Tag Archives: lies

2013 is totally going to be my year! 5 ways I’ll get a man!

Guys! Just look at my new glasses! You know 2013 is going to be my year! I am going to get a total make over and radically change my life! I am going to get a husband this year! Oh yeah! Just you wait and see – I’m going to change into the Cheryl that banker dudes will be lining up around the block to put a ring on! Here’s how!

1. Get a job in “fashion”! Screw this comedy/day job bullshit. All the husbands are going for fashion chicks. Lord knows, I could use one of those guys! AND –  It’s not a job that anyone is ever sad to see you leave either. Catty bitches, I can’t wait to count myself among them. They can’t wait to talk about how fat any girls thighs actually were after they’ve left. “Gross! Her ass left an imprint on her chair even! Ew!” My man won’t be threatened by my job in fashion, but he’ll probably cheat on me with those catty bitches. I’ll just be prepared and  have cleaned out my closet to make room for all those forgive-me-presents I’ll get in handbag form.

2. Use “totally”, “totes” and “totes-mcgotes” more! How are I’m going to get a man if he thinks that I’ve actually have thoughts and can use vocabulary. Any man that gets a six figure bonus is lying when he says he wants a smart girl. He wants some one who went to Barnard just to be able to say she went to Barnard. Who majored in International Studies or some other marriageable subject. Not anything that would get her a career, or anything crazy! I can fool them!

3. Three words for you – Brunch, BRUnch, BRUNCH! That’s right! I am going have to spend my Saturdays either with my catty co-workers at brunch, or with my catty friends bitching about my catty co-workers, or trying to draw my man into conversation with either set of catty bitches while consuming over priced eggs and prosecco mimosas. I will not be a real lady unless I’m brunching hard core.

4.  Anal. No one wants to buy before they try any more. Where’d the good old fashioned days go?

5.  Listen only to Taylor Swift, Nikki Minaj and David Guetta while doing Pilates and Kegle exercises. Because I don’t need any music that will give me any ideas in my pretty head or distract me from the most important things about snagging and keeping a man. Keeping your stomach and pussy tight!

Here’s to 2013! When I spend all of my disposable income on eyelash extensions, manicures and dinner “dresses” from BeBe! That should work, right?

Does anyone else have these things that they thought were real as a child but turned out to be dreams?

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When I was a kid I used to go camping with my family at this place called The Wolf’s Den. I was convinced that there was a cemetery either on the grounds or just beyond them. After all, I was seasonal friends with an albino kid who also camped there every summer, so why wouldn’t there be a cemetery. It was New England after all.

The albino kind, whose name was Ryan, and I had a lot in common. We both liked to stay in the shade while we were camping and supposed to be being all outdoors. Him, out of necessity and me because the sun made it hard for me to read Lord of the Rings for the fourth time. I just thought that we were both kind of dorky, I willfully ignored the fact that all Ryan talked about was being on the junior high basketball team and how he would be schooling those kids on the court if only it had some shade. I wanted to believe that he liked be-dorked and be-speckled me, but he was just a bored jock who was glad to have some to talk to.

I thought that there was this cemetery in the woods behind the campground for years after we stopped bringing our pop-up camper there. It had a high wall that people would practice shooting off, there were remnants of broken pottery and old bottles littering the grounds. The monuments were early 1800′s old and had the lichen growth on them to prove it. I loved and hated going there. It was quiet and peaceful but also a creepy reminder that you will be forgotten.

Turns out, that cemetery is not real. I must have had this reoccurring dream when we went camping at The Wolf’s Den that over the years my brain had turned into a real memory. I suppose as any kind whose family didn’t get them, I needed a respite and my brain made one for me. I went back as an adult and walked the grounds and the woods around it searching for the path and the wire fence that we would duck under to get to it. All I found was old growth forrest and bucolic meadows. There was no cemetery, no wall, no ceramic remnants. It really was just a dream. And I was pissed that reality just made a cliche reality.

The hurricane week in a nifty infographic!

We were lucky in Brooklyn. For once, the choice to move out of Manhattan was looked on with envy. As soon as the power is back, I am sure that the East Village will go back to lording it over Brooklynites tout de suite.

In my neighborhood, and many in Brooklyn, it was business as usual for the most part. Here’s what most of us were doing.

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so the final debate is tonight, here’s the ten things you should be doing

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I’m going to get you bear.

Here’s somethings you should be doing either during, instead of or could do at anytime really.

1. Rooting for the underdog! That means Ron Paul! You know that you should just write him in as a candidate. Him as president would just be the tits. He’s like an ersatz Ross Perot.

2. Keep an eye out for the key that winds up MItt Romney. People say that he’s a robot. I think it’s more sinister and more old-timey than that. He’s just clockwork with 2 settings, smarmy and smug.

3. Kicking any one in the crotch who says that they are still undecided. Seriously, at this point, if you haven’t made up your goddamned mind you deserve to get kicked in the taint.

4. Ask about Obama’s birth certificate, again! It’s never too early to bring back 2008!

5. Show your tits (if you have them) every time either one of the candidates dodges a question. Why not treat the debate like Mardi Gras? Then every one gets a treat!

6. Pretend to be undecided. Watch your liberal New York friends have heart attacks as they try to swing your vote.

7. Wish that swing state was an actual physical state that you could be in. For me it would be being on the best tire swing, eating Cool Ranch Doritos, and then going through the car wash not in a car.

8. Get some fucking sleep. You need it more than these guys need the ratings bump.

9. Imagine both candidates with Rachel Maddow’s haircut and try not to snarf your gin and tonic out your nose. Which leads me to number…

10. Drink like there is no tomorrow! I’m pretty sure that the Mayan’s were right and the world is over this year so who cares if you roll into work hung over on Tuesday. Your boss probably, but if Romney wins you better get used to hiding your hangovers because booze is going to be the only way to get through these next grim, regressive four years.

my thoughts on the debate last night

Smug is Mitt Romney’s resting face.

Last nights debate played out like an 80′s teen movie, but where the preppy guy ends up getting the girl! Not fair! I almost expected Romney’s collar to jauntily pop at the end.

And that awkward meeting of the families! Of course Obama wasn’t about to have his girls part of that weird ass public party. How were the Obamas supposed to go home and have anniversary sex after that?

And I am disappointed that none of my predictions came true. But so glad that I had my drinking game! We killed it with G&T’s and yelling at the TeeVee.