:

  1. He does a little pre-message to his future fiancé, explaining what he’s doing, how he’s feeling, etc. This way when she looks back, she knows how he was feeling before he went into it. Totally sweet…very endearing.  I wanted her to say yes already, and nothing had happened.
  2. He made sure everything was taped, photographed, professionally. Not necessary, but again it shows his ingenuity. Seriously. Wowsa.
  3. They’re at the happiest place on EARTH. Disneyworld! I’m probably more amped about it than most, but I love that place. To me, it’s a place where wonderful things happen and I’ve always been “that person” who is over the age of ten and still gets PUMPED to go to there!
  4. Not only does he organize this whole flash mob, he JOINS IN…he jumps in and starts dancing to “Marry Me,” and he’s a GREAT dancer. Although, even if he sucked…he’s dancing, for her, in the middle of Disneyworld. Who isn’t in love with this guy, right now?
  5. He gets down on one knee, she’s crying…she can’t even move, or remove her hand from her mouth because she’s so shocked. Perfection. After five and a half years, he managed to surprise her. That’s a serious accomplishment! What a huge win, and I honestly feel excited (jealous), proud (super jealous), and happy (OMFG REALLY?! SO JEALOUS) for this couple! Congrats!

So once again, men…with this type of stuff…oh, you’re so screwed. This guy not only tailors a proposal unique to his lady and makes it super heartfelt, but he does it at the happiest place on Earth!? Unless you can find a way to stop the internet from showing us these types of things, you better bring your “A-Game!”

M&M: A Therapeutic Story

17 May

 

 

I’ve decided to join a Jewish monastery.

OH, they don’t exist you say?  Well then I’m going to create one, dedicate myself to Moses…you know, the works! Tack that on to my list of “things to do.” If the experiences I’ve had up until this point have not given you reason enough to believe me, I’d like to present you with yet another experience: M&M (*All names changed)

M&M seemed awesome “on paper.” With eloquent communication laced with humor and ingenuity, not to mention a weird love for Will Ferrell that not everyone can always appreciate, M&M appeared to be my kind of guy.

When we talked for a bit, his emails were full of wit and flattery, even the title’s had  personality! After finding out that I’m getting my Masters, the title’s became: Ally, Master of Kickassery…which anyone who knows me knows that I ate that up…with a spoon… a big ladle, in fact.

He’s cute, with great teeth and curly hair, which I go gaga for. Perhaps I’m biased, who knows. He is precious in a baby-faced kind of way that you start to think wow, you can’t be 31! But then you get closer and realize oh yeah…it’s possible. Now anyone that knows me, also knows that I never choose boyfriends through what they look like. My type is often referred to as lagoon creatures and as my one friend put it recently…swamp monkeys.  It’s always about the connection. Usually the quickest way to speak to my heart is laugh at my jokes. Laugh hard and seem sincere. I love that. But this seemed like maybe…just maybe…I was in the presence of a mythical unicorn.

Side Note: My friends and I define the “man of our dreams” as a mythical unicorn. It’s something we’ve heard a lot about, but cannot seem to find, no matter how many people claim to have empirical evidence they exist.

M&M is talking about Nirvana and The Toadies…we’re having this fabulous night. Out of nowhere this older man with way to many Backstreet Boy highlights steps over to chat with us. He explains he’s here with his ex-wife, who’s “hot, right?” But she’s having problems with her 21 year old boyfriend…mainly because she’s 45.  On the other hand, this guys  girlfriend works at the fire station with him (clearly by now you’ve realized they’re fire…people? Sorry for leaving that out).

Raul is his name, and he and his 22-year-old girlfriend are in love. They make porno together and discuss all things fire, integrating fire into foreplay if they get the chance.  M&M is a government worker, so Raul becomes an automatic “bro”, engaging him in conversation, laughing, making jokes and crank calling government officials. He keeps looking over at me, going “ M&M…bro this girl….is a cool chick. I can just tell. A badass, cute, cool chick.” I’m like…thank you Raul, so nice of you to say, etc…

Pretty soon M&M leaves to go to the bathroom and I’m left alone with Raul who leans over to me and  says, ”You going home with him tonight?”

“No,” I reply, trying to avert my eyes and give him the hint I’m not interested in pursuing this conversation any longer. “Oh C’mon…go home with him…ride him a little. What would it hurt?”

All I’m thinking is…of course this would happen. Why not? If I didn’t have bad luck with dating, I wouldn’t date at all.

At that moment, Raul leans over and says…”You know, if you weren’t going home with M&M tonight, you’d be going home with me.” I whipped around, looked him dead in the eye and said…”You know Raul…I think I’m a bit too old for you.  I’m 25 after-all…Plus, I can’t film any porno’s… anymore…without a donkey, three chimps and a dominatrix present. Sorry.”

M&M sauntered back into the bar and at this point I’m ready to go.

He can pick up on the weird look I’m giving him, mainly because I have a terrible poker face…and I’m trying my best to subtly give him the let’s kindly get the fuck out of here now look.

Long story short..er (than what I’d normal give you, which is the painful play by play), we leave and head somewhere else. At this point he divulges he had 8 cats at one time, now he has 3. If that’s not weird enough at 31 to have 8 cats…I could keep going. While at the bar, he mentions to me…you know, your last name doesn’t sound very Jewish. I mention that it’s actually my middle name that is my “family” name with the Romanian/Jewish background. Upon hearing my middle name he pauses for a second…like something clicked with him….which I would never have thought twice about…..until this moment…..

After our date I decided I wasn’t into it. So I started ignoring phone calls and trying not to get too involved. A week or so later, I get a text…he’s had a hard day and needs to talk to someone. Being an idiot, I cave and say alright, tell me what happened and lets see if we can find a solution. He thanks me, tells me he feels much better and while he’s in a sharing mood….he has something to tell me.

Him: “Do you want to know a secret?”

Me: “Uhm….sure?”

Him: “No really, do you want to know?”

I’m getting irritated.

Me: “YES…just tell me!”

Him: “Jody Finkle knows a lot about me”

At this point some things are starting to come together…Jodie Finkle is my Aunt,  who is a Psychiatrist.

Me: “JODIE FINKLE? I don’t remember telling you my aunts name…”

Him: “You didn’t.”

Turns out, he was one of my Aunt’s clients…fabulous.

Anyone ready to start that monastery?

No?

Well, how about this:  M&M II, the reckoning

When my interest in M&M began to dissipate, I began to pull away, as most people do. I always wondered what could have been between he and I, had things of gone differently, and thought maybe I had been to hard on M&M. Too judgmental. So what he goes to therapy, who doesn’t? At least he was willing to confront the issues he’s facing, the walls he’s placed around himself and try to get a grip on reality, right?

My mom would say, “How weird would it be for him to come to a family gathering, knowing full well your Aunt knows everything there is to know about him?

Admittedly? Super weird. SO when I heard from M&M a few months ago, I was a little surprised to find myself a little curious to see why he was brought back into my life. At the very least, I’d have another winning story…and at the most? Well, sky was the limit.

Email number one:

“Dear Ally, Master of Kickassery,

Are you still kicking ass and being awesome? Have you forgtton me, moved to NY and become famous? If not…I’d love to talk to you, as I’m not sure what ever really happened and I think about it a lot. It’d be great to see that hair, and that smile. So tell me…How does one become a Master of Kickassery himself, or at the very least…take one to dinner.

Hope to talk soon,

M&M”

Alright, that’s a pretty damn good email, am I right!?

So I cave…we chat, try to start again and see if maybe we DID have something…DO have something. The issue was, he was going to China for two weeks. No real explanation why at first, but he was leaving in two days and HAD TO SEE ME IMMEDIATELY.

NO,” I tell him. “We’ve waited this long to see each other, don’t worry about it. We’ll chat, email, whatever until you get back and then we’ll do things again, from the beginning…the right way.”

He leaves for two weeks. Over the next two weeks, I get emails of half his head in front of monuments, weird foods, fun stuff…anything. By the time he returns, he’s been cultivating our meeting for nearly three weeks now.

When he returns, he wants to see me immediately but I had plans with a friend, so I invite him to join us at the movies. He’s polite, generous…all things are a go.

In the movie, he starts getting…touchy. It’s not like the previous post about “Dan” from the movie theater. This is more like a nervous touch. He’s rubbing my arms, his palm intertwined with mine…hot and wet.

After the movie, my friend and her boyfriend leave and we go to get a drink. I thought…things are good. He is good. We’ll have no trouble alone. Now may be a great time to mention that the first time around, I did see him more than one time. Things also happened that indicated he and I wouldn’t be a great match…in some areas…I hope you’re following this, because I feel too guilty to write it out. Regardless of what happened, I’m wiling to see if maybe it will head that way again down the road and maybe things will be fine. I’m enjoying myself and just want to focus on that.

He walks me to my car, kisses me like a Saint Bernard who rubs his big watery jowls on your leg as he brushes by and says, “I’m so glad we did this. I wasn’t sure what happened, if maybe I came on too strong…or geez, I don’t know. I thought you weren’t calling me because maybe I have a small penis…or something!”

It took him 3 weeks to cultivate something he ruined in 3 hours…the good news is, I know someone who can talk him through it!

Are You Illegible To Read This?

17 May

 

 

 

If you would have told me that my first job out of Ad School would be working for the company I started at, my first response would have been laughter. Yet, there I was, hanging out in the glorious advertising department of said company. Prior to beginning there, it’s mandatory that everyone attends orientation. Although I worked at their headquarters, everyone who’s hired does the same orientation at one of their stores in Miami.

I’m the only one from headquarters.

The rest of the people are training to be dispersed to varying stores throughout Broward/Dade County. A blond lady around the age of 40 takes a seat to my left, looking fidgety and as if she’s been around the block once or a thousand times. To my right, are a girl who will be working at the call center and gentleman who speaks NO English. Legitimately not one word, and the girl from the call center is helping him write and understand his forms, translating the important things he needs to know.

“Wish this thing would get started already,” the blond lady says.

“I know, right? Like we don’t have better things to do?” I reply, trying to seem cool and tough.

She nods, indicating she agrees and makes a “PSSH” sound before throwing her head back in sarcastic laughter.

This is going to be a long day.

The lady who will be leading orientation is short and Hispanic, with long blond hair and dark highlights, tight pants, too much makeup and long fingernails. As she takes the floor, I figure this can go one of two ways: really good (informative and quick) or really bad (waste of time and aggravating). My money is on the latter…should’ve bet the farm.

“Hey everyone, I’m Shannon, and I’ll be leading orientation today. Can everyone take their top folder and move it to the bottom of the stack? Also, can someone tell me anything about the company?”

What followed was a barrage of idiotic questioning, supplemented by thoughtless idiotic answers. Some of the riveting questions were as simple as, “What does this company sell? Can anyone tell me?” or “What are the company colors?” Yikes.

A brief moment of relief…lunch break! Sweet!

The blond lady follows me down to the cafeteria before uttering, “Mind if I sit with you?”

“Sure,” I said.

The conversation went on to discuss her father’s profession as a strip club owner, and how she got tired of working there. She used to have a wealthy boyfriend but he left her and while she loves photography and would work in the field, there’s just not enough money. Also, she hoped they wouldn’t make her cover up her BACK length Jaguar tattoo (not the car, the animal).

When we get back, the woman in charge is ready to discuss the company benefits.

“After three months of work with this company, you become illegible for your benefits.”

Wha-…did she just? No, she couldn’t have said illegible, I’m hearing things!

“If you are part-time, you are not illegible for benefits.”

Twice? Okay, this is not a mistake. Can it really be that someone this misguided is in a position to teach others?

I lean over to the blond lady and ask, “Did she just say…illegible instead of eligible?”

“Fuck yeah she did,” she said.

“That’s what I thought.”

In the process of the next two hours, this woman used that term several times, forcing me to wonder…am I not eligible for benefits, or am I sloppy and not understood well?

I’d love to sit here and tell you that was the one and only time something like that happened. There are two other favorite moments, however, that id’ love to share with you.

“P.J. Smoove” is the nickname for someone I used to work with. While insanely knowledgeable about the company, he had his own way of doing things…mainly, the wrong way.  To give you a sense of who he is, I’m going to tell you this story first.

About a year ago he went skydiving for the first time and decided he didn’t need anyone to jump with him. Moral of the story, he landed wrong, breaking both his legs. He’s incredibly stubborn and believes himself to be correct.

All day…every day.

“Allyson, can you please send me the un-complete list?”

Don’t correct himdon’t correct him….fight it!

“Um, sure P.J. I’d be happy to send the incomplete list over to you as soon as possible.”

I figured that was a decent save, right?

“Yes, the un-complete list would be great, thanks.”

The only time that has surpassed my experience with “P.J. Smoove,” has been with whom I affectionately referred to as “Oscar the Grouch” at the job I moved on to.

“Oscar the Grouch” was a special case. Everywhere you work has that one person who gets off on their power trip, feels like they’re never wrong, and they are essentially think they’re the end all be all. HE…was that dude.

I was still relatively new, but all this guy had done during my time there was attempt to make it as difficult as possible. Yet, unbeknownst to him, he was about to lose all credibility and make me fall in love with him simultaneously.

“Allyson, can you come here for a moment? When you’re writing for this product, you need to realize…this company…is SUPER in-no-vah-tive.”

I spell it phonetically so you see how he said it. Not innovative, like normal….in-no-vah-tive.

He then proceeded to repeat the word, several times and I thought well…I may not be illegible for benefits, but to think I’m not in-no-vah-tive enough? That just makes me feel un-complete!

Tales Of Set Up Failure: Lingerie Loungin’

16 May

Who Wants to Get a Little Sexy?

 

 

About a year or so ago, my (ex) boyfriend and I broke up and I had to move from my…well…his apartment.  From there, the changes kept on coming! I had to momentarily leave my dog behind, since he’s not allowed in my roommate’s house, and oh yeah! By roommate….I mean my mother.

It should be relatively easy to understand why it would have taken me a little bit of time to get over the breakup. At the very least, more than a week. My friends are wonderful but do not listen, and insisted that I trudge forward.

One night about a week after everything came to a halt,  (let’s call her) Gina decides that I should meet her friend and I immediately refuse. Not only am I far from ready, but I haven’t even SPOKEN to this “friend.” She tells me it’s too bad, he has seen my picture, has my number and is going to use it.

Great. I figure, fine…what’s the worst that can happen? Wrong question to ask, every time!

::ring ring::

A number I don’t know…what’s his name? Adam? Matt? Whatever, something generic.

“Hey you,” I hear on the other end of the line.

Can we take a moment and address this? You don’t know me, you’ve never met me nor spoken with me before…so…who exactly are you addressing ME as “you?” While it’s meant to be endearing I guess, it’s absurd and rubs me the wrong way. It’s not like we’ve met, or been friends for ten years, etc. Just keep it short guys…  “hey” or a nice throaty “hello” will do juuuuuust fine.

I’m already not amused, not wanting to have this conversation and am waiting to be wowed, or repulsed. Judging from the post I’m writing, I’m sure you can guess where this is headed…

Me: “erhm…hi?”

Mr. Whomever: “I’m (can’t remember), Gina’s friend. And you’re Allyson?”

You just dialed my number, didn’t you!?

Me: “Yep,“ I replied, short and to the point.

Mr. Whomever: “Gina said you’re into Adult Swim…that’s really hot. I bet you’re really kinky, huh?”

Two things wrong with this statement.

Epic Fail #1: Adult Swim is Cartoon Networks late night channel, featuring nothing sexual unless you’re into that anime cartoon weirdo bullshit.

Epic Fail #2: WHAT would possess you to ask someone you just started talking to 30 seconds ago if they’re kinky or not?

Me: “I love Adult Swim, but I don’t think you understand that it’s Car-“(the last piece of toons escapes under my breath as he cuts me off…)

Mr. Whomever: “What’s the most spontaneous thing you’ve ever done?”

::sigh::

Me: “Well…I don’t know, I guess drive from Tallahassee down here at 3am alone. I just woke up one morning and decided I wanted to come home, so I did.”

Mr. Whomever: “That’s it?” he replied.

Me: “Yep, that’s about it.”

He is waiting for me to pony up information, to confide in him, show him I’m interested…I’m not interested.

Mr. Whomever: “My girlfriend and I one time got a couples massage, and we were so turned on when we left we had to pull over and have sex in the bushes off the highway. I guess that’s my most spontaneous act…”

I didn’t even ask.

Mr. Whomever: “OOH! OOH! Actually, we stopped one time at a swingers club. We didn’t participate…but we did watch. Are you into that at all?”

Me: “Not at all, sorry. What are your top three movies? If you had to choose?”

I was searching for an inkling of normalcy.

Mr. Whomever: “My Cousin Vinny, 300 and Goodfellas. Do you like hairy men?”

Me: “Interesting choices…I’m not into gorillas, if that’s what you’re asking.”

At this point, I was ready to have some fun. I had tried to get off the phone twice and short of hanging up on the dude, I figured…great…free…material. It’s now been silent for about a minute before I start to say…

Me: “Ok, well I have to be going now…I’ve got to be at work at 6:30, so early wakeup call!” I figured, an exit line no one can refuse! Hint, hint, hint, HINT!

Mr. Whomever: “So you’re all dressed for bed?”

Me: “Yep.”

In actuality I was still in my work clothes from the day, but thought…let’s do this.

Mr. Whomever: “What are you wearing? I bet you like to sleep in those little nighties”

Me: “Oh for sure! The smaller the better.”

Mr. Whomever: “Anything underneath?”

Me: “Of course not,” I reply, snickering to myself in my brother’s bedroom, anxious to see how far I can push this kid.

A short-breathed sound sort of emerges from his side of the phone like a gasp.

Mr. Whomever: “That’s…so hot. Anything you want to ask me? Anything..? Anything at all, don’t worry.”

I know where he’s going.

 Me: “No, not really. Maybe another time..”

Mr. Whomever: “Are you SURE? Nothing? I’m totally open and willing to answer ANYTHING.” Dripping with suggestive tones, what a shock.

Me: “Well, as shy as you’re being, I’m assuming you want me to ask you what you’re working with. Right? That’s what you want?”

Mr. Whomever: “Go ahead, ask me.”

::sigh::

Me: “Alright…what are you working with…that you’re so proud of”

Mr. Whomever: “HARD?” he blurts out. “About 5…5.5”

Silence.

Mr. Whomever: “Is that bad? Good? Why didn’t you respond?”

Clearly I can’t say, because I’m rolling on the floor in laughter at how absurd you are and that you’re being a thousand percent serious right now?!

So I reply…

::giggle giggle giggle::

When I can collect myself, I politely tell him I really have to be going, and after all of this…he has the audacity to say…

Mr. Whomever: ”So I guess you don’t want to come cuddle?”

Y-I-K-E-S.

ARE YOU SERIOUS???

First, you don’t know me! What if I’m a crazy, soul stealing woman? Secondly, what if I’m diseased? Desperate? Clingy? You don’t know me dude…take some time. Third and finally, if you can listen to all that and take yourself seriously, all the while believing that I’m interested….big yikes buddy…big yikes. Sad state of affairs to see who’s out there, and if you didn’t miss someone a lot prior to that, you do afterwards, tell you that. Thank you to all my friends for wanting me to “get out there,” but uh…do me a solid? NO MORE fix ups!