YES. ALL SORTS OF YES. These are the wisest words I’ve ever heard from a child. We ARE all a little gay. Way to go, young Honey Boo Boo. Tell all the bucktooth folk watching your show that we should accept something we all have in us. Shit, she’s so much better than any Republican social platform already. Which, by the by, here in Minnesota the conservative fuckholes of society decided this would be a great billboard to put up near a busy highway:
Um, WUT? 50 years ago, conservatives were beating up black people because they didn’t want them in their schools, using their drinking fountains, or sitting anywhere they liked on the bus! Are you fucking kidding me?! And now they’re trying to tell us that the formerly most unequal citizen of the United States is now supporting an issue that strives to block equal rights for another minority group? Good lord. Have mercy on the poor souls who don’t see the irony in this.
Moreso, I feel sad for people who will vote yes on the marriage amendment. It’s not even an argument, it’s just fucking rude. As a society, we should support stability and monogamous relationships as much as possible, not to mention the happiness of our fellow earthly brethren and sistren. That’s why imma vote:
Oh sweet Katy Perry. I’ve only recently accepted her smash hit album Teenage Dream into my life because I’m a stubborn pop bitch and so over gaga’s antics. However, her love life is beginning to show some dark patterns with a past scattered with addicts.
So what’s the deal? Either she’s into some shit too, or she likes to play the savior, although her song “Circle the Drain” would beg to differ. Maybe it’s just that you can’t meet or date anyone who hasn’t been addicted to drugs or anything. Caffeine, porn, cigs, weed, booze, blow, meth, buzzfeed.com, etc. We’ve mostly all got our vices, no matter how big or small our addictions may seem.
But goodness, does she have a record with boys with substance abuse! First there’s Johnny Lewis of Sons of Anarchy fame, who recently passed away and is now a murder suspect in the death of an 81 year old woman.
Then there was Travis McCoy, singer of the band Gym Class Heroes, who had a pill addiction and is supposedly the inspiration behind “Circle the Drain”.
Then there was her short-lived marriage to Russell Brand, who (breaking the cycle!) was/is a recovering addict (who actually said Katy’s drinking and partyingmade him uncomfortable). Let’s also not forget her fling with John Mayer. He’s almost as bad as drugs anyways.
So, is it her strict Christian background that sends her into all of these drug-addicts’ arms? Some would argue that being so very religious is an addiction. Maybe she’s searching for someone who is as passionate about something like her dad, who just happens to be a former drug addict as well. Or is it her need for something edgy in her life? Some rock street cred if you will. What’s rock and roll without drugs, right? This is absolutely the darkest spot and pattern I’ve been able to identify in our dear Katy Perry’s life as a pop star. We can only wait until her next romance to see if this is an innocent connection or an unfortunate trend in: The Men of Katy Perry.
Do you ever feel like things in your life are just a little bit off? Your roots are showing, you hate your clothes more than anything in the world, and cameltoe jokes just don’t make you laugh anymore. I’ve got the solution: Thairapy. A combination of a hair stylist and a therapist to really dig deep into your postmodern woes and better yet, fill your goddamn roots.
I have no idea if this shit exists. It should. I bet it could have in the 90s. Because really, a hair stylist is sort of a therapist. They ask you questions about your life while they’re touching your head, and for some reason this physical contact coupled with the life inquiries causes you to spill anything and everything to your stylist.
It helps that most hair stylists are chatty and like to keep the conversation going while they deal with your split-end situation, but what if our hair stylists were also licensed therapists? We could go in for highlights, a brow wax, and a little existential cleansing. I’m not talking heavy-hitting therapy sessions for people with legitimate weekly therapy sessions, but more like a little check-in with a licensed professional for the rest of us. Think of the breakthroughs! Think of the daring haircuts! “Do you feel like having short hair?” “What do you think this hair color means for your life?” “Your ends are telling me you’ve had a bad month.”
I think we carry so much of who we are and how we feel in our hair and our appearance in general. Constant maintenance or lack thereof for our friendly follicles can really say a lot about where we are in our lives. Craving a new ‘do? Maybe you’re craving a change of scene IRL. Split ends from the past 3 years? What are you holding onto? It could be that some people are just lazy or OCD with their hair, but maybe there lies a little more beneath the surface than just a new cut and color. Who better to dive in that someone who already helps you look and feel amazing? I WANT THIS SERVICE NOW. COME ON AMERICA.
As a teen watching (and idolizing) them bitches from Sex and the City, I never really thought I’d go through similar dating mishaps. Watching the show, you’re either “That guy is a total DICK” or “Oh my god, I LOVE him” to any given dude the golden four ever picked up.
But now as we all are hanging on to our first full time jobs, apartments, friends and dating lives, things are starting to make a lot more sense from the world of one Ms. Carrie Bradshaw. For instance:
Funky tasting spunk (I can’t believe there isn’t a meme for that. WTF internet!)
Worrying about never dating again in your current city pool of eligible mediocrity
Sometimes you’re just not that into people, and they just aren’t that into you.
Date richer so their town car can pick you up. Cuz scooters are cute for a minute and all, but fuck that.
Don’t date someone who makes you camp. You will break their heart.
Your soulmate might be bald. But the sex might be great. So don’t be a bitch.
Don’t move to Paris with an old Russian artist when your Mr. Big is right where you left him.
God, we are FUCKED. At least we have cooler than cool friends to brunch and bitch with about our dating warbles. Mimosas don’t pour themselves, and good stories don’t come from people who stay at home.
Fur is the shit. There’s something that changes you when you put on a fur. Lights feel brighter, wine tastes better, and if anyone gets in your way they’re like half scared that you’re a prostitute with a switch blade.
I have a rabbit fur coat that I got from Savers in Rochester (MN). It’s second hand fabulous. There are a couple of seam rips and the thing sheds like a dog, but I can’t give it up because some rabbits died and why waste their sacrificed life wearing a fucking Columbia jacket and looking like a bad tipper.
And yeah, every time I think about how a REAL fur coat is made, I feel bad. I love animals. But I also eat meat and live in the waaaaay far north where a fur coat is actually used for it’s warmth. The added coat fierceness is a bonus. But either way, eating meat, wearing fur, having poor asian peasants make our iPhones for 8 cents so we can find the nearest Taco Hut; this world is fucked and we are big assholes. But that’s why faux fur exists: so you can only kind of be a dick human being, instead of a slightly bigger dick of a person. Progress.