The Swift conundrum.

All I've heard about lately is Taylor Swift. And for some reason, I can't get her out of my head. Maybe it's the fact that every radio station plays her three times an hour. Maybe it's the fact that MTV hasn't played music videos in six years, but somehow, hers are making the rounds. Maybe it's the fact that everyone on the internet is obsessed with her.

But I'm going to take the opinion of Sady Davis at Bitch, who calls Swift out for being a less-than-ideal representative of a young woman at the height of fame.

Let's take a step back for a moment, shall we? Back to when I was 16. Back to when my parents found out I lost my virginity because Newsweek had written an all-too-paternalistic feature on how great all these untouched teenagers were. I decided to compose a letter to the editor arguing my view that one could be a smart, responsible, upstanding teen even if you've let someone round the bases. Due to my unending wisdom and eloquence even in 11th grade, they wanted to print my rant. So they called my house to ask permission. While I was at school.

What I was rebelling against when I was 16 is what Taylor Swift has come to represent - the I haven't-given-it-up-so-I'm-better-than-you morality. Being a virgin, by nature, should not make you a "good girl." But the concept is endlessly perpetuated, and I am unwilling to call anyone an unlikely feminist unless they're willing to challenge the "The Disney Factor." The only representations of young women between the ages of 15 and 21 are the virgins or the whores. Our society refuses to allow the middle ground - the not-overtly sexy teenage girl who doesn't totter around on stilettos, but has given a blowjob or two in her day. No one depicts what most would consider average teenage sexuality (need I remind, 63% of high schoolers have sex before they graduate) - you're either riding stripper poles or calling anyone who doesn't wear a promise ring a slut.

For me, here's a big difference between singing songs for a particular demographic, and presenting onesself as being PART of that demographic. Raffi records music for young children - but he doesn't pretend he's a five-year-old. Taylor Swift, though legally old enough to vote, smoke cigarettes, view pornography and serve in the military, is making music for girls that are fourteen and presenting herself in music videos as though she were fourteen. Surely Swift's life experiences can't just be boiled down to four years of high school, can they?

The common response to the argument against Taylor Swift is that those who dislike her image "carry baggage," and "made mistakes" and are jealous of her adorable purity. To say I am envious of her money and fame is not ridiculous - I make thirty thousand dollars a year, for Christ's sake - but I think I've seen more in my 23 years than Taylor could ever dream of, and I'm happy to have that experience. I just don't think young girls need more patronizing, another famous figure who's telling them that if you are female, and you LIKE SEX, you are BAD. In addition, she is framing masculinity in excessively limited terms as well - BOYS are going to push you to do what you don't want to, BOYS are clueless and only go for the girls in high heels, BOYS are going to break your heart no matter what you do.

I'm not going to say that Taylor Swift is a bad role model, because I don't think she is, in context of broader pop culture. But if you look at Swift in comparison to artists such as Jewel, Alanis Morrisette and Fiona Apple - all of whom helped write and cut their iconic American debuts Pieces of You, Jagged Little Pill and Tidal around the time they were 19, Swift's current age - you realize how far she has to come. Swift is lamenting on losing boys to high-heeled cheerleaders and fantasizing about becoming a princess. "Who Will Save Your Soul" addresses American consumer culture, addiction and prostitution, and Jewel said she wrote it when she was sixteen. Alanis, instead of cowering and crying about her breakup, rants and raves and misbehaves on "You Oughta Know," playing anything but the docile feminine doll that Swift has come to embody. Fiona made it awfully clear she's a sinner in "Criminal," and ultimately, this self-awareness made all of us realize how adult she and the other Lilith Fair era ladies actually were. They owned themselves and their images, even at 19.

My point? Let's give it up for the ladies of the 90s. At least they didn't have an agenda other than being totally fucking crazy, and awesome.

Get a spine. Please.

Today in Dumb Young Women Who Don't Know What the Hell They're Talking About and They're Making the Rest of Us Look Bad, Eva Lorraine Molina busts out some bullshit about how women nowadays aren't "ladylike" enough.

I bet this girl just read "Modesty" by Wendy Shalit and thought she'd chime in with her own narcissistic, implausible, poorly written diatribe.

"On college campuses telling the difference between liberal and conservative women is nearly impossible when they behave in an equally undignified manner. Conservative women should display their values through their lifestyle. This means acting like ladies, because the difference between conservative and liberal women should not just be the way we vote."

Conservative women wear modest clothing. Liberal women dress like they're competing for Miss Hawaiian Tropic. I'm sorry but I can't take anyone seriously who makes sweeping generalizations and divides people into two categories.

"A lady does not tell dirty jokes along with men and she does not tolerate men telling dirty jokes in her presence. She does not swear, and she is not considered 'one of the guys.' In spite of new fashion trends, a lady always dresses appropriately, leaving a lot to the imagination. When at a social gathering, a lady does not do things she will regret the next day. Above all, a lady is well-mannered, dignified, gracious, and kind."

A lady has no sense of humor. She does not have fun, and she is not considered "someone you hang out with." In spite of new fashion trends, a lady wears the frumpiest clothes possible, hiding behind her baggy shirts and long dresses because she refuses to be seen as a sexual being. When at a social gathering, a lady sits around as a bored designated driver while her husband drinks thirteen Budweisers. Above all, a lady is passive, quiet, desperate and a doormat.

She goes on, my friends:

"Our society holds conservatives to a higher moral standard."

Let me repeat that, because the first time I read it, I choked on my water in a fit of laughter.

"Our society holds conservatives to a higher moral standard."

No wonder the Bush administration tortured prisoners, Larry Craig solicited a man for gay sex in an airport bathroom, Ted Haggard did meth with his hustler boytoy, Tom DeLay laundered campaign money, Mark Foley sent lewd messages to teenage Congressional pages, Jim Bakker served jail time for fraud and Jimmy Swaggert hung out with a prostitute at a hotel in New Orleans.

Really living up to that standard, let me tell you.

"I have heard many of my male peers place women into three categories: 'the ones to mess around with, the ones to date, and the ones to marry.' Though this is a rather crude way of categorizing women, it shows that men do recognize and value the qualities that make a woman a lady. Ladies are the kind of women that men can take home to Mom and Dad and that most men want to marry."

Sweetheart, he might want to marry you, but he's sure as hell not going to want to sleep with you. It doesn't matter if he puts a ring on your finger, you'll sit home barefoot and pregnant while he's sleeping with one of those women who's there 'to mess around with.' Sorry, but party girls always win. Get a grip.

What all of this boils down to, essentially, is this: Women are supposed to be perfect, happy, attractive helpmeets at all times. Any incidence of women showing INDEPENDENCE, any self-actualization, any time women show dissatisfaction with their lot in life or desire to change said lot, we are being "unladylike." And naturally, it's all OUR fault that society has changed and we've been labeled "sluts." It has nothing to do with the fact that men have been responsible for the hypersexualized female image in modern media. It isn't related to the fact that our society is entirely focused on the male gaze. And, in Molina's world, it's up to us to change in order to be respected by men - of course, it's not the responsibility of men to progress past patriarchy's "fuck them, date them, or marry them" axiom, and change to earn OUR respect. Get off the floor, Eva. Have some dignity.

we're onto you, asshole.

^above right, the hot guy I'm marrying.

at left center, a guy who has trouble getting laid because his eyes are way too close together.

I have a hobby. it involves reading, watching and listening to things that make me furious. usually Bill O’Reilly gets my blood boiling when I want to raise my blood pressure, but I’ve also become a big fan of reading the blogs of pick-up artists. I’m sure you’ve all, by now, heard of “the game,” a series of tactics that men who consider themselves “alpha males” use in attempts to get into women’s pants. I would hope these men would figure out that women are onto their bullshit games, but they keep on trucking, regardless.

one of their biggest proponents is a Washington, D.C. blogger by the name of Roissy. Roissy has developed a “dating market value” test, in which he lets us know that the ideal woman is: 17 to 20 years old, needs little makeup, is within the IQ range of 80% of people in the world, with D sized firm breasts, long legs, a round ass, flat stomach, toned arms, small hands, essentially hairless, small waist, smooth skin, plump lips, big eyes, is helpful, not competitive, doesn’t swear, smiles often, and who loves wearing sexy lingerie, giving blowjobs and doing anal and will try every sexual position. if this man isn’t mainstream media’s consumer darling, I don’t know who is. he’s after some essential virgin/whore that doesn’t exist, a stereotype of a woman within a heteronormative sphere, a youthful little wife-type with no opinions of her own and total reverence of men. he wants a submissive mail order bride because he’s so insecure that he can’t bear to be with a woman who might disagree with him or decide she doesn’t need him (PUAs are even more afraid of lesbians than they are of outspoken women).

one of his loyal followers: “But one can’t escape one’s genes, not even liberated moderns. Now unshackled, women are not inherently polyandrous. Rather, they tend towards serially [sic] monogamy.”

not only do these men fail to understand that women are human, they also choose to put 3 billion people in the world into one category. see the Zoe tribe of the Amazon, the Nepalese & Tibetan polyandrists, and the fact that you have never taken an anthropology class in your life.

Roissy is classic for contradicting himself.

“If she’s the gossipy, backstabbing, conniving sort who drips with sarcasm and generally disdains everyone around her, you can bet her black soul will seek sustenance on a carousel of cock.”

two paragraphs later…

“You want to be on the lookout for manic depressives and girls who can’t make it through a ten minute conversation without screeching in phony excitement.”

the message: a woman should never be cynical. nor should she feign niceness. she should be nice, all the time, despite the fact that on an almost daily basis there are pick-up artists breathing down her neck and hoping they can get her panties off, while she routinely faces discrimination in work and pretty much every other avenue of life.

and lastly, the fucking insanely racist piece de resistance:

“Sorry, folks, hate to say it, but going by my personal experience and what I’ve heard from friends, black chicks seem to sleep around more. Don’t blame me, I’m just the Deliverer Of Truths Best Left Unsaid But I’m Going To Say Anyhow.”

buy into socialized bullshit much? I bet he also believes everything Billy Mays ever told him, and that we’re winning the war in Iraq. also, Asian women are submissive, black men have huge penises and I’m a fat unattractive man-hating lesbian feminazi who needs a good fucking.

ultimately, Roissy and his ilk are merely men who use misogynistic and racist stereotypes as a means to explain whatever they’re not secure enough in admitting exists outside of the sphere of white male middle-class existence. a woman isn’t nice to you and thinks what you say is stupid? she’s a big fat whore! A woman is annoying? also a whore! she’s black and therefore has no common experience with me or interest in sleeping with me? total backdoor slut.

from the comments on a post:

“It seems that the betas would want to team up with the alphas and try to get better against our natural nemesis – women.”

the magnitude to which these men hate women is obvious, but what I’ve found more glaring is the fact that all of them hate themselves. they are obsessed with women – spending hours “practicing” even how to approach women, before even attempting to bed them. they assume “game” as their personalities because in reality, none of them are interesting, clever, intelligent or attractive enough for women to actually want to sleep with them. by becoming someone else, they can trick women into falling for them, though the women are actually falling for the psychological bullshit unloaded upon them, since the women they prey on are generally not smart or self-confident enough to see through it. the entire lives of these men revolve around women – whom they hate. they hate women because they can’t get over their obsession with vaginas; and, by extension, the keepers of those vaginas. Roissy advocates acquiring a nice car and a good job – not because they improve the life of the man, but because that’s what women like. I don’t understand how someone can be an “alpha male” when they’re actually living their lives entirely in a sad attempt to impress women.

an ode to beaus of days gone by.

ah, the good old days. when I was young, carefree. when I dated complete morons.

as I get ready to embark on this crazy journey you kids call "matrimony," I can't help but be reminded of my expansive and often frightening romantic history. I find this to be a good time to reflect and put it all behind me as I get ready to start life with the only person I've ever been in a relationship with who can actually deal with all my bullshit.

I put forth, for your examination: three of the most screwed up couplings of my 23-year-old life.


Exhibit A: Chelsea's Traveling Circus, featuring The 180 Degree Man

when I was 18, I was probably the most miserable person on the campus of Northeastern University. I was also the biggest mess. I smoked far too many cigarettes. I ate horrifyingly fattening cafeteria food every day, I wore way too much glitter for my own good, and I drank Southern Comfort religiously. after screwing around with a misguided emo kid, an actor, a software peddler, a pagan and a hipster, I fell for - you guessed it, or, actually, probably not at all - a long-haired World of Warcraft player English major who pretended to play bass. who was a virgin. pro-life. and a Republican.

not a very long story short, we dated for a year and a half. I took my second v-card. he broke with me over the phone right after my mom got out of the hospital, where she almost bled to death. not that there's any ill sentiment remaining. it appears that after we split, he cut all of his hair off and voted Obama. how charming! I like to think it was my bold, overtly feminist ramblings, but it seems to me now that he was either 1) naively under the political direction of his overbearing Catholic mother, who continued to buy him action figures for Christmas when he was 19. or 2) claiming to have voted for Bush and and against abortion simply to irritate me. I wish him all the best, regardless of the fact that I actually have no idea who he ever was to begin with.


Exhibit B: Work Relationships are a Bad Idea, Even if One of You Doesn't Work There Anymore

fresh on the prowl in January 2008, I admitted to a former coworker that I had a crush on him following an inebriated night in the city. we had worked together as co-ops and had spent most of the 6 month period making fun of each other. he admitted the feeling was mutual. things are supposed to progress grandly from there, are they not? we met up in Allston for drinks. drinks turned into hanging out at my friend's friend's house until 3 am. that turned into an awkward sleepover on my parents' couch. we made out in a stairwell at Jillian's during a work party. he took me to lunch and left me on the stoop of my office building, and he didn't call me again. until he found out I met someone else. turns out he was "cleaning up the mess" of his psychotic meth-addict ex-girlfriend, who has her eyebrows tattooed on. last I heard, they had a beagle together. mazel tov.


Exhibit C: I Thought I Did a Dead Guy

I just want to preface this story by saying: when I was 17, I was an idiot.

I met a guy on the internet. I'm not going to go into my internet rant, and I'm not going to discuss how the internet has led to two engagements of people I know. including my own. all I will say is, I met a guy on the internet. and he was a lot older than me.

seven years older, to be exact. I invited a guy seven years older than me to come to my house. and he did. and he brought pot. and I hooked up with him.

we went for a walk around my neighborhood and he invited me to go "camping." now, we all know about "camping." "camping" is not cooking on an open fire, sleeping under the stars and enjoying nature's pleasures. "camping" is going somewhere so you can have sex in a tent. and foolish me, wanting adventure and more of this guy's pot, agreed. I met him at a forest in Taunton. he regaled me in stories of jam band festivals and sleeping with a woman in her forties so he could get unlimited use of her Cape Cod beach home. he told me all about the trailer he lived in while we sat in my Jeep to avoid mosquitos. I was bored and he was an asshole. I drove home the next morning and never saw him again.

one day, curious about the hippie douche I went "camping" with, I Googled him. much to my surprise, I found an obituary for a person of the same name, and approximate same age, from New Bedford, where he claimed to be from, but the obituary was dated 1999. I convinced myself the loser I met assumed a dead man's name so he could screw high school chicks from the North Shore, and fell into a miserable shame-slump about it.

recent Facebooking has refuted my initial conclusion. the guy I met from the internet did provide me with his real name. he only used his weed to bed me. and his about me says it all: "you could never understand this shit." I think I do, Brian. I think I do.

I'm nobody's strumpet.

I have a dream.

I have a dream that I will find a generous benefactor who will give me insane amounts of money to use at my leisure simply for being the fantastic creature that is Chelsea.

apparently, my dream is not so unique.

I have been pretty intrigued lately at the fuss about SeekingArrangement.com. if you live under or a rock or don't read any of the Gawker blogs, SeekingArrangement helps people, well, seek arrangement. by arrangement I mean pathetic gold-digging "sugar babies" latching onto rich, lonely, seemingly-sex-starved self-righteous rich jerks. men attach a net worth to themselves, and a monthly "budget" of what they will spend on the right whore lady. in their words:

"An Arrangement is short for 'Mutually Beneficial Relationship' between two people. Such a relationship is usually between an older and wealthy individual who gives a young person expensive gifts or financial assistance in return for friendship, or intimacy."

it's tempting. I am an American. I like clothes. I want a car. I have bills to pay. denying my consumer-driven mentality is about as pretentious and phony as asking somebody rich to finance my lifestyle in exchange for my companionship.

I've always found, though, that being a gold-digger is a question of dignity. either people will take handouts, or they won't. I come from the stock who is too proud to take money, let alone ask for it. unfortunately, I am a big selfish brat. however, this, like all things, has limits. I obviously have never cared about money when it comes to dating. anyone who knows my track record is baffled at how I have only been sexually attracted to poor dudes. I'm even marrying one.

which is why the SeekingArrangement thing just won't settle right with me. it assumes that the greatest currencies in a relationship are money and beauty. that's a sound model, I guess, if you recognize that it's directly related to every advertising ploy in modern society. but it's bullshit if you actually consider that 95% of the population is 1.) not rich and 2.) not beautiful. furthermore, it perpetuates the idea that the best way to get what you want is to fuck someone who has it - money, power, even a discount at the dry cleaners. and anyone with half a brain will tell you - a truly classy lady would never screw for money.

what I always wanted was a charming, fascinating older woman with no children of her own (and, obviously, a small fortune) to take me under her wing. I would visit with her twice a week and drink extra-dry vodka martinis while she warbled about how much I reminded her of herself at my age. then she'd give me $2000 to go buy a nice coat and do something about that god-awful hair, a woman should never let her roots show.

if anybody's got any hookups to lonely old ladies with eccentric accents and no heirs, let me know.

die ticketmaster, die.

I ain't no hippie. I buy clothes that are most likely made in sweatshops. I enjoy Wendy's chicken nuggets and I've probably unwittingly contributed to the 401(k) of the CEO of R.J. Reynolds. but there are two companies that really infuriate me: Wal-Mart and Ticketmaster.

now, I know that Wal-Mart basically has America by the balls. I know that there are hundreds, possibly thousands, of towns across America that base their entire economy on their local Wal-Mart: where everyone works and everyone shops. and though I find their employment policies discriminatory and sexist (and I am rooting for the million-strong class action lawsuit against them), I recognize that, conscience be damned, sometimes you have to buy things cheaply and you have to buy them from Wal-Mart.

but there is no excuse for the monopolistic shitpile that is Ticketmaster.

yesterday, whilst showering, I was contemplated this devil of a corporation. Seth, Joel and I are planning on going to see Peaches (of F**k the Pain Away fame) in a week and a half. we went online on Tuesday to purchase the tickets from LiveNation - and found that two $18 tickets were going to cost us $54 - with a NINE DOLLAR convenience charge PER TICKET. you may not be aware, but Ticketmaster and LiveNation merged in February - creating the single-largest ticketing powerhouse in the world. Ticketmaster already controlled the sale of tickets for more than 80% of the venues in the U.S.

I still cannot understand how they have weaseled their way into this deal, effectively avoiding federal antitrust law. David Balto, on AmericanProgress.org, summed it up best, as follows. the beast that is Ticketmaster & LiveNation now:

• sells most of the concert tickets in this country through its contracts with venues
• manages a significant number of the marquee performers in the world or controls their tours
• owns most of the amphitheatres in the US and owns more 'club' venues, as well as controlling (through owning/leasing) a large amount of other clubs and theatres
• owns two of the major resellers of tickets
• owns various sources of competitively sensitive data

so basically, unless the only live music you're into is listening to that homeless guy play his 25-year-old broken Fender Strat in Davis Square on a Sunday afternoon, you're pretty much screwed. I still can't even fathom where Ticketmaster gets off charging YOU $2.50 to print a ticket ON YOUR OWN PRINTER, USING YOUR OWN INK. not to mention the "facilities fee," which, I assumed, the club just made by overcharging you for booze. they now lump all the fees together into a simple "convenience charge," which they say is to pay for the convenience of finding tickets from your home computer, rather than standing in line at box offices, like they did in the days of yore. but here's the thing - running that online system doesn't cost Ticketbastard ANYTHING. it has boosted their profits tenfold to sell tickets online to anyone, anywhere. and now they've been caught with sending customers to TicketsNow, a so-called ticket "reseller," seconds after tickets are put up for sale on Ticketmaster, and charging huge markups. it seems like the rape will never end.

I won't be going to half as many shows as I used to. I guess it doesn't matter anyway, because the new House of Blues fucking sucks.

why I need to stop drinking.

(yes, that's me. with a budzilla. I don't want to talk about it.)

I could basically write a tome about all the reasons I need to cut back on my alcohol consumption. if you know me, you know that I drink (and often cuss) like a sailor. I'm a firm believer that everyone has a "kicker" substance, something that once they try it, they find it's the perfect fit, and don't ever want to stop. some people, unfortunately, find that to be heroin. I would say a good lot of people are content with weed. for me, liquor was it. at age 15, I knew I would be imbibing spirits for the rest of my life.

this affinity for hooch has made me notorious for being, well, a total lush. I am consistently named in online surveys as the "friend you drink with." and I was proud of that. for a while.

you see, now that I'm out in the "real world," I drink every day. it used to be that I'd spend the weeknights studying, or, when I was living with my parents, watching TV and passing out at 10 pm. since I've moved in with the Stairmaster, life has been all rainbows and pinot grigio. more often than not, I can't remember how I ended up in bed when I wake up the next morning.

in no way has this problem manifested more than DRUNKEN FACEBOOKING. oh yeah, you all know what I'm talking about. I've found recently that I've left messages:

- yelling at people for not watching movies with me (?)
- incessantly asking people for their addresses to send them invites to the WEEEDDDINNGGG (gross)
- outwardly making fun of family members (okay, moderately funny)
- giving very poor reasons whilst trying to explain why I didn't call someone on their birthday (I suck)
- admitting that I'm on the verge of a nervous breakdown and cry incessantly (crap)

and of course, many of these sad attempts at communication were, you know, misspelled.

there's nothing really quite as mortifying as alcohol-related guilt. maybe when you were stoned you said some dumb things, but mostly, your statements were just insanely obvious, slowly vocalized, and bookended by giggles. on cocaine, everything you said was so brilliant, so genius when you thought of it, it amazed you. although most likely, whoever you were talking to wasn't listening, because they were just wishing you would shut the hell up, because you thought you were so goddamn smart when really you were just reiterating something you heard on that stupid wolf blitzer show.

but the whole not knowing what you said thing is really scary. the internet leaves, essentially, a click-trail for you to follow, read the insanity you typed, and gasp in horror. it was a lot simpler when all you had to do was assume you left some slurred message on your friend's answering machine, and call them with a half-assed apology, while remaining once removed from your moronic comments.

so I have to stop drinking. not because I'm missing work, or because I'm on my fourth dui. not because it's bad for my liver, not because it makes me beat the children. but because of the internet.

desperate guys never had a chance with me.

some of you may or may not know that I met my fiance on craigslist. true story. it was a chance encounter that turned out, luckily, to be awesome, but just as easily could have been disastrous. that's why I find it quite funny to read the insanity that is "men seeking women." it reminds me how lucky I am to not be dating anymore. seriously, these guys are real pieces of work. for every one guy that is genuinely looking for a relationship, there are probably 30 men who are pathetic, entirely narcissistic or just plain dumb.

so check out these beauties I found today.


You: Like Horror Flix,Metal,House/Trance...love to hit the gym, like tattoo's cuz I have a few. (tasteful not obnoxious) Ready to do anything on a moment's notice, caring, not into games, ready to cut to the chase, sense of humor, look fab in a bikini and oh yeah..you are financially independent. I am not set on anyone one thing but like my women who take of themselves(tanning,gym etc) and have a brain to go with it.

"Ready to do anything on a moment's notice"... oh, so you mean, unemployed and without hobbies? I like how this guy uses "ready to cut the chase" as a euphemism for "easy." Also, it's hard to be brainy when you spend all your time in a tanning bed and on the elliptical.


this here gem comes from a man four years away from being a senior citizen:

Would you like to go to dinner and a movie, then back to your place or mine and just lie down and cuddle, hug, kiss and be together? I would.

I wouldn't, jackass.


a young man from Allston boasts about himself to impress you:

As for how I look, you will not be disappointed. I work out a lot, and am very cut, with abs. Please do not be overweight, and if you think your way too good for Craigslist, then you should be emailing me. Again, this is with no strings attached unless you want some strings in there.

if you think you're way too good for Craigslist, then you shouldn't be ON CRAIGSLIST, MORON.


I am impressed by this young gentleman's honesty:

i have an addiction to coffee so if your the type of girl who likes to go out to one of those cafe coffee shop type places, i just might have to tag along. maybe i'll even try one of those fancy type things they sell like lattes or whatever they are called. I went to one the other day and it was pretty cool. One thing i really hate is shaving. so if you like guys to be clean cut all the time, sorry. i'm gonna have a bitchin' beard someday.

you made it to 2009 and you don't know what the fuck a LATTE is? oh, and thanks for sharing that story about your magical journey to a coffee shop. really interesting. glad to know you hate shaving - hopefully, then, you wouldn't expect any woman you date to shave either. hairy armpits for everyone... bitchin'! he goes on:

another thing i should throw out there is the fact that i do not go to school. schools not for me at the moment. i do have some semesters under my belt and i will return at some point, but not right now. i also do not have a car at the moment because i crashed into a telephone pole during a snowstorm earlier this winter. i'm just waiting til the spring to buy a new one. enough of me rambling on.
right now i'm just hanging out drinking coffee, watching sportscenter waiting for the news at noon.

at least you admit that you don't go to school or have a car, and nobody's going to have to waste their time going on a date with you only to find out that you are pretty much useless. I'm also really enamored with the way he said he was going to stop rambling, and then rambled on for another whole sentence about nothing, which also served to indicate that he also doesn't appear to have a job, since he can sit around watching sportscenter all afternoon. FAIL.


I had to read this four times before I even understood it:

am still single guy looking four a girl its hard too go talk to the kinda girls i like becouse am sum what shy am a chill guy how like to hang out watch movies music mostly rock metal sum bules little rap polish hip hop any kind music if i like it drink sum what party play vid game hang with freinds play my guitor i paint drow no fake or made up online girls how say come talk to me on this site i will not go to that site i wanna talk to u here on this site am looking four girls that live close by to me am a cancer sign am 23, 58 polish&irish i was born here live here my hole life pluse too find a little hottie girl only if u girls have pic & phone number so i can call u so send them am four real am a nice guy as u can tell please girls dont wast my time

I'm sure none of you people who made it past the fourth grade can even get what he's trying to say, so I'll decode all you need to hear:

I am for real (despite the fact that I can't differentiate between a conjunction and a number). I am a nice guy, as you can tell. please girls, don't waste my time.

don't worry, I'm sure after you waste everyone else's time as they try to decode your giant run-on sentence catastrophe, they won't bother.

brides are f**king crazy.

since I've started planning the wedding, I've been looking at a LOT of stuff online. it's been really helpful and the internet is responsible for my awesome self-designed wedding postcard invitations, our paper lanterns/fans, my parasol, and my DRESS! (which is still in the works).

I never realized all of the things you have to think about when it comes to a wedding - where people are going to sit, how to decorate, how to do vows & readings, music, thank you cards, etc. I've spent a lot of time looking at different sites for advice, checklists and the like.

as a result, I've come in contact with maybe the greatest site ever, and the site that maybe the signifier of the coming of the apocalypse.

offbeat bride is soooo bomb. they celebrate unique weddings that stray from the original rules, which is exactly what I'm going for. their associated ning community, the offbeat bride tribe, is a great community where people can share their weddings *without judgment* and get inspired by others' creativity. there's lots of DIY, lots of people with ridiculously small budgets (like my own) and lots of like-minded people who don't buy into the WIC.

the WIC, or wedding industrial complex, if you're not familiar, is otherwise known as the wedding industry and its completely fucking inane constructs. the diamond engagement ring is a product of the WIC and the invention of a female copywriter from the 1940s. a diamond is forever? not really, only about 65 years.

another invention of the WIC is the concept of lavish white/ivory gowns which you HAVE TO WEAR. white was only made popular by Queen Elizabeth I; prior to that, gowns were blue. blue was actually meant to signify purity, while white was used to show wealth (ie., you could keep a white item of clothing clean). the furthest any bridal magazine will stray from white/ivory is a light champagne. if you are getting married, you will be told by society that your only option is white. too bad for those assholes, because I'm wearing navy.

but the whole idea of the WIC - spending $20,000 or more on a super-formal wedding that includes elaborate flowers, three course meals, videographers and giant fondant cakes - is crap, in my opinion. and no place is a bigger cheerleader for the capitalistic, material shitshow that is the modern wedding than theknot.com.

to be frank, the women on the knot are evil. okay, so maybe they're not possessed by Satan, but if you dare to speak on their community and do not have professional engagement photos, they will proceed to call you tacky and cheap and try to get you kicked off the site simply because you are not a spoiled little bitch with daddy paying for your $4000 Vera Wang gown.

I am not resentful of these women with unlimited budgets and dyed-to-match bridesmaids. I'm really not. I am happy to have a small, intimate, casual wedding. that's exactly what I want. I just don't understand why these women have to be so fucking mean to people who don't like what they like. it's like high school, all over again.

these women spend all day on the knot's community forum, asking about whether or not they should buy chocolate fountains. these grown women make avatars of themselves in their wedding dresses and write bios about their relationships, as if anyone gives a shit. they are pretty much the most self-absorbed, bitchy, stereotypical wedding-and-baby-obsessed female products of our patriarchal, greedy society that exist. if you meet a woman and she says that she's getting married and then goes on to spend 10 minutes talking about her "colors" and whining about how her maid of honor actually has a life, RUN. just run. these women make me embarrassed about being engaged. they don't care at all about marriage, just having their "perfect day" that they won't even remember when they're fighting over the china during the inevitable divorce.

I'm not embarrassed about my period, why are you?

last week, I took a day off of work for my own personal mental health and sanity. seeing as I was right in the throes of my period, I took a leisurely stroll to Rite Aid and proceeded to pick up a multipack of tampons, and take them to the checkout line. I also purchased a pair of pantyhose, and a teeth whitening kit. the nice older woman at the register chatted with me about the weather and bagged my items, and I paid and left. only after leaving the store and walking down Highland did I realize what she'd done.

the woman doubled-bagged me.

I don't know if they teach people this in drugstore-cashier-training or whatever the hell they do at CVS, Rite Aid and Walgreens... but every time I buy tampons, they're double-bagged. maybe they do it for every embarrassing purchase, you'd think, but I bought anti-diarrheal pills at CVS a few months ago and they single-bagged those fuckers. I have yet to get a verdict on whether or not Preparation H is tagged for two bags, but I'm gonna guess it's not.

why does this anger me, you ask? because this seemingly harmless little old lady who's manning the register at Rite Aid is contributing to the continued stigma of the menstrual cycle - an element of EVERY WOMAN'S LIFE. every natural born woman, illness or certain conditions notwithstanding, menstruates. so I don't understand why, in 2009, we still have to double-bag feminine hygiene products, which EVERY WOMAN NEEDS AND USES. why are women not allowed to have normal bodily functions? oh, that's right, because we're not supposed to be human. we're supposed to be sweet-smelling, gentle, delicate creatures that don't grow body hair or take shits.

I know this woman probably grew up in a time when periods started with a capital P: for Private, and Personal, and Positively no sex involved. but we need to seriously rethink how we're acting about menstruation, and what it may mean for the next few generations. I'm not embarrassed about menstruating. it's a part of life. I'll take a single bag for my tampons, thank you.

the alternative to real world, is just time for me and a fantasy.

I need to explain something to everyone.

my obsession with this musician.

most people have no idea who IAMX is. and that's very well, because I will enjoy continuing to see him play at T.T.'s, singing and gyrating mere feet from me. IAMX is the stage name for Chris Corner, the lead singer for Sneaker Pimps, known for little other than "Six Underground," the trippy downtempo radio ballad from the 90s.

this is possibly the most androgynous man on the face of the planet. I mean, this guy puts Brian Molko to shame. he wears insane makeup, rarely has a shirt on, and has at least 5 top hats covered in glitter. all of his songs are synth-driven, dark electro songs about sex, drugs, bisexuality, and gender identity. he is decadent, extravagant, a fusion of sound and images. in short, if I were a man, and had any musical talent, I would be him.

if you're interested in what a stylish drunk with a political bent and a penchant for the dramatic sounds like, check out his page on Last.fm: IAMX.

good. now you all get it.

yeah, I'm getting married, you jerks.

okay, so this has basically been the strangest/oddly hardest thing I've ever done.

the last thing anyone thought I would do. aside from spawn. but no worries, folks. my uterus has no plans of serving any purpose in the near future.

all I seem to get is faux excitement from most people. which is fine. believe me, when I start talking about centerpieces, I want your eyes to glaze over. please, everyone, make sure I'm not one of those women. I still will never be able to care about the difference between a princess or an asscher-cut diamond. I could give two shits about whether ivory or champagne is the right color for a veil.

and to anyone that was genuinely hurt or bothered by the fact you found out on facebook - I'm sorry, I really am, but I wasn't going to call everyone in my phone and gush about my impending nuptials. I know I should have contacted some of you, but I really don't know how to handle all this stuff and I don't want this to be the focus of my personality for the next 6 months. it's hard enough dealing with my mother's reluctance. yes, I am young. no one is more aware of this fact than I am. but I met someone that I know I want to hang out with forever. what's the point of waiting when I'm more sure about this than I've ever been about everything in my life?

okay, /wedding-related rant. upward and onward to bigger things.

HAVE YOU HEARD THE NEW JUNIOR BOYS? um, crap. it's awesome. they're playing at the middle east in may, so I finally found some use for my ticketmaster giftcards. if you're not familiar, let this blow your mind:




I just found out IAMX is releasing a new album in may as well. my heart bursts.