Sunday, February 28, 2010

Another Boner of the Day

The USA hockey team. So we didn't win (and yes I've been watching hockey all day). But I'm ok with not winning. I mean, that's the one thing Canada's all about right? Hockey? Sure, why not, give it to 'em. We've got the hotter team, though. By far.

Boner of the Day

Johnny Lee Miller. At the risk of sounding like a a total loser, man was he smokin' hot in Masterpiece Theatre's "Emma." Then today I watched Hackers cause he's in it and did you know that him and Angelina were married and that they met on the set of that movie? I read something about her getting married in a white tee with his name spelled across it in blood. What a crazy ho! Hackers totally sucks nards, by the way. Oh and he was also in Trainspotting. Total boner.

Winter Blues

I suppose I can't be mad at Jenny for trying to insert some boners. See what I just did there? I've been slacking a lot on the blog front, but honestly this month is depressing as fuck. Lost totally sucks, work is a giant poo stain, it's been snowing forever, earthquakes are running rampant and I didn't get any birthday cake on my goddamn birthday.

But before I take the whaaambulance all the way to my own pity party, I'd like to take a moment to appreciate the things that are keeping my spirits (semi-)high during this miserable winter.

1. Vintage photos of Steve Yzerman. I don't know much about Hockey. Right this very moment I'm watching the men's hockey gold medal game and my Canadian buddy just texted, "Ready for your hockey enima yankee!" Um, I guess? He doesn't realize I only watch this shit for the hot, toothless men. But I know enough to look up vintage pics of Yzerman. He's like a 1980s Zac Efron.

2. Modern Family. Does anyone else realize how hilarious this show is?

3. Bodega fig newtons. Anyone else feel me on this one? I can't explain it but for some reason I'm addicted to those wheat fig newtons they sell at deli counters. I guess I'm a simple woman.

4. The hot intern at my office. I talked about this already, but this past week I found out that the pretty but boring intern I've got a crush on is going to SXSW. What a coincidence! I, too, will be at SXSW. Methinks I smell an opportunity on the horizon to sexually harass a young boy.

Thursday, February 25, 2010

Shit I'm Too Lazy For

There are many things I boycott in this world, mainly eating establishments or people that I feel have wronged me in some way. The trouble with my personal boycotts, is that I am extremely lazy, which makes it hard for me to stick to them. Sure, I could walk another block to the other salad place or make a new friend with benefits, but then I start to think about how much more work and effort that would take and I'm like you know, the salads are pretty good at that closer place, and making new friends? Ehh, who's got time for that. So I wind up giving that deli/shitty friend another chance and maybe for a little while they will make glorious salads and help me fix my bike, but I know that in the end, I will end up paying somehow, whether it's an extra $1.50 for tofu or it's shame sex. Vicious circle.

Man, this snow is making me delirious. Bottom line is, laziness makes me do a lot of things I don't want to. But it can't make me do this stuff.

Wash the shower curtain. Getting it off the bajillion little rings it's hung on and then putting it all back on again? By the end of that whole ordeal my arms are hurty and I usually decide to forgo showers altogether so I don't have to deal with that business anymore and decide I'm going to be a "bath person" from here on out. Then I remember that baths are time-consuming, kinda gross and only fun if there's another person in the tub with you, preferably one you're hittin' the skins with.

Sell shit on Ebay.
Oh Ebay, you deceitful bitch. I really don't buy a whole lot of stuff on Ebay, mainly because I don't like waiting, I'm more of an instant gratification girl and also because I am so bad at remembering to bid. I always watch something I want and (to my brain) am like don't forget to bid on those boots Jenny, then I get a reminder email from Ebay that says "Don't miss out on bla bla bal" and I'm all "Thanks Dad, but I really don't need a reminder, pretty sure I won't forget to bid on that Bart Simpson t-shirt, uh maybe cause it's fucking awesome" and I roll my eyes and delete it. What happens next is I forget to bid. It always goes for like a nickel more then my starting offer too. So imagine that, then picture me actually listing an item, checking it, and going to the post office and waiting in line to mail that jaunt? Yeah, I don't see that shit happening in this lifetime either.

Simple repairs.
I'm talking things that would take me about one minute to fix. My doorknob, for instance. That shit refuses to stay on and every time I make it do its one job (close the door) it jumps ship and tries to make a break down the hallway. It fell off again about a week ago when my friend left and I heard it hit the ground. No way was I getting up to fix that business, so it has stayed half broken until I had friends over Tuesday and jammed it back together. Now we play the waiting game. Someone will eventually come over and accidentally break it (preferably a handy dude) and I'll score a guilt-fix out of it. Yes, this is really how my mind operates.

Trade in my sack of change for actual money.
Apparently, I do not enjoy free money. My friend Eric gave me a giant cup of change he had been collecting when his company moved out of our office, as a present since he knows I am a poor hobo and it was really nice of him and I was super stoked. That was one year and two months ago. Sorry Eric, you're my boy, but walking that sack of change five whole blocks to the bank? Where I will probably have to talk to "tellers" and then most likely spend my new skrilla on frappaccinos on the way back to my office anyways? This is why it is still sitting in a plastic bag next to my desk. At this point, I'm just testing morals of the weekend cleaning crew.

Boner of the Day

Shanon will be none too thrilled with me for this one I'm sure, but how could I resist making this dude B.O.D. Gandy sent me this video, saying "I would so play doctor with him." And I would too, not gonna lie. Motherfucker dresses up like Wolverine AND a Stormtrooper AND a Transformer! Besides, she has been slacking in the Boner Dept. as of late, so I am going to step up to the plate. And according to me, I just knocked this one out of the park.

Friday, February 19, 2010

I'm Gay For Dance

Let's open up the Why Jenny Should Have Been Born A Gay Man file for a mo (see what I did there?) because my love for dance is reason number #46 or so, right behind My Fascination With Grindr and My Love Of "Chicago", that I blend in so seamlessly with teh gheyz.

Last night, Blair got us tickets to go see his ex boif (we'll call him "Jon") perform with his current dance company. Of course we sprung for the $10 tickets, which put us front row center, and since Blair hadn't talked to Jon in awhile, maybe came off a wee bit stalkerish. But no matter, because I am totally gay for watching dance, even though I know nothing about it. One of my favorite secret pastimes is getting stoned alone and watching that show "So You Think You Can Dance" and the last time I saw Jon, I'm pretty sure I got drunk and told him he should try out for it cuz that shit is bananas (how they move like that?!). He then informed me that would be like Christina Aguilera trying out for "American Idol" to which I said whoa there, conceited, but in hindsight he is probably right.

But yes, the dancing was crazy. At one point this dude did a performance that involved a strobe light and karate pants and somehow I swear to christ, he flew. I didn't know whether to bug out about getting a seizure or be pissed that I wasn't on shrooms. Think I was a little of both.So we sat there waiting for the next number, minds blown, wondering what was gonna happen, when I heard Amanda say, "Music by Dave Matthews band??..."
Yeah. The last routine, which went on for like four songs, was all set to Dave Matthews Band, a deadly Boner Sniper that we never even saw coming.

Then, just when we agreed the night had gone from hero to queer-o, all was forgiven, when I laid eyes on Eric Bourne, who I'm officially making the Gay Boner of the Day (tough titties Shannie), cause this is one of the hottest dudes I have ever seen. And I'm not even into blondes! Seriously though, in love. So this guy was obvy a gay because I had just watched him leap around in skin tight clothes for an hour, but that didn't stop me from calling dibs. Being an honorary homo, Blair wasn't too thrilled about this, so I was surprised when he leaned over and said "Me and Jenny are going to have our first threesome." Then he changed his mind, decided he wanted him all for himself and informed me that he would break my glasses and scratch my eyes out.

Shit got way more stalkery the next day, when I convinced Blair to find him on facebook and friend request him. Which he did. Then (hilariously) sent me a fake email from our new boyfriend/future baby daddy:

"Hello Jenny,
Thank you for coming to my show on Wednesday. We really enjoyed hearing you laugh throughout our performance. Here is a photo of me.
You're a sweetheart.

But you look at this photo below and tell me your day didn't just get about forty percent more wangtastic. Happy Friday.

Cirque Du Soleil - What The What

I'm at a loss for words on this one. My coworkers and I actually scammed our way into free tix to see the Beatles Cirque Du Soleil (fuck Criss Angel and his mind freaks) and I have no idea what I just experienced. It was some next level weird and I was on some super strong mushrooms. Tears were rolling down my face from the very first scene when I realized what the fuck I had just gotten myself into. There were people flying around, buildings collapsing, little orphans, strange-ass clowns, extreme rollerblading, lots of jumping on trampolines, umbrellas with smoke coming out of them and shit I don't even know how to explain. At one point there was a giant parachute extended on top of the entire audience. I dunno man.

After it was over my coworker said that he needed to lock himself in his hotel bathroom with all the lights off and just sit in the tub. Yup.

Here are some thoughts that were running through my head during this experience:

Don't those orphan kids in the show have school tomorrow?
Do all these freaky-deaky circus peeps have freaky-deaky orgies with each other?
What the fuck is happening right now?
What am I doing with my life?

Thursday, February 18, 2010

Boner of the Day

That dude from Face/Off!

Without getting too deep into it, whenever I see this guy in a movie I say "Oh shit it's the hot dude from Face/Off." Then my buddies rip into me for seeing this movie enough times to even remember the guy who played Nick Cage's younger brother. But you know what? Fuck all of you. I remember hot dudes, and this guy is slammin. You wanna know what else? That movie killed it, and homeboy was also in Jurassic Park 3, which also killed it. THEN I was watching that movie Coco Before Chanel the other day and he's it in ...SPEAKING FRENCH. I will hit that.

Vegas, Baby

First off, I'd like to apologize to the 5 of our friends who read this blog for not writing anything in a while. I am a lazy fuck.

But guess what? I'm currently in Las Vegas so that means amazing stories that need to be preserved on the internet for all eternity. Tonight, for example, I'm eating mushrooms and going to see Criss Angel Cirque Du Soleil. You will all be thankful for this, I promise.

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Happy Valentimes

While waiting in line for the elevator today after grabbing lunch, a guy walked into my building behind me and about two seconds later said "Jenny? Do you remember meeting me Sunday night?" Of course the answer was no, silly human! Then I slowly remembered him coming up to me at the bar and saying he recognized me from the office building we share. Since I had been drinking for roughly ten hours (at a Valentine's Day Erotic Photo Hunt tournament no less) when I bumped into this guy, at the time I am sure that I was pretty fucking stoked. In the elevator today, ehhh not so much.

Talking in elevators is kind of the worst. Small talk is not my strong suit and I never like situations where you are forced to come up with conversation for a specific amount of time and elevators are especially awkward because you don't even have interesting things to look at or talk about. You can't talk about the other people in the elevator since they're standing right next to you and so you're pretty much left with these topics:
1.Weather (It's so hot/cold/windy/beautiful out! The weather forecast was wrong/right again! Supposed to get more rain/snow/storms this week! Kill me.)
2.How tired you are (Save this one for 9am or 6pm)
3.What did you get for lunch (This one gets a pass, I will always talk about food)
4.What you did on the weekend (Hate this one, if I told people what really transpired on my weekends they would be appalled and I'm also a terrible liar, so I make up something really tame and base, like "Saw a baseball game, that was cool. Go Mets!" What I don't mention is that we got so drunk we did drugs then fell down the bleachers and/or went skinnydipping after and had all of our clothes stolen. But I usually end up saying something weird anyways, avoidance of eye contact and forced laughter ensues.)

What I'm getting at here, is that now instead of happily ignoring dude like I have been for the past two years, I can look forward to many more awkward convos in confined spaces like the one we had today. Did I mention that I also have a battle wound from Sunday night (a small cut on my upper lip, acquired in the Valentines spirit) that now just looks like I have the herps? Yep.

I recently broke up with the last friend I met in my elevator, so maybe this is just the universe's way of resetting the balance. Or letting me know that it's high time for some of this:

Thursday, February 11, 2010

Healthy Releases

Wow, what a terrible mood I have been in all day. I feel like reality decided to give me a wedgie and steal my lunch money. Instead of punching people/things in the face like I feel like doing, I am going to simply follow my three step regimen below, to manage my anger until my faith that people aren't all terrible is restored.

1. Get super drunk! This is my default setting, but not one I would recommend to most people. For instance, if you are an angry drunk, it will only lead to rants and hate-humping. And don't get me wrong, I love me a good hate-pork every now and then, but this is best saved for hot assholes, ex-boifs, and investment bankers, not guys you wake up next to and get thrown into an immediate shame spiral while hunting for your underdrawers in his Star Wars sheets. You best get out that nerd den quick, my friend, you just hate-porked yourself.

2. Get blazed. You will have much more important things to mentally grapple with, such as why cats be so cray cray?? When you're stoned, how weird cats already are is amplified by a hundred. I can never tell if a cat hates my guts or not, it will be all leave me alone giant, then come purr up in my face until I get sick of it and throw it on a chair or somewhere. Then I start to think about how funny it is that you can just "throw" cats, you can't do that shit with a dog, the dog would wig out and act wounded and might legitimately get hurt, but a cat will land on its feet, give you an uptight stink eye then forget two seconds later and meow on your leg looking for pets and kitty chow. Ahh, cats. What was this post about?

3. Jam the fuck out. Play whatever the fuck your little heart desires, as loud as you like and fear judgment from NO ONE. Personally, I like to revisit classics from my angsty teenage days; Weezer, Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Romeo & Juliet Soundtrack (don't hate, you know you owned that shit too) then some Ramones to get good and amped and jump around a bunch. This is best done after spending some quality time visiting steps one & two, bee tee dubs.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010


I work at a company with lots of interns, most of whom are babes (the lady variety). I'm usually not opposed to young, hot chicks but I've gotten chubs this winter. Couple that with the fact that I work 50+ hours a week but am still broke and spend what little money I have on drugs, booze and fancy hamburgers, well, these young hot chicks can go fuck themselves is what I'm getting at. I'm not trying to bone every one of my guy colleagues, but that doesn't mean I feel like watching them all drool over some 20-year old who weighs less than my beer gut and who I'm sure has more money than me in her trust fund.

But I digress. This blog was not meant to vent, it was to talk about the new hot dude intern we have in the office! Finally! Usually the guys we get to intern are pre-pubescent skater kids. Someone I would've boned when I was 15 but draw the line at as I approach 28.

Not this kid though! He's hot in the dirty, long-haired, Native-American-sweater-wearin' kind of way. Last night we had a work thing at a bar and I talked with him for a while. I don't know if he was nervous or what (on account of what a powerful woman I am) but the kid was rattling on about the most boring shit. I kept telling my brain to shut up and just stare at his lips or his long locks, but no dice. I finally couldn't deal and had to excuse myself.

My buddies were apparently watching this all go down and instantly gave me shit. Then I was regaled with stories about intern rendezvous and getting busted by the higher ups for that sort of behavior. Basically I was shot down before it even began.

I had a point, and it's this: I think I've got a thing for young Native Americans, like that kid from Northern Exposure.

Tuesday, February 9, 2010


God bless Andrea, for sending me things like "Pajamagrams" to brighten up my Tuesday afternoon. I was mulling over which style to order for Shanon and myself for Xmas next year and was feeling the "Stewart Plaid Collection."

Then I spotted the "chat with live gift counselor" tab. Yes please! (Click to make bigger)

Chamber of Secrets

The other morning, I woke up and decided to take advantage of my lack of hangover and get a little "exercise," but then I realized I had no idea where my pilates dvd was. I looked all over the place and finally found it stashed in my closet, where I then remembered hiding it before having people over for my birthday. Now, Shanon and I are pretty upfront about our "quirks" and she did bring her pilates tape on our road trip and stood up to my Dad's mockery and normally I could care less what people think, but since it was my special day, I was in no mood to be ridiculed about my buns o' steel or lack thereof.

But it did make me think of other things I try and keep on the DL from dudes I've yet to boff. I'm not talking the six empty booze bottles that didn't make it to the recycle bin and the seventies porn my friend Alex mailed me for my birthday and now kicks it on my coffee table, but more like things that might bring the booty train to a screeching halt if spotted by the menzfolk.

- Self-help/Terrible chick-lit Books. My friend told me how he stayed over this chicks house for the first time and her bedside reading was "Frozen Pancakes and Fake Lashes: One imperfect woman's quest for peace, balance ... and maternal mojo" or something, which is a serious boner-assassin book title that no girl who doesn't want a dude to take off running should keep next to their bed. Same goes for any weird diet books or books that end in "aholic" or anything by that annoying fat chick who wrote "In Her Shoes."

- Tampons. Yeah, that time of the month happens for most chicks I guess, but what dude wants to be reminded that once a month they're not getting laid and their lady will be a nutty hormonal bitch. Plus periods are gross.

- Serious prescription meds (not recreational/awesome ones). Many moons ago, I used to have a slight problem with Xanax, being that I enjoyed eating it every day and acquired a prescription after boo-hooing to my doc about life, who then asked if I wanted to try Zoloft too! Since I was not depressed in the slightest, I obviously said yes. Good thing my boif at the time was way crayer than me and paid no mind, but a good rule of thumb for the ladies would be to stash them nutter pills right because everyone knows the first rule of crazy is to hide that shit good.

- Pictures of babies that are not your own. Sure, babies are...cute? I don't really need a bunch of pictures of someone else's happy accident cluttering up my spot and I know we all got biological clocks a-tickin, but set that shit to vibrate, homegirl.

- Dolls. If multiple sets of lifeless, glassy eyes doesn't give a dude whiskeydick, I am at a loss for what will.

Monday, February 8, 2010

Scary Monsters - A Boning Breakdown

Jenny and I love to blog about monsters but they're just so fascinating, no? Here goes another musing on monsters - the order in which I would bone down with them.

1. Vampires. Duh squared. Vampires are hot these days, but I would still only bone Gary Oldman dracula (when he's hot, not when he's all Mr. Burns giant head).

2. Werewolves. This is ok, see, because they're only gnarly 12 nights out of the year. Plus they're usually burly and hairy the rest of the time. Manly men, in other words. Non of these skinny jeans, wears fancier shoes than I do type dudes. I like to think of the Polish Super in my office building as being what a werewolf looks like when he's not "changed."

3. Mermen. Heh row.

4. Frankenstein. He just wants to be loved, no?

5. Centaurs. They're so sexy and angry! But on second thought, I don't think I could get down with that. Maybe if I was drugged up on some kind of magical potion that made me forgot I was technically boning a horse. Wait I totally just grossed myself out.

6. Minotaurs. This animal / man combo is more to my liking but still freaky deaky. Hot body with the head of a bull? This is like a sexual fantasy rape dream. Have I gone too far?

7. Yeti (aka Abominable Snowman, aka Bigfoot). I'm on the fence about this one. That's all I have to say about it.

8. Leprechauns. I like short dudes but NO WAY. This would be akin to boning that doll Chucky.

9. Zombies. Hell nah girlfriend, he gonna eat you!

10. Mummies. I like the fact that they can't talk, but I'm gonna say no due to the rotting flesh.

Sunday, February 7, 2010

Work Travels

Let me fill you all in real quick on where I've been all week. Hell, that's where.

I flew out to LA on Tuesday with my coworker. We hung out with my buddy Emily, ate some fancy sausages, got wasted, ate some late-night truck tacos, then passed out. It was pretty rad. The next morning my coworker and I got up super early and drove down to San Diego for the action sports trade show bla bla boringness. Not so rad. Have you even been to an industry tradeshow? They're full of "bros" (not the good kind) and models wearing nasty shit. I went to the bathroom at one point and thought I had walked into a porno convention. Fake boobies everywhere. The only thing worth mentioning about this particular tradeshow is all the hot dudes. SO MANY. I couldn't think straight, my mind was on babe overload.

Anyway that night we had an event and I got fuuuucked up. Not as bad as my boss though. Have you ever had to text your boss, "Keep it together! Go to bed!!" No? Well now I can cross that off my list of things to do before I die.

Three hours after I got back to the hotel I had to get up and go to the airport ...for a meeting in Chicago. I have now experienced my own personal hell, and it's giving a presentation to 12 people in suits after getting 3 hours of sleep and flying halfway across the country. And did I mention it was with my boss who was so hurt up he told me after that he thought he was going to hurl in the middle of the meeting? Oh and I still had a black eye.

Is it any wonder I am currently in my pajamas watching Masterpiece Theatre instead of the Super Bowl? Last week was brutal. I did watch the Puppy Bowl, however. That shit is my jam.

Boner of the Day

I've been m.i.a. all week because I was traveling for work. Jenny attempted to hold the boner of the day fort down but clearly doesn't understand the concept as she neglected to put up a single pic of a hot dude. I am officially taking this bitch back and told her she wasn't allowed to put these up no mo'.

So here I am, Shanon, back in action. Today's boner of the day are actually some dudes that I know but whatever. The Heit brothers from Orange County own and operate Raen Optics. They're my partners in crime during the fashion / action sports trade shows, and they're pretty fucking easy on the eyes. (Justin Heit's sitting in the middle there and his brother Jeremy's sitting down on the left).

Friday, February 5, 2010

Irish Goodbyes

We've all been guilty of this before, right. Sometimes saying goodbyes to everrrrryone at the bar/party/stripclub feels like a whole lot of work and hassle, so you just dip out and go home to eat drunken shame snacks in your underpants, as I did last Saturday night. Not everyone is qualified to pull this move off though and it is pretty much guaranteed to P.O. your friends, so here are some helpful pointers:

- Be really good at being drunk. My drunk autopilot sometimes even amazes myself. Only my very besties can tell when I'm secretly black out drunk and I even fool them sometimes. You have to be able to take care of yourself, get into a cab and make it home alone, with all of your shoes and teeth intact, thus proving to your friends that all those angry where are you texts and calls are not needed.

- Don't try and make an excuse, like you were just too drunk or you need to make a drug or skrilla run.  One time, Gandy told told us he was going to the ATM then when we left about 15 minutes later, our cab drove past a McDonald's a few blocks down the street and guess who was in the front window, making sweet love to a Fillet-O-Fish. That was just too priceless for us to stay mad at him, but generally the only acceptable excuse for bouncing is a bootycall and thats's only if you're single and therefore not getting sexed on the regs. Any other excuses made before splitting means your friends will begin to not even let you go to the bathroom unattended, for fear you will Houdini them.

- Practice, practice, practice.  If you do it enough, people will eventually come to expect it from you, as we now do with Gandy, who is so notorious for the Irish Goodbye that I am shocked if I get a proper farewell hug/ass slap.

Thursday, February 4, 2010

Boner of the Day

Apple store employees. I have been championing the rise of the sexy nerd for sometime now, and this whole movement seemed to come to a head when I visited the Apple store the other day. I walked in and was met with three iBoners, if you will, a chick and two dudes. My instinct was to go for the men since we all know women can't even program electronic devices, let alone fix them (kidding, some of us can totes do "math" I'm sure) but I ended up getting paired with such a fox that I think I heard that "Aoooga" noise that cartoons make when they pitch tents. He had tattoo sleeves and hot-for-teacher glasses and I could barely explain what was wrong with my iPhone, since I was too busy daydreaming about riding sidecar on his Bonercycle and double-dog-daring him to fix my phone shirtless. And then when I went back to get the actual repair done, the chick who helped me turned out to be a nerdy piece of eye candy herself!

To this I say well played, Apple, the persons you choose to employ more than make up for that bonerkiller you call an "iPad" and next Christmas, my letter to Santa* will be very politely asking them to install a bar at each location, financed by the business I will be giving you since my iPod/phone/mac can't seem to stop malfunctioning for reasons unrelated to me breaking it.
*Steve Jobs

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Craziest Dressers

When I get dressed in the morning before work, sometimes I will put on the craziest shit, thinking it looks fine, only to realize later in the day that I look like I got gang-banged by a fleet of Salvation Army trucks or angry dykes. Yesterday, unfortunately, was the latter. I won't go into specifics about my outfit, but let's just say it involved Timberlands and multiple pieces of denim. Wasn't really a big deal, since I like to keep everyone's expectations for me low, but then a big client showed up unexpectedly and wanted to take me out for a belated birthday dinner. Woops. So I was slightly ashamed, and vowed to start dressing somewhat nicer (exempting hungover days or opposite sex sleepover days, you ever try to take a shower and make a presentable work outfit from a straight dude's closet? I'd rather run a three legged race with a midget). It wasn't until I was on the train headed home that I realized, there are a bunch of other groups of people in this town who dress a million percent worse than me:

1. Japanese Chicks. If you have ever flipped through that book "Fruits" you are feeling me right now. This chick got on the train yesterday wearing what appeared to be a pink muumuu halfshirt, over pants that the genie from "Aladdin" granted wishes in, paired with wooly socks and Birkenstocks, plus a feathery hat. Of course I had to go stand next to her, to make my outfit seem comparatively un-crazy and hetero. They should really be available to rent by the hour, on days like today when I feel like calling for backup. But yeah, they take the dressing crazy cake, which I blame Yoko Ono for. Cause why not.

2. Young Gay Black Dudes. Not to be confused with young male straight black guys (who are just really, really into matching) these dudes can pull off almost anything, from neon mohawks to fedoras and spats and I hold them personally accountable for the term "fierce."

3. Goth Kids/Young Twentysomething White Chicks. These are separate, but equal, since both groups annoy the tits offa me. Even though Goth kids wear guyliner and are usually unattractive/chubby, they are more likely to brood and hate you silently and from afar, as opposed to an annoying twenty year old chick who is still finding herself, so for no reason will decide to wear a turban or dress like a slutty tennis player from the eighties in heels, while spilling her drink on your shoes*. She will probably have sex with you though, so grab that silver lining and run with it.
*Not that I speak from experience or anything.

4. Little Kids.  Technically the parent's fault, but little kids dressing themselves is amazing. I can't even believe my parents let me out of the house in some of the outfits I would put together in elementary school. You feel like wearing your Dad's Indiana Jones hat with suspenders and unmatched neon socks with leopard print high top Converse today? Go right ahead! Pretty sure I even have a fourth grade class picture where I decided to button my shirt backwards to be like Kriss Kross.

5. Old Ladies. I was at the bodega the other day and this crazy old broad in front of me was in line, buying about eight bags of 25 cent chips in different varieties and six boxes of Cup-O-Noodles and talking to herself. After I marveled how similar our dinner selections were (!), I took note of her crazy outfit and decided I can't wait to be old. The best way to describe old ladies style is everything. They just wear everything. And get away with it! Hmm, what happened to that summer frock I bought back in 1948? I think I will break out that old ruby today, to go along with my mink coat, pajama pants, and monocle. This is the type of conversation I imagine they have with themselves before getting dressed each morning. Seriously, can't wait.

Boner of the Day

LOST! Tonight is the season premiere of the final season of Lost and unlike Shanon, I don't dork out about many things, but this show is my nerdy kryptonite.

I will be sad to see this one go, not just because every episode has enough material for the spank bank to last a decade, but mainly because I am gonna miss watching it with my fellow nerddites. The trouble with Lost watching parties, is that we always somehow manage to get far too drunk, be it off of airplane bottles of booze (doing a shot every time someone said Jack's name is the reason Shanon is minus one front tooth) or just plain Dharma beer and end up yelling at the TV for someone to get shirtless (except for Hurley, never Hurley) and by the end of the episode I have no idea what's going on. Then the next day when Gandy or someone chats me, I have to act like I too was blown away by the episode that I am too ashamed to admit I don't remember anything about except that maybe I'm a little gay for Kate and so I have to watch it at my desk while hungover and pretending to work.

The funny part about Lost being the B.O.D., is that this show has actually prevented me from getting laid on more than one occassion. When I first started watching it with my boif at the time, neither of us had any idea that this program is slightly more addictive than crack, only without the sexy side effects of the jilla. Seriously, eight hours straight in bed, zero boning. And I wouldn't trade it for all the cage sex in the world.

Monday, February 1, 2010

Video of the Day

The video for Lemonade's newest single "Lifted" is pretty dope.

Boner of the Day

Rip Torn! So I totally take back the below post about being grown up and getting my shit together. Dude is 287, a famous actor, and still got busted trying to rob a bank while wasted. I'm all sorts of impressed right now.

Getting It Together

I'll be 28 in less than a month and I need to make some changes. Here's a short list:

1. Eat proper dinners. Last Friday I ate Doritos for dinner then proceeded to get wasted and smash my face. To be fair it was frigid out and my hands were in my pockets, thus rendering my drunken body completely venerable to pavement. I have a black eye but a mouth full of intact teeth. Silver lining! Anyway, dinner is extremely important.

2. Stop reading Chris Nieratko. One sure fire way to never get my shit together is to continue reading Vice contributor, Big Brother editor, and all around insane horny asshole, Chris Nieratko. I need to grow up and re read Harry Potter or at the very least a 600-page analysis of the battle of Stalingrad.

3. Listen to Beyonce more. This is just common sense. Beyonce is the epitomy of class. See below for photos of what Shannie is the epitomy of.

4. No more eating cookies for breakfast. For realsies today is the very last day I eat a cookie for breakfast. Even if they are free. It's all about self-control.

5. Get some extra-curricular activities. At the very least I need to start taking a pickling class so that my after-work activities include more than use of recreational drugs and watching Keeping Up With The Kardashians.

6. Immediately start making a shit ton of money.

(Since the taking of this photo my eye has turned black.)