Don't Let the Cunts Bring You Down

I don't know about you, but sometimes, I have "Vietnam war-esque" flashbacks about middle school. I'll be in my office, in a tailored H&M skirt, and images of a chubby pale redhead with glasses, braces and cystic acne will pop into my head. Other images will assert themselves into my brain, like when Naomi Fields stole my lunch, and Taylor Horowitz laughed at me with her friends because I always had food stains near my crotch. Before I know it, I'm crying and murmuring Crosby Stills Nash and Young quotes to my adult professional self : "Don't let the past remind us of what we are not now...Allison," and checking my skirt for hot sauce stains.

You would think that a woman in her mid 20's-early 30's would tuck away her cunt self for greener pastures of human decency. Unfortunately, these female middle school bullies do not go away, they just resurface in our adult lives. Some of them take on form of the secretary, who always comments on what everyone is wearing:

“Did you see Sarah’s skirt? I really don’t know why that slut works here.”

Or the coworker who always seems to trick you into a racially offensive conversation

“Hey Allison have you ever been to Jamaica?”

“Um No”

“Yeah, there are way too many beggars there who love Bob Marley.”

Or that condescending acquaintance who always needs to give a compliment/insult duo:

“Oh you’re applying to business school? That’s great. I could never do that, not enough intellectual stimulation for me!”

Whatever the form, these cunts are everywhere, testing our spirits and trying to assert their weak offending agendas on to our daily lives. Yes, yes we can all have a laugh with our therapists and write these women off as insecure, or scoff at their need to constantly reassure themselves, but that doesn't always numb the slight sting that triggers the playground flashbacks.

If we truly cared about every snide remark some cunt says about us; about what some cunt says to temporarily feed her ego, we would become unable to focus on ruling this male dominated world. So what can we do to immediately diffuse an undesirable cunty situation?

Here’s where Lindsay and I come in.

Let’s say you are at a bar and some cunt goes out of her way to make you feel uncomfortable. You walk in and instantly see her judgmental eyes squinting as she tries to formulate some unnecessary, uncultured remark. Then, like a small bomb that nobody cares about, the words ooze out of her mouth:

“Oh you ordered cheese fries and a shot of Hennessey? I would never put that stuff in my body.”

At this point, there’s only five words you can say to end the negativity, and go on loving life.

Take a deep breath, make eye contact, and state:

"I can see your mustache. "

This play on gender boundaries will catch any woman off guard (even if they love their mustache), and hopefully emphasize the absurd nature of the interaction. As she looks at you, perplexed, simply walk away and enjoy your night knowing you ended an unnecessary negative moment without digging too deep.

Things That Should Never Happen: Religious Anti Halloween Facebook Propaganda

This Friday morning series is dedicated to people, events, objects and animals that Lindsay and Allison believe should not exist.

Since Lindsay's last post freed many women from dressing as hyper-sexualized versions of pirates, witches and Dorothy's from Wizard of OZ,  we do not have time for religious Halloween haters. These people were just short of linking Halloween to Obama's health care plan. See below (click each image for a better view).

On Not Bringing SexyBack

Hey friends. Halloween is almost here, and if you’re anything like Allison and me, you have dropped the ball yet again on securing an awesome costume in advance. Gone are the dreams of working out every day and eating only carrots so that you can be an “ironic” Rachel Zoe. You’re stuck with your regular body, a limited budget, and no ideas. So what’s

Unknown person as Meg Griffin,
Halloween 2006.

a gal to do?

There’s a common misconception – it has been passed down through the ages, and even immortalized in dialogue from Mean Girls – that girls have to be slutty and/or sexy for Halloween. What, you’re going to be the Virgin Mary? Well you have to be a SLUTTY Virgin Mary (duh, no one believes that Immaculate Conception story anyway). C’mon, the Virgin Mary was poor, I’m sure her clothes barely covered her body. You should really just glue pieces of hay to your nipples and carry around a baby doll (a sexy baby doll, if possible). Or, if you’re going as something that doesn’t seem to lend itself to sexiness easily, such as a fast food icon like Wendy – put a sign on your back pointing to your braids that says “Handlebars,” and go around vaguely offering to give people frosties. People will obviously not think your costume is creative or that you’re clever/witty/intelligent unless your boobs are bustin’ and you’ve managed to concoct a short-skirt-stripper boots version of whatever your character’s real outfit is supposed to be.

So ladies – Allison and I are here to provide you with a simple yet astonishing fact. You do not have to dress like a slut to have a good Halloween. Besides, you will probably get sick from the combination of strolling around scantily dressed and making out with the dude who is dressed like a pimp (and is convinced he’s the first white guy to think of this), keeps talking about how funny The Hangover was, and undoubtedly has gonorrhea.

But how will you compensate for the good feeling you ordinarily get by showing an extra inch of thigh, or getting groped in line for the bathroom because you are so totally hot? Simple answer: figure out a pop culture icon that is beloved by all educated, middle class 20-somethings, who also does not rely on sexiness, and execute it perfectly. Then, use that character’s general wittiness to make disparaging comments about all the “desperate” sexy vampires and slutty Ronald McDonalds. For the year 2009, your top choices are:

1) Liz Lemon. All this requires is fake glasses, a stain on a flannel shirt, and a bowlegged walk. Then to insult sexily dressed females, whisper in a tough voice, “How’s your mom’s pill addiction?” [Sidenote: This costume might be becoming over-popular. Good alternate – Sue Sylvester from Glee. You can wear a track suit and shout nonstop about not having a uterus and how you’re going to vomit down’s people’s backs.]
2) Hillary Clinton. Just treat all the other women as if they’re Sarah Palin. And wear pants. Plus if you really want to you can always grab a Barack Obama-costumed person as a conversation partner, and then you can increase the troop levels in Afghanistan together.
3) Kim from Real Housewives of Atlanta. I know what you’re thinking – Kim’s tits are everywhere! She wears a blond wig and tons of make up! Yes, it’s true that Kim dresses like a girl in a slutty Halloween costume every day of her life, but that does not mean she is actually sexy. In fact, she is the polar opposite of sexy. Dressing like Kim will probably repulse a lot of people from you, but it will also give you the opportunity to scream the lyrics to Tardy 4 the Party all the time, and make claims that people choked you. You can also hang out with the dude dressed like Lindsay Lohan’s daddy. But beware: if you start some shit, someone’s gonna pull that wig off.

And here’s the final kicker with non-sexy Halloween costumes. Not only do you get free license to make fun of everyone AND remain comfortable all night, if you want to, you can still have sex with that dude who keeps talking about The Hangover. It’s just that easy.

Status-tician

Nothing is worse than acute over compensation via technological means of communication. That's right. Even communist China is less-worse than these diabolical exaggerators.

I nearly cut myself after reading my Facebook news feed Sunday night. One status message after the other read “I love my besties" "Omg best weekend EVER" "Holy crap I love my life so much I might explode." What the hell are these people doing that makes them have any more fun than the average 20-something professional? Are they sky diving while on ecstasy? Did they have some spiritual awakening while farming organic tomatoes in Portland, Oregon? Did they get 'napped by a cult that will only allow its followers to use the words "love" and "friendship"? Why the need to portray a continual state of unsurapssable fun?

Last week Lindsay and I decided to do some research on these “claims of extreme levels of fun.” We followed up with Jillian, a mutual "fun-haver" of ours. Here is how her story unfolds: ""

Jillian the Fun-Haver’s online status: “Last weekend was the BEST of my life. My friends are the greatest in the world.”

Judging from Jillian’s statement, Lindsay and I hypothesized that she and her friends helped deliver baby seals on the Alaskan coast. I followed up with Jillian utilizing g-chat:

Me: Hi, what’s up? Tell me about your weekend!

Jillian: Oh, we had a barbecue.

Me: Sounds great. What happened at the barbecue?

Jillian: Oh, well I ate a burger and Josh made this dynamite corn salad. Then we got drunk. Like really really drunk, and KEPT eating!

Me: Oh wow, great.

Jillian: haha, oh and George made a joke. I forget what he said though.

(The end)

This isn’t exactly the kind of experience that would denote such a bold public status message – yet this is always how the conversation ends up; someone claims to have reached the holy grail of social fun, when really they just went to a bar, had friends over at their house, played board games or drank "omg so much whiskey" that they said some silly things, and fell asleep without washing their face. Unless someone tells me they had an orgy on the dunes of St. Tropez, research proves that we should all take these online projections with several large grains of salt.

I’m not saying we haven’t all exaggerated about our lives or had the urge to exude happiness when we really want to have a good cry at home, stroke our cat, and ironically "hate-read" the self-indulgent divorce’ novel Eat Pray Love. However recently, from an outsider perspective, these hyperboles of fun seem to have gotten a bit out of hand. How can we utilize our status messages without sounding like Rachel Ray on crack?

This is where Lindsay and I come in:

Let’s say you went on an amazing camping trip with your friends in Telluride, Colorado and you want to illuminate others on your experience – not out of competitiveness, but because you actually want to share a piece of your life with your 300 closest facebook friends. Here is how you can do it:

YOUR Status:

I had a great weekend. I was in Telluride, Colorado with some friends. We rode our bikes down a steep mountain, we went rafting down a rocky river, someone caught a fish and we ate it (except for Kathy because she’s vegan), then we drank until the locals seemed attractive. My choosing to share these facts about my weekend in no way belittles the fun that you had on your weekend. The fact that I am posting that I had a good time does not mean I had a better time than you, or that I am better than you in any way. In fact, some things about my weekend were lame, like when I got bit by mosquito's and forgot to buy marshmallows. Have a great day.

This non-threatening update highlights your most recent adventures, and invites others to engage in a virtual exchange of life’s joys. It realistically portrays that even great experiences have their down side, but that it's all part of the human experience. Use this method of status rendering and separate yourself from other people's hyperbolic tendencies.

MILF Island

I’m gonna get right to the point. I’ve got some more mom info for you. And before you get your hopes up, no, I’m not telling you my mom’s name. Why would I give you that kind of ammo? Instead, today I’m going to answer the age-old question, what do you do if your mom is a MILF? If you’re a guy, I imagine you spend your time fending off jokes about your mom’s MILF-ness from your straight dude and lesbian friends. But if you’re a girl, it’s a little trickier. When people call attention to the fact that your mom’s a MILF, it is not necessarily to make fun of you, but it nonetheless puts you in the position where your level of attractiveness is being directly compared to that of your mom. And this can be awkward.

In the interest of full disclosure, let me just say: yes, my mom, is a MILF.

Here’s how having a MILF mom can go down. Sitch #1: Your mom is super hot, and has been her entire life. You have matching bleached blond hair and tans and exchange work-out tips. You call each other to discuss Grey’s Anatomy episodes after they air, or, if you live close enough, you watch them together. In essence, you are a carbon copy of your MILF mom. This does not put your friends in an awkward position, because they already know you are hot. Their response to seeing your mom is something along the lines of, “Whoa, you look exactly like your mom! No wonder you are so hot!” Or the always trite, “You two could be sisters!” (undoubtedly said for the benefit of the mom, because come on, Goldie Hawn and Kate Hudson look exactly alike but no one thinks it’s Goldie sucking my will to live when Kate appears onscreen next to Matthew McConaughey in what is undoubtedly another awful decision in her short film career already littered with awful decisions).

Matching hot mom-and-daughter sets don’t need advice. You created yourself in Mom’s image, you live with the repercussions.

Sitch #2: Your mom is super hot and always has been, and as a result you go the polar opposite. You either look like your dad (which is not always unfortunate, but sometimes can be – ahem, Rumor Willis), or your mom’s overly perky super-commitment to diet and exercise has made you bitter and closed off. Or, you may be a combination of the two – part rebelling against mom, part inescapable dad-genetics (Meghan McCain, I’m looking at you. P.S. Maybe you should take that rebellion and turn it into being a Democrat). Thus, when friends comment on your mom’s MILF-ness, you tend to get angry. You go through everything wrong she ever did, from childhood to the perky email she sent you this morning with a link to her new workout regimen. You hate that your mom is a MILF and you will silently hold a grudge against any friend who speaks too enthusiastically about how attractive your mom is.

Sitch #3: You left for college and your mom inexplicably became a MILF. She’s gone from pleasant looking, pretty woman in mom jeans to MILF. So now, at age 20, you have to adjust to your mom being a MILF for the first time ever. At the same time, you kind of look like your mom and aren’t unattractive, but she still beats you in hotness. Here’s how the conversation goes with friends when you are in sitch #3:

Friend: Dude! Your mom is a MILF! I’m texting Joe!
You: Yeah, what a surprise, huh? I bet you never would’ve guessed.
Friend (looks up from text): Oh, I mean, I didn’t mean it was surprising. I mean you guys kinda look alike. I – you are like, her DILF, I mean, not that I want to, cus we’re friends and that’s – and D stands for daughter by the way, not dog or dad or -
You: (sigh)

Here’s what you should do if you’re in sitch #2 or 3. When someone says, “Dude! Your mom is totally a MILF!” you have a couple of options. If your mom is married, quickly think of the reasons why her husband (who may or may not be your dad) is not appealing sexually. If she isn’t married, quickly invent a tale that will make your friend feel bad. It will go something like this:

“C’mon Jane. You’re usually a pretty good friend. But my mom is biologically unable to have children, so I was conceived in a lab in Stockholm with the sperm of Sweden’s only famous race car driver, Ansgar Nilsson (fake name is crucial here, as it makes you seem more believable). Every year we participate in his fundraiser that simultaneously donates money to AIDS victims in Africa and funds the art scene in Eugene, Oregon. Our family really tries to focus on things more important than whose mom you’d like to engage in coital relations with.”

OR

“Oh, Tom. You are a nice, capable young man. You have a good job, nice teeth, and a Blackberry. And my mom is married to my dad. He is middle-aged, has a beer gut, and only wears collared shirts with sports insignias across the pocket. He puts ketchup on his steak and then the ketchup gets stuck in his mustache. He actually thinks he can alter the outcome of sporting events simply by screaming at the TV. But she’d still rather fuck him than you.”

Things That Should Never Happen: Tweeting your Twat

This Friday morning series is dedicated to people, events, objects and animals that Lindsay and Allison believe should not exist.

Ann, a dear friend of Lindsay and Allison, told us about a friend of her's (on facebook and real life) who recently decided to over communicate about her uterine cave. Enjoy (click on each image for a better view).

What’s a Hayden Panettiere Anyway?

So here’s the deal. We’re none of us getting any younger. If you’re anything like Allison and me, you have a very busy life trying to pretend that you’re not the average 9-5er. You pretend this even though you and most of your friends work 9-5 business casual office jobs. The exception to this is your friends who are graduate students who will eventually work 11-3, with full summers off and month-long vacations in the winter, and who love to bitch about how underappreciated they are for their research on masculine anxiety in the works of gay northeastern Irish-descended American writers from Vermont. In an attempt to NOT be a boring working professional, you do interesting things in your off time, like drink whiskey and watch art movies, drink wine and go to art shows, drink PBR and watch your friend DJ at that hipster joint and sort of dance without really committing to it, or drink martinis and watch Mad Men. You know how it is.

With all this hip drinking taking up your free time, you might soon realize that your finger has slipped off the mainstream pop culture pulse, thus leaving you as out of touch as the aforementioned graduate students. So once you realize that this has happened, how can you remedy the situation? This is where Allison and I can help you out. I know you have your local music venue email you whenever cool new shows are in town, and that you know when Jazz in the Sculpture Garden is. I'm sure you're invited weekly to all kinds of awesome events. But the last big pop culture phenomenon you got in on was Harry Potter, and that started when you were 15. This means you have lost touch with mainstream pop culture (note #1: If you have read Twilight, this post does not apply to you). Here's how we can help.

Fact: all celebrities born between 1987 and 1993 have ridiculous names. Most of these names contain an overabundance of -ay, -eigh, -ai, etc. It is your job to mock these names by comparing them to whatever inanimate object or event they sort of sound like.

Here's how to put this strategy into play. Let me teach by example. One day I was chatting away with someone and they said, “What do you think of this Hayden Panettiere?” while gesturing toward the TV. Note #2: I had to look up how to spell that girl’s name just now. And then I spelled it wrong anyway, so I corrected it. But it was STILL WRONG. It took me three tries to spell her name right. This is not helping her case for fame at all.

I had absolutely no idea who or what a Hayden Panettiere was. I’m still not sure I do. Obviously, from the context of the conversation, I could tell that it was the girl onscreen in the Clearasil commercial, but that girl looked exactly like every other girl who has ever been in a Clearasil ad. Ever. So why was she famous? Was she even born in the same decade as me? (answer: yes, but barely). How do you not look like a hopeless, resigned-from-life middle management square in this situation? And why does your friend, who is the same age as you and maintains a similar lifestyle, know who she is?

Even though it is embarrassing to like pop culture as a hip 9-5er (exception: Kelly Clarkson, who is awesome and is loved by hip 9-5ers nationwide), you still need to know about it, so you can make fun of it when the time comes. This is easier when the famous person was not born from 1987-1993, because then you have a chance of identifying them by name. You will not get lost in a sea of vowel sounds. Example: Someone says to you, “Did you hear about Jon of Jon & Kate’s new fling?” You have never watched the show Jon & Kate Plus 8 because it is undoubtedly awful, but you know what it is for moments just like these. The appropriate response is: “I totally did, and you know who told me? Pamela!” (because that is Jon Gosselin’s MOM’S NAME! If you didn’t know Jon’s mom’s name you could simply substitute it with your friend’s mom’s name). Your friend might not get it but you get very high invisible points for obscurity and execution. Also, what are you doing being friends with someone who follows Jon & Kate? But back to those celebrities born during the late 80's/early 90's nadir. Their names are neither Jon nor Kate. How do you handle them with wit and grace?

Back to the question: what do I think of Hayden Panettiere? The commercial is winding down. I have no way to look up Hayden Panettiere’s mom’s name (note #3: It’s Lesley, for future reference). Also, since I have only heard this young actress’s name one time, I’m not even sure I could correctly repeat it.

And so I retort, “Hayden Pantene-what? Is she a scone? Is she a combination shampoo-conditioner? Is this some new invention from Starbucks in which you save time by eating breakfast and washing your hair at the same time?” And this really works as a double-joke on both Starbucks and Hayden Panetierre, because hip 9-5ers don’t go to Starbucks since it’s too corporate and they probably do have some kind of scone-shampoo combo that comes with a small latte for $2.95.

My friend laughs and we spend 20 minutes talking about how we hate the names Aiden, Jayden, Braydon, Payton, Caylee, Ashley, Miley, and Chase (sorry if that’s your name, but you really should know how I feel about it).

Much like subtly learning people’s mom’s names, associating famous pop acts with everyday items is an endless source of comedy.

* Jonas Brothers: a coffee that comes to you with a certificate of its purity.
* Taylor Swift: Chuck Taylor brand of running shoes.
* Kellan Lutz: I refuse to acknowledge that this is a person. Maybe this is a bag of potato chips. Maybe.
* Blake Lively, Leighton Meester, Penn Badgley: a horse that once won the Kentucky Derby, a social networking site that admits that it’s all about “Me,” some sort of sew-able badge you get for penmanship for your sash in Girl Scouts. In the 1950s.

[Author’s note: In researching how to spell Hayden Panettiere’s name, I came across the fact that her ex-boyfriend’s name is Milo Ventimiglia. It's too bad they broke up, because he is the venti-caffeinated-beverage to her scone. He may also be a cat on an adventure with a dog.]