Author: youstaysassy

Top 5 reasons the closing Olympic ceremonies were better than ANY Superbowl halftime show I’ve ever seen.

5) THE FASHION: Being an avid Sex and the City fan, Carrie Bradshaw has made me extremely open-minded when it comes to fashion. Would I wear a tutu and a tank top out in public? No, probably not. But is it okay because Bradshaw did it? 100%. Also, I am a gay man at heart, so it would be totally and completely inappropriate for me to also not thank Lady Gaga at this time for opening my eyes to unconventional fashion choices. But back to the Olympics. Did you see those orange, triangular bicycle helmets those dudes wheeling around the Petshop Boys were wearing? Everything. What about those electric blue bowler hats with the lit light bulb coming out of the top? Spectacular. Fatboy Slim’s Hawaiian shirt? Excellent. Sporty Spice’s wide-legged jumpsuit with metallic sneakers? Outstanding. I really appreciate the forward-thinking-ness going on in London right now because I am sick of everyone’s Crocs and Lulu Lemon work out gear.

4) BORIS JOHNSON: So here’s something to think about: imagine every person you’ve ever seen run for mayor. They’re perfectly coiffed with impeccably gelled hair, pressed suits, and patriotic ties. They’re put together in a way that conveys, “not only can I take care of myself, I can also take care of YOU” to their constituency. And then there’s Boris Johnson: world’s silliest mayor. Tell me why he constantly looks like he just rolled out of bed. Why is he allowed to be SUCH a ragamuffin? I’m all for the “elegantly disheveled” look. For real, I think it’s really in-style and “a la mode” for us common folk, but I’m not sure I’m ready to allow my political leaders to look like they’ve stumbled in the door after a night of binge drinking with their frat brothers. Buy a comb.

3) THE BRAZILLIANS: I know it’s like, a huge honor and giant deal to host the Olympics and it’s a great venue to showcase the quirkiness of your culture and whatnot but like, Brazil went kinda cray. I realize it’s a different world and a different set of beliefs and such and don’t get a sister wrong when I say these things, I have mad respect for all types of people, places and things, but CALM. DOWN. BRAZIL. They started off with that tap dancing fool and then swiftly moved on to some crazy broad in a dress made of umbrellas, then transitioned to a man in a cape made of light bulbs and somewhere in there, a bedazzled pimp strutted around stage, soccer legend Pelé made a small appearance and a completely random drag queen (who later turned out to be Alessandra Ambrosio) danced around lip-synching to all the Brazilian music. Like, what the actual fuck, Brazil? I’ve never been there. Not sure I want to at this point. But if I learned one thing during their cultural showcase it’s that we’ve all got four years to adequately prepare how to classily, casually and comfortably handle an acid trip. For real.

2) RUSSELL BRAND: Okay. First. Oh my god. SWOON. Willy Wonka. One of the best of all time. Ever. I could watch that movie over and over again. And not just because I love chocolate and believe whole-heartedly that Veruca Salt is the one true diva none of us will every be able to fully embody. And then, just when you think, oh, cool, Willy Wonka. Russell Brand pops up on the top of a psychedelic bus in striped pants and a top hat singing the beginning of “I Am The Walrus” into a megaphone and you’re like, “IS THIS REALLY HAPPENING?” and then, after swooning like 18 more times, you’re like, “I can’t believe this is still happening”. Now, let me make clear that these feelings are probably only unique to those of us who love Russell Brand in an extremely unhealthy way like I do. So, back to the scenario. You’ve been swooning over Russell for such a long time that you’ve now learned to do other things while you’re still swooning so, other feelings are starting to creep in. Those girls pretending to play the violins look like drag queens. Did I accidentally take LSD earlier? You’re feeling elated and happy and wonderful that they’ve chose to include such whimsy in the closing ceremonies and not take everything so dang seriously. But, don’t worry, your swooning will win out. Because Russell Brand is literally everything on the planet.

1) SPICE GIRLS: Let’s start simple. They all look great. Mostly. Ginger’s looking a little rough. But regardless. They’re gorgeous. They’re perfect. “Wannabe” was a great start, of course, but when “Spice Up Your Life” filled my ears, all the hair on my body stood straight up and I started crying. I’M NOT EVEN EMBARRASED. If you’re not a 90s girl and didn’t grow up with these 5 in your Walkman and their videogame in your Playstation and a drawer full of their lollipops in your nightstand, you can stop reading  because you will never ever understand what these women mean to me. THE BIRTH OF GIRL POWER. From these 5. They shaped everything I believed in elementary school. I bought a pair of black and white lace up sneakers WITH A CHUNKY HEEL on them because of the Spice Girls. Can you even imagine how grotesque looking those were? But I wore them like, everyday because I wanted to be Baby Spice. My brother and I watched Spice World on Christmas Eve a few years ago and they were touring London and fighting off an alien invasion and they were still FABULOUS. And now they’re in London (!!!) riding around on the roof of a light up taxi reuniting in a way only the Spice Girls could. And none of them are wearing platform shoes. And I don’t even care. If there isn’t a worldwide reunion tour in the works I am going to FLIP OUT but somehow I will get over it because their performance was so perfect that I’m thinking this should be the end for them before Geri Halliwell truly goes off the deep end or Baby Spice’s name starts to become a little too ironic for any of us to deal with.

Honorable mentions: George Michael SERVING IT, Eric Idle, Jessie J, Prince Harry singing along to Monty Python, Take That and Missy Franklin. Because no Olympic-related talk would be complete without a mention of that perfect little baby.


Big Things!!!

Dan Savage, syndicated sex columnist and king of the sassy gays and one of my FAVORITE people on the PLANET shared a link to the article I wrote about him and his show SavageU on MTV. This exposure is EVERYTHING I’ve ever hoped for in my writing. I’m hoping this leads to bigger and better things for me. Stay tuned for more exciting news!!

Bawdy Talk

This is my latest article from The Daily Aztec

I think it all started when I was 9 and in Purple Ballet at Bobbie’s School of Dance. I realized all the other girls didn’t look as round as me in their leotards, but I don’t think any of them perfected the soft landing out of a sauté as well as I did. It continued through elementary school. Kids made fun of me for being fat and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t sting. But at 10 years old, all I really cared about were The Backstreet Boys and how fast I could perfect the Spanish versions of every song on the “Selena” soundtrack while our housekeeper, Esmelda, laughed at me for singing words I probably had no business singing.

I never really had body image issues. I was always a big girl and that was pretty much the beginning, middle and end of it. Most everyone in my family had the same body type and we all loved eating Jewish food on Passover, so it was never really a thing. I was never ridiculed by my family, only by outsiders who were quickly put in their place by my big brother. Surprisingly enough, he would always have my back despite the fact that he was my biggest annoyance at home. But if that isn’t the most clichéd brother / sister relationship you’ve ever heard, please tell me now.

People stopped caring in high school. Everyone was too focused with fitting in, and while I didn’t care too much about boys and who liked me as a friend, I managed to have an “in” with almost every group there was. Everyone liked me for my extremely loud and totally hilarious (and modest) personality. I escaped the typical high school pressures of eating disorders and the need to be like everyone else running around Thousand Oaks High School.

I’ve only had one boyfriend in my entire life. Our relationship lasted three days and all I got out of it was a kiss on the cheek. I think he’s gay now and I’m totally happy for him, but if that doesn’t sum up my entire life in one fabulously glittery package, I don’t know what would.

I’ve always loved the body I have, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t sort of hope that someone would see past my body type, into my charming personality and want to date me because I’m a good time and a funny person to have around. But that’s never happened.

Every parental figure in my life has told me how beautiful I am, how great my personality is and how lucky I’m going to make someone someday, but I never really believed them until I fell in love with a 6-foot-4-inch bearded gentleman covered in tattoos. He made me feel like none of the superficial stuff mattered … until he told me he wasn’t physically attracted to me, and that was the reason it would never work between us.

That one hurt. A blow to not only my elevated-but-not-in-your-face-or-cocky ego (my self-image is flawless, I think I’m the cat’s pajamas) but also, it shattered my heart into a billion little pieces. I’m confident I will never fully get over it. I went through all the motions of a breakup, even though we never had an actual relationship. So basically, I was just being an excessively emotional and completely delusional girl. Why wasn’t I good enough? Shouldn’t my personality count for something? Oye, I’m lamenting again. I swear all those feelings are sorted and filed and I’m good. For the most part.

After that saga, the idea of feelings and relationships seemed bleak. I had no interest in getting back on the wagon. I did online dating for a while and, let me tell you something, a girl can only withstand so many awkward coffee shop dates and awful-smelling, cologne-soaked young men. However, I can say with confidence that online dating showed me there are people in the world who like me for exactly who I am.

Everyone says it gets better when you get older and, even though I’m still young, I know they’re right. I grew up really fast in the sense that I moved out on my own when I was 17 and my body image has only gotten better throughout the years. I don’t know how men see me and I don’t think I ever will (because men are from Mars or something like that, right?) but all I can do is be the kind of person I’m looking for. What I mean by that is, instead of suffering for the “perfect” body, fitting into a leotard the way I should or having the type of body society tells me is OK, I should focus on loving myself, having confidence in my kick-ass personality and attracting the kind of man who will love and accept that.

And while Kim Kardashian’s ass and Gwyneth Paltrow’s shiny legs aren’t going anywhere anytime soon, accepting what I’m working with is key because, in the words of my spirit animal RuPaul: “If you can’t love yourself, how in the hell are you gonna love somebody else.” Can I get an amen?

A whirlwind Hollywood “love affair”

        Hollywood has given me unrealistic expectations of love. I feel comfort in saying there are a select group of people that are the reason I’m single. I don’t know these people personally, but I do know some writers out there sit at home crafting impossible love stories that make women across the world (namely, me) want to kill themselves and the producers that bring these books to life on the silver screen are out to ruin my life and make me want to cry every time I wake up alone. How can I ever function in a normal and healthy relationship when I don’t get a full-blown, hysterical love confession every time it rains? How can I possibly sleep through the night when the handsome outcast in my small town isn’t throwing rocks at my window, beckoning me to come down for an innocent and barf-inducing midnight stroll down the center town square? How can I ever enjoy a classic vacation in a sleepy east coast beach town if Channing Tatum isn’t there to jump in the water to save my purse after some guy throws it in the water, thus, naturally, ushering in a beautiful and tumultuous love affair?

            Nicholas Sparks is almost entirely to blame. While there are, undoubtedly, other participants cranking out these stories, I can confidently say it is at least 98% his fault. I remember watching A Walk to Remember and developing my first taste for unrealistic love. Landon Carter was a true outlaw; threatened by expulsion after a prank-gone-wrong, who is forced to participate in drama club to get him back on track (what kind of punishment is that? When I flipped off my French teacher in 10th grade, I got threatened with suspension and talked my way down to a Saturday school). After nerdy Jamie Sullivan helps him learn his lines, she sees him for what he truly is: not a high school hating scoundrel but a sensitive and caring soul, misunderstood by his peers and the community. Yawn. You ever try talking to the burnouts from your high school? Good luck carrying on a legitimate conversation with those dudes. Their attention span is equivalent to that of a gnat and if it’s not about weed or Taco Bell, they don’t care. The seeds of unbelievable and far-fetched circumstances that lead to whirlwind love affairs were implanted then and there, but since I was only 11 when that movie came out, pretty much any/everything in my head was far-fetched and unbelievable. But if you ask me, that movie is the basis and stem of why I am such a helpless, hopeless romantic. Damn you, Sparks. Damn you.

            When The Notebook came out a short 2 years later, we, as a country, collectively gave up on finding love. Not only were we introduced to the sex pot that is Ryan Gosling (because we all know everything he did prior to his role as Noah Calhoun is irrelevant and unexciting), we were given a glimpse into what Rachel McAdams could accomplish outside of being a Plastic (turns out she’s a pretty decent actress, but I think we can all agree none of us will ever think of her as anything but Regina George). Once again, Sparks took conventional and normal relationships and crushed them to smithereens. How was I supposed to look at anyone I could possibly, at 14 years old, start a relationship with without thinking of a grizzly Ryan Gosling standing in the rain telling me he wrote love letters to me I never got? How could I possibly ever think about growing old without getting Alzheimer’s and expecting the love of my life to retell the story of our tumultuous-but-ultimately-beautiful-and-incredulous love story every time I have an episode?

            It didn’t end there. Nights in Rodanthe let me know I didn’t have to be in my 20s to find perfect love (I sat in the theater and sobbed my eyes out until the lights came back on after the credits rolled), Dear John showed me not all military guys are total assholes (but living in San Diego has ultimately undone that one), and Moulin Rouge taught me that Ewan McGregor is a hot piece and I, too, can find a handsome bohemian playwright to fall in love with me, even if I am a stripper/prostitute dying from consumption.

            I’ve inundated myself with so many rom-coms and romantic dramas that I’ve figured out they all have a pattern. If you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all. And what good is that? Boy and girl meet, boy and girl try not to fall in love but despite their surroundings, they are pushed together. When they finally succumb to their overwhelming obsession with one another, something, somewhere gets in the way to push them apart. But don’t you worry your pretty little sobbing-in-the-middle-of-the-movie-theater head, because love always conquers all. And that right there is the plot of at least 12 movies that have been released this year.

            Earlier this week, I was surprised to find out the new Channing Tatum/Rachel McAdams (anyone else seeing a pattern emerge?) melodramatic romantic epic was not written by Nicholas Sparks. But it might as well be. It is in fact a true story written by the two people who actually lived the drama that will unfold in front of millions of peoples’ eyes this weekend. What could be more tragic than a memory-erasing car accident and a persistent husband hell-bent on making you re-fall back in love with him? Nothing. That’s what. And that is precisely the reason it will be number one at the box office this weekend. Every girl in the country will drag their boyfriends to the movies, then, after the credits roll, they’ll grill their men on why they can’t be as romantic and in touch with their emotions as Tatum’s character. Thus, here we are right back where we started from. Unrealistic expectations of love. All stemming from unbelievable and outlandish storytelling.

            How I’m ever supposed to bounce back from this is unclear to me, but I do know one thing. I will not be seeing The Vow for 3 reasons: 1) I will definitely, absolutely, 100% want to kill myself after seeing it (forever alone), 2) I can’t handle looking at Channing Tatum because he ruins all men for me. Ever. And 3) My presumptions about love have already been skewed so heavily from nights crying in front of my television and drowning my sorrows in a pint of Chubby Hubby that if I do anymore damage, I will literally explode from being such a cliché.

Grammys 2012

Happy 53rd Grammys, ya’ll! This is one of my favorite nights of the year. Usually awards shows these days are a total train-wreck but I hold out hope for this one. At least I know we’re guaranteed to  have SOMETHING to talk about tomorrow.

  • K all I have to say is fuck yeah Bruce Springsteen. He’s totally still got it. I’d totally make out with him. And I really appreciate the fact that the Grammy peeps still give it up for the music vets and don’t fill the entire 3 1/2 telecast (omfg, can you believe this thing is so long?) with Nicki Minaj’s ass.
  • I spy some light-up Mylo Xyloto bracelets in the pit. Fuuuuck I want one of those so bad.
  • This performance rules. So hard. Give it up to The Boss. Well done. Outstanding.
  • Katy Perry, I hate your blue hair with a fiery red passion.
  • Blake Shelton, Miranda Lambert, Lady Gaga. What an awkward seating arrangement.
  • Lemme throw out a quick guess on how long it’ll take to start talking about ——- welp. Nevermind. There he goes.
  • Well done LL, well done. Sweet, simple and concise. Exactly what it needed to be.
  • Grammys 2012 Drinking Game: Take a shot every time someone brings up Whitney. You should already have taken 2 shots.
  • Adele, I hate your hair. And I love your dress. But I hate your hair.
  • You better believe I just shouted out loud alone in my apartment when LL shouted out to Coldplay #fangirl
  • I think LL was an evangelical preacher in his past life.
  • I thoroughly enjoy Bruno Mars. He’s so precious. Even if he does the same thing every time he has a live performance.
  • Someone reading this has to know the tambourine player. Tell him I say what’s up.
  • Bruno Mars’ blowout > Pauly D’s blowout #unpopularopinion
  • 3 shots.
  • “Get off your rich asses and have some fun!” Love you, Bruno.
  • 4 shots.
  • So glad there’s some recognition that Whitney Houston wasn’t the only person to pass this year. Good on ya, Grams.
  • HAHAHAHAHAHAHA Lady Gaga looks like she got caught in a fishing net.
  • Adele’s hair like that makes her look so much older than she actually is. Isn’t she my age? Isn’t she only 22? She looks like a 50-year old.
  • I really don’t want to watch Chris Brown’s performance (but I will, in order to be a well-rounded and informed pop culture whore). Let’s not forget that he beat the shit out of Rihanna the night before the Grammys three years ago. His lack of social punishment for his actions is despicable and I will never be okay with it. No one stood by Rihanna. No one condemned Chris Brown for what he did. No one spoke up. No one gave a shit. What kind of message is that sending to the victims of domestic violence?
  • That being said, whatever he’s dancing on looks like a giant acid-tripped game of Tetris.
  •  I do not now and nor will I ever understand the point of lip-syncing. Why even pretend? We all know you’re not singing. This bitch never sings because he’s too busy flopping around the stage dancing like a crackhead. GTFO ya god damn wife beater. I hate you.
  • Fergie, I liked your dress better when it was a box of doilies.
  • HAHA AMBER ROSE IS WITH WIZ KHALIFA. That bitch gets around. Lezbihonest.
  • I’m just gonna throw out a guess here and say that The Throne is gonna win any and all categories they are nominated for.
  • All these lip-syncing mother fuckers should take note from Miss Kelly Clarkson. That is how you sing a song OKAY?
  • KC has a fat rock on her finger. Someone explain this to me!
  • Daaaveeee Groooohhhlllll maaaaaake outttttt with meeeeee!!!!!!!
  • You know how people say, “Wow, that band rocks!”? They were probably watching Foo Fighters when that phrase originated.
  • I can’t even fucking explain for excited I am for “Princess of China”
  • Loving this “We Found Love” thing going on. Hate Rihanna’s roots.
  • But like, let’s be real, get on with the Coldplay.
  • I hope Chris Brown is out there crying right now. Her body-ody-ody is looking on point right now. Damn.
  • For those playing at home, you should have taken you 5th shot just now.
  • Squealing like a little girl as Chris Martin comes out playing acoustic fucking guitar for POC.
  • For now, this song is about Chris Brown.
  • Remember when I saw “Paradise” live three days ago? From 20 feet away? Yeah me too.
  • Look at that crowd shot, with all those bracelets. You guys, this performance is everything. EV-UH-REE-THING.
  • I am so glad I am watching this by myself so no one can see how hard I am enjoying this performance.
  • Werq it on that guitar Johnny Buckland. You are a star.
  • Excellent performance. From Rihanna. From Coldplay. Flawless. Beautiful Stunning. Perfect. Best of the night and we’re only an hour into this.
  • That girl with the bangs from NCIS (I think) that came out with the dudes from The Giants is really awkward. And like, why is she even here? And what is she even doing?
  • The Decemberists are nominated for a Grammy? What the actual fuck is going on here? Bye bye to your indie street cred.
  • I like that all the dudes from Foo Fighters just threw on blazers over their t-shirts and tank tops and called it fancy attire.
  • Unlike classier awards shows, the Grammys just turn off your mic, cut the lights and introduce the next presenter if you run over your allotted acceptance speech time.
  • odpeijfhkshfksjdfjksdhfljgnfhklsdghsdjghlkdfhgkljdfgivjw;qeofghuueirgherg
  • ^^ Sorry, that was me dying from Adam Levine singing “Surfer Girl”
  • You know, I really appreciate that Adam Levine has sex with his microphone stand every time he performs. I think it adds a lot to his performance. It definitely adds a lot of drool to my shirt.
  • I don’t know much about Foster the People, but I do remember there is one guy who usually just stands in the background and FREAKS OUT while they play and since that isn’t happening right now, I am indifferent to this performance.
  • However, I will say that I would more than likely be willing to make out with every member of this group. They’re all pretty attractive.
  • Do you think people that liked The Beach Boys in their heyday are looks at these dudes like, “When did we all get this old?” because that’s what I’m thinking and I was born at a time when these dudes were already pretttty old.
  • No shade though, nothing anyone ever says (including me) could ever diminish the brilliance of this group.
  • I have NEVER seen someone look as uncomfortable as Adam Levine does after being brought back out to finish up singing “Good Vibrations”.
  • Take a shot! #6
  • If you’re Stevie Wonder and you wanna interrupt introducing Paul McCartney to play a quick harmonica solo, you fucking can! Because you’re Stevie Wonder!
  • Paul McCartney is performing right now, aka, I’m going to take a quick bathroom break and get some snacks.
  • I think Common should also make out with me. So, if you’re keeping score at home, that’s Bruce Springsteen, Bruno Mars’ tambourine player, Dave Grohl, all the members of Foster the People and Common that I’ll be waiting for. I better go get some Carmex.
  • Who are all these people nominated for best R&B album?
  • Don’t worry ya’ll, I’m booing at my TV from here. H8 u Chris Brown.
  • I enjoy The Civil Wars and I am glad they are a thing at the Grammy’s this year. However, I would very much like to switch it up and watch Taylor Swift for 60 seconds and give TCW a full performance because, ya know, I fucking hate T Swift.
  • So uh, is it socially acceptable that Taylor Swift does the same fucking thing every time she performs at an award show? Like, I know I said the same thing about Bruno Mars but I actually like him so, obviously I don’t take issue with the repetition. But everything she does annoys me. Especially her lack of variety in performance. Don’t they have a professional to fix that?
  • Taylor Swift is dressed like Bill Henrickson’s 4th wife.
  • Oops, I accidentally fast-forwarded through the rest of her performance.
  • I take BIG issue with what Katy Perry is doing right now. Real fucking mature to come out and sing a song about your ex-husband despite the fact that this is music’s HUGEST night and your fans are waiting to see a kick-ass performance of one of your HITS. Sorry your marriage fell apart but you’re not the first person to get a divorce and you’re totally pulling a Taylor Swift. To air your dirty laundry on national television is embarrassing and I expected way more from you. Disgusting. I just lost a lot of respect for her.
  • Also, she’s totally and absolutely dressed like a Power Ranger.
  • Is his real name Dierks? That totally blows.
  • Actually, I guess the fact that he’s really hot makes up for it.
  • Despite Adele’s less-than-favorable hair, I have to say, she is so beautiful. It’s completely unfair.
  • That being said, I refuse to listen to “Rolling in the Deep” one more time in my life so I’m fast-forwarding.
  • Best dressed: the girl Perry sister. GivemeyourskirtrightnowbeforeIripitouttamytelevisionscreen.
  • If I were a cowboy, I would totally be of the rhinestone persuasion.
  • Blake Shelton is 6’5. That ALONE makes me want to make out with him but adding to that, he’s super cute and talented sooooo add him to the list.
  • This is probably the only time I have ever heard “Rhinestone Cowboy” all the way through but I am still singing the chorus at the top of my lungs… alone… in my apartment.
  • Carrie Underwood’s dress. LOVE.
  • When I was at Jimmy Kimmel the other night, Tony Bennett was a guest and he was saying he’s been at EVERY Grammy award show since they started. That, my friends, is an accomplishment. You know what I’ve accomplished lately? I won 80 tickets on a game at Dave and Busters the other night.
  • How many times is Nicki Minaj gonna be nominated for Best New Artist? How long until you’re not considered “new” anymore?
  • Bon Iver just won a Grammy. Indie hearts are breaking everywhere. Now everyone who liked him yesterday has to burn their records and whine about how they liked him before he was famous. Sorry ‘bout it.
  • No one’s talked about Whitney for a while. You should pour shot #7, cuz I feel like that may happen soon.
  • Shot #7
  • Go ahead and take shots 8-10 for that tribute. Jennifer Hudson just blew my face off though. Dear god that woman has some pipes.
  • Deadmau5 and Foo Fighters? I’m intrigued.
  • Dave Grohl, when YOU go, I go.
  • Ummm this Deadmau5/Foo Fighters performance is FUCKING RAD. Someone get me an MP3 of this STAT.
  • Can’t wait till Drake and Nicki Minaj are no longer socially and culturally relevant.
  • Oh man, Catholics of the world are probably having a field day after Nicki’s performance.
  • I wish ya’ll could see my face right now as this whole exorcism thing unfolds.
  • Welp I guess since Lady Gaga isn’t performing tonight, SOMEONE had to defile some part of Christianity tonight.
  • ….. was that Amber Rose on stage with Nicki? I told you. She gets around.
  • I’m gonna go ahead and guess that putting cute little boys behind the priest is yet another dig at Catholicism. Sigh.
  • Adele wants to thank all the radio personnel who played “Rolling in the Deep” on the radio so basically she wants to thank EVERY RADIO STATION IN THE WORLD.
  • Good for Adele, this was definitely her year. Hands down. Bravo pretty lady!
  • Why the FUCK is Ryan Tedder up there with Adele? Did I miss something here????

Welp, there you have it ladies and gentlemen. Overall, it was probably one of the better years for the Grammys, however, I’ll offer some constructive criticism: a little less wife beaters and a little more Coldplay.

Generation 3.NO

To say we live in a life that is not fundamentally dependent on pop culture and Internet memes would be a profound lie. The latest, and seemingly media-monopolizing generation are the millennials: a group full of innovators and tech-types constantly changing what’s cool and updating the iPhone every year (which could possibly be one of the most irritating [and brilliant, if you think about it from a business approach. Damn you, Jobs. As if you didn’t already have enough money. Too soon? Rest in peace, good sir] things to happen in recent years. Wanna stay on top of the latest software? Nope. Can’t. Gotta buy a new one. Every year. And like, really, who has the money for that?). For most of the people in this group, those talents are used to invent new and seemingly cartoonishly futuristic ways to abuse technology in means people never thought were possible (I’m sure if you looked at Abe Lincoln in 1864 and told him that people would be able to send a letter via a device called a “cell phone” he would have laughed your ass back to fore score and seven years ago). There are a number of advances that have helped the world for the better: modern medicine is evolving and becoming more and more helpful, the space program is pretty neat and those fools at NASA are pretty close to finding aliens, right?

Unfortunately, millennials don’t get to take credit for those mind-bending and world-changing techs. No. Millennials don’t get to stand on top of a pile of cash, lay their heads down at night and drift off into blissful sleep because one of them invented the newest brain-scope to take out brain tumors through your ear. Millennials get to be excited about viral videos, Nicki Minaj’s hashtag rapping and’s “9 Cats Wrapped Like Burritos” photo gallery. That’s right, while Baby Boomers and Generation Xers get to invent useful new gadgets; millennials get credit for being lazy and weird. In a time where people get famous for “going viral” or falling off a table while dancing on a table they shouldn’t have been dancing on in the first place, there is a disappearing category for real accomplishments.

Now a days, instead of celebrating academic achievements, sitting down for family dinners or flipping through photo albums with your grammy and grandpa as they recount “the good old days”, people have notifications set up on their smart phones to tell them Demi unfollowed Ashton on Twitter. No one can even stay at the Hardrock Hotel downtown without hearing how Ashton brought his slutty hookup there. Heidi and Seal are getting divorced? Someone said something mean about Justin Bieber looking like a lesbian? The sanctity of marriage has been compromised, yet again, by some airhead bimbo who got married 36 hours after her engagement because her momager and some vertically challenged show runner decided it would make for a cool special? This, apparently, is news.

Even things as simple as chart topping hits have changed their ways. This generation is responsible for some of the most offensively misogynistic and appalling lyrics to ever exist. Remember when songs were about sunshine, lollipops and rainbows? When people could sit around the living room and listen to a record as a family? What would your grandmother say about Lil’ Wayne and all those tattoos. What would she say about Eminem’s blood pressure because he’s that angry all the time? What would she say if you turned on “Dance (A$$)” by Big Sean and Nicki Minaj? The hook of that song is, literally, the word “ass” over and over again.

Millennials and the 2000s invented YouTube celebrities like Kingsley, Jenna Marbles and Chris Crocker who sit in front of their computer and rant about things like Britney Spears, “white girl problems” and things that bother them on a daily basis. A chubby 12-year-old dances around her lime green and pink room, lip-synching along to Rihanna’s “Disturbia” (search: doglover199709) and this is entertainment? Where are her parents? Why is she allowed to do that? These people are the same as anyone else in the world; the only thing that made them “anyone” is a semi-decent camera and an Internet connection. New Internet technologies have given voice to the voiceless and that voice sounds like a screeching feral cat. Just because you have a means to make a video, doesn’t mean you should. The Internet (especially YouTube) should be a privilege, not a right (remember that girl who made that racist rant about Asians at UCLA? Yeah, well she got kicked out of school. So next time you’re annoyed by your neighbors or something, remember that things on the Internet don’t go away no matter how many times you push the delete button).

Instead of focusing on current events and things that matter to people, like the upcoming presidential election, for instance, the only thing that comes up on the Yahoo! homepage is a video of two twin babies sneezing and another article about Taylor Swift’s broken heart (because that isn’t evident enough from her terrible, terribly pop music).

If people channeled as much of their time and energy into useful inventions that may make the future easier (instead of dumber and more embarrassing to look back on) as they do into making bedazzled bras for an upcoming garishly overpriced 3-day Vegas rave, maybe millennials would have something to brag about in the future instead of being the group that came up with Nayan Cat and Rick Rolling.


New Years Resolutions.

Quit rolling your eyes. I know I’m not the first nor will I be the last person to blog about New Years resolutions but like, come on, you didn’t expect anything “a-typical” from this bitch, did you? The following are a list of resolutions I have absolutely no intention to actually follow. Don’t judge me, at least I have the balls to admit I’m not gonna follow them unlike every woman in the entire world who promises to lose weight, exercise more and eat healthier right after they run through In-N-Out for dinner tonight because they just “didn’t have time” to cook a healthy dinner for their family. I get points for being self-aware, k? Perf. As I was saying. The res’:

1. Stop using so much god damn conditioner.
I don’t know if you know me, and I’m assuming most of you don’t, but I have a lot of hair. And when I say I have a lot of hair I mean I have A LOT of god damn hair. I just saw Tangled for the first time and like, the entire time that little cutie was lugging her hair all around, tying it in knots and throwing it over her shoulder, I just kept thinking how much I can relate. Yeah, I said it. It’s Rapunzel-like. It’s thick, it’s long (that’s what he said) and it’s curly as SHIT so when it comes shower time, the shampoo-to-conditioner ratio is like 1:365. That’s right, I probably use a years worth of conditioner in one shower. I probably buy three or four jumbo size bottles of conditioner for every one normal size bottle of shampoo I use. And it’s been a thing my entire life. My parents roll their eyes to this day whenever I come home to visit and I ask them to buy a thing of conditioner when they stop at the market on the way home. And when they walk in with the regular size bottle of conditioner and I’m staying for more than three days I quietly laugh in my head. It’s pretty outrageous. But seeing as I only wash this lion’s mane every other day and only brush it when it’s wet, can you imagine how tangled thing thing gets?? By the second day I can barely run my hand through my own hair. And don’t give me any of that “No More Tears” Johnson & Johnson detangling bullshit spray because that shit DOES NOT WORK. So, after spending the better part of 21 years trying to figure out the least painful way to detangle my hair, the best (and only) solution is to use, literally, a handful of conditioner on my hair, let it sit for five minutes, then wash it out. So maybe I can make a conscious effort to use “just a quarter sized amount” like my dad reminded me EVERY TIME I took a shower when I was younger (sorry for not listening, pops).

2. Stop being such a gay man.
Alright, I can’t help it if glitter is my favorite color, I secretly love show tunes and I get star struck around my favorite drag queens from Rupauls’ Drag Race.  I can’t help it if I love the company of a beautiful gay man who also loves the company of a beautiful gay man. I can’t help it if I have 25 episodes of Will and Grace on my DVR and every time I watch it, all I do is compare myself to Grace and long to be besties with Jack McFarland. I can’t help how I am. I live by Mother Monster’s mantra. The gays have been a consistent part of my life forever. I’ve always had gay friends and people even refer to me as their favorite “hag” (which I totally hate, by the way. I prefer the term fruit fly). I don’t know what it is about me. I mean like, stereotypically, fat girls are always surrounded by gays because the gays don’t look at you like straight boys do, and I heard somewhere once that guys only have friends that are girls because they’re “not nows” or “maybes”. But I’m not your typical fat gurl. I’m loud and obnoxious and outgoing so maybe that’s what the gays are attracted to (okay, it might be all the animal print and sparkly eye shadow) but enough trying to figure it out. I wouldn’t say I’m constantly surrounded by gays as of late. I mean my best friend is gay and other than him I have a gay in every area code that I frequent, but I wouldn’t say my time spent with the gays hinders me from meeting hot straight men. Everyone who knows me well enough always tells me I’m a gay man trapped in a woman’s body but like, let’s break that down for a sec. Isn’t a gay man (the flamboyant ones, the kind I’m talking about) just an effeminate man? A girly man, to be less PC about it? So if I’m “acting like a gay man” doesn’t that just mean I’m acting like a girl? And isn’t that, as a girl, the right thing to do? YEAH, so fuck you all.

3. Stop watching so much crap television.
Welp, I got a brand new 40-inch HD TV with free HD for a year for Christmas so that is definitely not happening.

4. Be more of a classy fucking lady.
The jig is up, I cuss like a god damn sailor. I really and truly have a foul mouth. And to match my utterly offensive vile language, I also have a filthy mind. Any moment I can throw in a “that’s what she/he said”, I do it, I think any time is a good time for a dick joke and I just taught my 10-year old brother how to play The Penis Game.  I had a friend who was the exact same way and she believed us having such dude humor made us more appealing to other guys. I haven’t exactly proven that theory yet, but fuck it. Either way. My mom always told me that cussing wasn’t lady like but I’ve found that I really just haven’t found a better way to express myself without using the word “fuck” (or any variation of it) in a given situation. But I guess, when it really comes down to it, if someone can’t accept me and my foul language, they’re not worth my fucking time.

5. Stop judging sorority girls at school.
Hahahahahahahahaha. You and your bleach blonde hair, matching tote bags and upside-down sailor salutes are so annoying that I will literally inconvenience my walk around campus to avoid the Greek showcase in the quad. I’m not even gonna pretend to wanna do this one in the new year.

6. Make out with the Allstate Mayhem guy.
This is the only one on the list I actually plan to attempt to fulfill. Suck it!

Happy 2012 bitches! Let’s all hope we stay alive long enough for ya’ll to read all the funny shit I think up in the coming months.