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Boob jobs! Titty is a fun word to say.

When I was around 13 years old I remember looking in the mirror at my chestal region and thinking, ‘these are gonna be awesome in a few years when they’re bigger!’  A few years later with nothing, and then a few years after that with more nothing, I finally came to the conclusion that my boobs finished baking long ago.

Right around this age.

Right around this age.

The tiny two was all I was ever going to have.  I tried to fight nature.  I massaged them to death, I asked my doctor to give me the highest hormone birth control possible hoping that would trick them into growing, I took some sort of voodoo magic horse pills claiming to increase cup size but in actuality just made you burp up herbs for hours.  These little suckers remained staunchly themselves.  They were not budging.  I hated it.  I wore padded bras (still do.  sorry bros) and it took me until my early 20s to even dream of taking my shirt off if I was letting a guy do some things to my things.  (sexiest sex euphemism ever!)

Eventually I seemingly made peace with their size and resigned myself to a lifetime of not being able to fill out a bathing suit.  The idea of a boob job entered my mind occasionally, but I didn’t think of it as a serious option for a couple reasons: 1. If my body didn’t react well to the surgery and I got sick or something, I’d have put myself through suffering for fucking tits.  2. If implants made it harder to detect breast cancer, I’d have also just done that to myself.   Plus, hi, expensive.

But recently, the thought of actually doing it kept popping up in my head and I figured I had nothing to lose by at least going for a couple consultations.  In most offices, they’re free, so why not?  Several months ago, I went through with it.  Because when in LA you do as the LA bitches do and you consider slicing up your shit with a scalpel.

Here is what happened. (more…)

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9 Valentine’s Day Ideas For Single People (One Involves Monkeys)

vdayJust because you are a single unicorn running wild this Valentine’s Day, you don’t have to be sad that you have no one to feed you chocolate strawberries and shove flowers in your face.  Those things die anyways, just like the love between a couple that has grown to hate each other.   No, there are other things you can do to get through this day without murdering anything, and I’m here, as your resident single & luvin’ it buddy, to share them with you.

1. Get a monkey.  With a monkey destroying your apartment and flinging shit at your walls, you won’t have any time to experience sadness or regret or desperation or any of the other pesky emotions this day can bring up.

2. Buy every flavor of Ben & Jerry’s and rate each one on this scientific scale I have created for you. As the cliche goes, the single and lonely person drowns their feelings in a pint of B’s & J’s.  It’s tired.  Let’s make this a science experiment rather than an exercise in despair.  Clean out the freezer case at Ralph’s/Price Chopper with one of each flavor.  Ignore the sad eyes the grocer is giving you at the checkout.  You are fine!   You might not be spooning a person today, but you are going to be spooning the fuck outta (more…)

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10 More Things Women Wish Men Knew About Sex

 

The first time I wrote one of these, I spent a lot of time cringing before hitting the publish button.  So I thought to myself, let’s do it all over again!

1.  It’s a nice thought, but the act of sex itself does not need to go on for an hour.  Trust me, this is not the type of making her “not be able to walk straight” sore that you want to aim for.  A better idea: breaking up activity into smaller chunks with breaks in between.  Then you can call it a marathon and wow, don’t you sound like the man now?

2.  Stop trying to recreate the insanity you are seeing in porn.  Porn is shot to (more…)

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10 Things That Made Me Realize I’m Becoming A Crotchety Old Hag

Are you aging too?  Wow, how weird!  The whole life process, man.  They said it would happen, and would you look at that.  It totally is.

1.  I get viscerally angry over slang.

The phrase “turn(t) up” makes me so mad you might as well have just slapped my mother. Oh my sweet god do I hate it.  I mean, I get it.  You’re saying let’s turn it up a notch, basically.  Like, let’s party.  Let’s crumple up our cares and shoot them out of a rocket launcher and dance naked in the moonlight.  I got it.  I’m okay with the sentiment, but say those words again and I’ll punch you in the tit.

I feel the same way about “about that life.”  Do you even know what you’re saying?  “Pizza.  Yeah, I’m about that life.”  What life?  You’re about pizza life?  If anyone is about pizza life it’s me, and I would never say I’m about pizza life.

2.  I am slowly getting too out of touch for certain technologies.

I’m talking about Snapchat here.  Apparently youngsters these days are dumping Facebook in favor of things like Snapchat  I knew Facebook’s days were numbered when (more…)

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15 Things Women Wish Men Knew – Sex Edition

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1.  Hey, maybe don’t bite my nipple off.

2.  Lol dirty talk lol.  Some of you can do it well, many of you can only do it hilariously.  Know what your talents are…and aren’t.

3.  You do realize vaginas are sensitive, right?  Maybe you like your dick smacked around, but most of us do not appreciate that treatment on our lady parts.  You should never approach a vagina like you’re about to (more…)

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I Noticed You Stopped Asking Why I’m Single, So Now I’ll Tell You

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You know what’s worse than people constantly asking you whether you’re dating and why you’re still single?  When they stop asking.  When they’re so tired of being inundated with “no” “nope” “not even a little bit” and “are you fucking kidding me?”‘s that they just throw you into the forever alone box and leave it at that.  Who wants to constantly (more…)

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I SUCK AND OH GOD WHAT AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE! A Case For Calming Your Shit

If you’re anything like me, you constantly look at the people around you, measure yourself against their seeming successes, take a look back at yourself, mentally kick yourself in the ass for being behind/a failure/not knowing what the hell you’re doing, eat a gallon of ice cream and cry while listening to your Sia, Drake and Enya mixtape (those are still a thing, right?) as you stare at yourself sobbing in the mirror surrounded by tissues and wine and a confused looking dog. Um. Something like that completely imagined scenario. Haha, LEFT FIELD COMING IN FOR A LANDING! Amirite?

I’ve never felt good enough for much of anything. Sometimes it’s crippling enough that I choose inaction as the only action. If I do something, I’m just going to suck at it! And people will judge me. With their eyes. And words. And no thanks.

Why does anybody do this to themselves? I guess (more…)

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Skip The Ball Deodorant: 21 Things Women Wish Men Knew

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I originally wrote most of this for Made Woman.  Posted here in no particular order and with a more lewd makeover, as is my way.

  1. If your idea of a romantic first date is at your local Red Lobster, we’re judging you for it.  No, we don’t need a fancy 5 star $200 meal.  But put a LITTLE creativity and effort into your restaurant of choice.  With Yelp in existence, there’s no excuse for such blatant laziness.
  2. If you are lucky enough to get us into bed, please be advised that any mishaps you make are going to be reported to any female friend (and possibly some male friends) who will listen.  Know this: We’re worse than you are.
  3. Unfortunately for you, if you’re awesome we probably won’t share any details.  You kidding?  We’re keeping that shit all to ourselves.
  4. Women love great listeners, indeed it’s true.  But if you sit there saying nothing, we’re going to be tempted to check for a pulse.  That strong silent type thing doesn’t work for everyone.
  5. At the same time, you should not be talking over us.  If you’re cutting us off to tell your own stories and gossip like a schoolgirl, you’ve just become our girlfriend.  Congratulations.
  6. If you refuse to go downtown, you sure as hell better not expect us to.  Also: get ready to (more…)
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SXSW: A Tale of Strippers, Wet Socks, YouTube Stars and Crying Livers

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I had no idea SXSW was anything more than a music festival until a few weeks ago when my coworker told me she was going for the “interactive” portion – on our company’s dime.  Say whaaaat?  As it turns out, SXSW is for music, movies, comedy and the interactive part covers digital technology (think mobile, internet, robots from the future sent to perform basic human functions for us because we are all lazy pieces of shit, etc).  So I got permission from my boss and my trip to Austin, TX was booked, y’all.

The first thing I discovered preparing for this trip was that I had absolutely no idea what I had gotten myself into.  I’m talking approximately 5 trillion sessions going on at the same time, all day long, in various locations around downtown Austin.  Do I want to see Nev Schulman from Catfish leading a panel on love and identity in the digital age, or do I want to see a panel on the role of comedy in technology?  Do I want to see a session on the future of social media in television or do I want to skip all of it and go to one of the 5000 sponsored parties at bars all over town with free alcohol and food?  (Um, duh.)  I was pretty nervous heading into this thing because I hate the unexpected and knowing that I have to network with people makes me break into mental hives.

Having booked on the late side, hotels were hard to come by, so my coworker and I went through AirBNB to find an apartment to rent out.  The fact that we had stumbled into a clusterfuck of a situation was evident pretty quickly after (more…)

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Rain=END OF THE WORLD & Other Things I Learned Living In Los Angeles

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I moved to LA for a lot of reasons. Let’s get right to it, okay? I was on-and-off dating a guy who moved out here, and when I made the announcement that I was also moving out here, pretty much everyone I knew was convinced that I was a desperate pitiful lunatic following his ass – an ass that didn’t even really want me – across the country. Yes folks, my “friends” were SO confident in me that they were taking bets on how long I’d last out here after he cheated on me/kicked me to the curb.  Almost six years later and I’m still here so to them I say: EAT MY ASS, YOU JOYLESS PRICKS.

But were they right? Kind of.  I had wanted to move out of my hometown, Albany, since before I graduated college, but I had no one to do it with me and I was too much of a vagina to do anything about it on my own. I met this dude and fell for him, watched him make the move, visited him a few times, watched my cousin also make the move, and somewhere along the way I decided to do it myself.  Basically, meeting this guy gave me the lady-balls I needed to change my own life.

When I came out here, I thought I had LA mostly figured out.  (more…)