JUST KIDDING, DUMMIES, I HAVE A DATE THIS YEAR!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAAHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHDHAHDAUIHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHHAHAHAHHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!@@!!!!!!!!!!!
Normally, I am not impressed by viral Youtube proposal videos. It just seems a little narcissistic to me. Yes, the proposer has put time and effort into making this grand gesture, but is it all about creating a romantic experience for your partner or about making it to the homepage of Buzzfeed?
I don’t know how I want to be proposed to, but I do know it would not involve the following:
- Engagement rings tied to dog collars.
- Howie Mandel pranking me.
- Singing of any kind.
- Anything pertaining to high altitude including, but not limited to: hot air balloons, sky writing, or Denver.
- Sporting events, with the exception of Michael Vartan proposing on a pitcher’s mound at a high school baseball playoff game.
- Rings hidden in food or beverages.
- Any sort of public place that puts us at risk of being applauded.
I’m a simple girl who would be happy with just a sweeping declaration of how amazing I am, set in a whimsical location probably equipped with some sort of outdoor lighting, ie: twinkle lights, lanterns, etc. The scene where Freddie Prinze Jr. professes his love for Rachel Leah Cook by the pool in She’s All That comes to mind. (A Never Been Kissed and a She’s All That reference in one post?! Someone call Alicia Keys because this girl is on fire!!!)
With all that said, this Peter Pan proposal video is the weirdest, most entertaining thing I’ve seen in the last 7 hours which means a lot because I spend Monday through Friday looking at all of the internet until nothing is left. Watch it and then see if you agree with my highlights:
- Giant dog pulling focus.
- Is this a steampunk rendition of Peter Pan where they sing “You Raise Me Up” at curtain call?
- If this is how loud Jane cries when she’s being proposed to, how loud will she cry when her youngest child leaves home for good or when she watches her elderly mother descend into senility?
Ah, love! Ain’t it grand?
A few weeks ago I mentioned that I was starting a podcast, and now the first episode is ready for your ears!
In our pilot we drink Babble wine and whine about online dating.When the wine’s finished so is the podcast!
Here’s what people are saying about it:
“Cute!” – our moms
“Longer than Schindler’s List.” – Producer Dave
“Please listen because making a podcast is more difficult than you’d think it’d be.” – Me
Follow us on twitter!
and theme song by Kathryn Gallagher @KathrynG
Click here to listen!
For some back story, I’ve been hanging out with this guy – we have gotten pretty close on a friendship level. I never really saw any potential until a few of my friends told me he totally adored me. This of course warps all normal thought processes and makes me think that maybe there is a love connection. Since normally my “douchebag radar” is always on and I love a good chase, I figured maybe for once I should listen to my friends and go for the nice guy. Finally, growing the balls (sorry to be so crude), I put on my best mascara and lip gloss and was ready to tell him how I felt. It was a warm summer night and the rain was falling on my recently lotioned legs while sitting on the stoop of his house … and I totally got rejected. I apparently wasn’t what he what he was looking for, which is odd because I’m a catch. Being this the first time to totally be smacked in the face in quite some time, and especially after putting myself out there when it’s something I never do, I would like to know how to move on and make the best of a sour situation.
- xoxo Disillusioned in DC
First, Disillusioned, may I congratulate you on your moxie. It’s very brave to put yourself out there like that, and as a person who never displays any sort of emotion besides sassy or drunk, I have a lot of respect for you. Not everyone can be vulnerable like that. I mean, I’m so emotionally inept that one day at my wedding, my vows to my husband will probably just be, “you’re cool, I guess, let’s binge watch Netflix originals together for the rest of our lives, but if you’re not into that it’s fine.”
Now, to answer your question, I’ll give you some advice an acting teacher once gave to my class. I think this is some good insight, but in the spirit of full disclosure, this teacher was a Manic Pixie Dream Girl who, like, went on 10 day silent yoga retreats, and we all had inappropriate feelings for her, so it’s possible I was drinking her Kool-Aid. But I don’t think so. Anyway, she told us about some guy drama she had when she first started performing at this improv theatre, and someone told her to just “put her head down and do the work.” In your situation I think that translates to you should just focus on your career and your hobbies and the things that are important to you, independent from men. You know you’re a catch so telling you that this guy’s a jerk won’t make you feel any better. Going out and meeting new boys can help, but in my experience it just bums me out more because I remember how much I hate small-talking dude-bros at bars. So, yeah, immerse yourself in things that lift your self-esteem, and you’ll develop that inner glow that only pregnant women and happy people have. Because in the wise words of RuPaul, “if you can’t love yourself, how the hell you gon’ love somebody else?” And also, “cut your fake eyelashes into 3 strips so they’re easier to apply.”
Recently, I’ve realized that Facebook is passing some major judgement on my lifestyle, as all the ads they post for me now involve cleaning supplies and services, rehab facilities, and general websites involving where and how to find a boyfriend. I knew that Mark Zuckerberg had a feminine face, but I didn’t know he was my mother– amiright, ladies? HA-CHA-CHA-CHA! (I’m working day and night on my Catskill/1980′s female comedian hybrid character, so I don’t even have TIME to date).
The other day Facebook suggested this little gem, and in the process, insulted my intelligence:
HeTexted.com has 3 components: A blog, a forum where you can ask for boy advice and people can respond and vote whether he’s “into you” or not (democracy hard at work!), and “ask a bro.”
Besides invading Iraq looking for WMD’s, I literally can’t think of a more terrible idea than this website (guys, how smart did I just sound?). Women and girls don’t need a forum to over-analyze men together from across the globe.
I understand that sometimes you need advice from your friends. I ask for it a lot and I love to sit down with a gal pal and draw out a venn diagram or a pro’s and con’s list over some Sauv Blaahhhh to decide if we should break up with her boyfriend. However, as I get older I have begun to realize that just because they’re your friends, doesn’t mean they give sound advice. If I have trouble figuring out if my friends can be trusted with my romantic problems, how can I be assured that these faceless, internet dum-dums know what they’re talking about?
Just judging by their blog, it doesn’t seem like you should trust this website.
First sentence out of the gate: “Let’s talk girl crushes.”
No. Don’t. I can’t stand this phrase. Just say what you actually mean– you think this woman is cool and pretty and you would like to be friends with her. You don’t have to add a “no-homo” stamp of clarification. Nobody thinks you plan to go Orange-is-the-New-Black on her lady bits. Unless you do, in which case it’s just a crush.
Already I don’t feel good about these people. Next post:
NOPE! NOOOOPE! A bad Sex and the City reference (“Single and the City” is arguably redundant) coupled with a New Girl picture? These are a bunch of 22 year-old girls with brand new journalism degrees, sitting around Starbucks in their H&M blazers, blogging and taking selfies hashtagged #riseandgrind. I’m sure they could tell you how to highlight your eyes like Kim Kardashian (hint: it involves NARS blush in Albatross), but putting your love life in their young, stupid hands is not advisable.
And do women really need advice on guys? Deep down, don’t you already know what’s up? Like this girl:
This is just depressing. Is asking the audience really necessary here? And they’re all like this. A lot of the questions seem to be from teenagers, but just as many are definitely from women who are at least in their 20′s. There are just so many things that your time would be better spent on than sitting at a computer obsessing over guys. If you find yourself obsessing, you can do what I do to get my mind off of it: listen to a podcast or meditate or drink a bottle of wine and sing through the Buffy the Vampire Slayer musical episode after your apartment’s quiet hours, aka just doing me.
Finally, finally, ladies and gaybies, someone has submitted an advice question for the blog.
Let’s change some lives, shall we?
What do women in their late 20s REALLY want in a man? Be brutally honest.
-Auspicious in Austin
Well, Auspicious in Austin (AA), I’d like to start by saying thank you for the kicky use of alliteration in your sign-off. We can all agree that it adds a certain whimsy to this whole experience.
Now, what do women in their late 20′s really want? Maybe I’m not fully equipped to answer this because I won’t be a woman in my late 20′s for another 2 and half months, but lucky for you, one of my great talents is speaking confidently about subjects I know nothing about.
So, this is kind of a broad question. Do you mean this in the context of what do women want so you can entice them and get their phone numbers? In this case of first impressions/surface attraction, it’s all very subjective, but I suppose my best advice is be attractive or funny. If you posess neither of those attributes, then I guess just be patient because if Yoran Van der Sloot can find a girlfriend, then that’s solid proof of there being a pot for every lid.
If your problem is that you can’t keep a woman after a date or two, then I can think of at least a few things that women are looking for:
- I get that you’re 33 and this might seem obvious, but do you have a bed frame or is your mattress on the floor? I thought this was basic, but I’m learning more and more that it isn’t. If this does describe your living situation, then just hit up Ikea and make the investment and I promise you’ll have a girlfriend by next week. I just had to double check.
- Are you still asking women to “hang out”? Have you ever heard Don Draper ask a woman to hang out? Absolutely not. You are a man now, ask a woman if you can take her out for a drink or something. And call her the first time, you idiot. These things aren’t deal breakers to women, but if you do take this advice I promise she will notice so much as to tell her friends about it.
- What’s your teeth situation? One time, this guy who looked like Channing Tatum asked me out, but he had a missing tooth, and that was a deal breaker. He was also a janitor. No offense to janitors. Anyway, make sure you have nice teeth. Don’t be coy with a Crest White Strip.
- Do what you say you’re going to do. I promise that a woman will be way more impressed if you call her to make plans when you say you will. Also, don’t wait a really long time to call and make plans between dates. Wait, you’re 33, you must have seen either a movie or TV show featuring two women talking to each other. This is, like, the only thing they discuss, so you should know we want this by now.
- Be transparent and upfront. Just say what you’re looking for- whether you want a relationship, whether you like her, etc. The worst part about dating is not knowing what the other person is about. I mean, a woman and her roommate can analyze a text message down to whether you used one “k” or two (“kk”) in a text (they mean completely different things in the context of dating!!!) so just don’t make her guess because I’ve probably created a really long narrative about what you’re doing and thinking from that alone. She’s. She’s probably created a really long narrative.
- Speaking from experience, when on a date don’t brag about doing illicit drugs with a (blind item) recently deceased addict known for singing and dancing on a Fox television show. Listening to your stories about doing “mountains of coke” in Vegas is, decidely, not what women want. Does this not apply to everyone?
- Be nice? I guess that’s what people want, but I think women fall under the “human” category.
So, this was helpful to no one. Bummer for you, AA. Good luck!
If you want some advice, head over to the “Submit a Question” page at the top of the blog and I can be of no use to you as well!
I have begun to realize that if I’m left alone long enough with a bottle of Rite Aid’s finest $3 cabernet, I get an overwhelming urge to join OKCupid. I don’t think that’s a sign of any kind of alcohol problem, but when I finally joined, it definitely felt like I was subletting a finished basement in rock bottom.
I had thought about joining since I moved to LA, but then a few weeks ago on a whim, (wine/whim. Synonyms, really) I actually did it. While I sat on the couch with my roommate, I devised an OKCupid profile:
Profile Question: “What are you most likely to be doing on Friday night?”
My Answer: “Drinking wine while I watch a Golden Girls marathon by myself.”
Profile Question: “You should contact me if….”
My Answer: “….you enjoy feminist rants because it’s kind of my thing.”
That last one is actually just a direct quote from New Girl. You might think I wasn’t taking the questions seriously, but if you know anything about me, you know that if I said literally anything else it would have been a lie.
After finishing my profile, I sat back as the predatory messages from uninhibited men hiding behind computers started rolling in!
The messages ran the gamut from either ignorant, creepy, or very creepy, but nearly every message I got included some sort of comment about the two questions above. Like:
“You’re a feminist? So, you want to castrate me?”
Yes. But just you, specifically.
“I don’t mind feminism as long as it’s not about bringing down men and isn’t in poor taste.”
Awwww. From the mouths’ of bros.
Of the 60 or so messages I got in the 48 hours before I deleted my profile, only two were from people I would consider dating. When I replied to one of those guys, I asked him his experience on OKC. He said the thing that bothered him the most was how many women wore some sort of fake mustache in their pictures. I was all, “uggh, totes, I feel you. My least favorite thing about guys on OKC is kinda like that, except instead of fake mustaches it’s the sexually suggestive comments about your looks that make you feel like an object to be used instead of an actual person, LOL!!”
I started to consider deleting my profile about 12 hours into creating it, but figured I’d keep an open mind and see if anyone good popped up. By hour 48, there was still no person of interest, BUT there was one guy who messaged me that would definitely be a person of interest to the police if I was murdered!
His message was simple and to the point.
“How many shoes do you own and do you like to cuddle?”
And with that, I deleted my profile.
I would not recommend OKCupid to single women unless you’re interested in the caliber of men that can’t afford Match.com.
If that is your thing, my advice would be to create a profile then discuss with your roommate or next of kin what photo you would like shown on the evening news after your inevitable disappearance. Tell them that anything from your Facebook profile picture album is pre-approved. If you’re just missing have them choose a photo that looks like you, yet still flattering. Something that really makes people want to find you. Now, if they’ve already discovered your charred remains and can only identify you by your dental records– go nuts!! Use the picture from the week after that lucky bout of food poisoning. Remember? Your hair was blonde and you still went tanning. It looks nothing like you now, but let that be the way the world remembers you. You deserve it.
Scooter really is his name. Maybe I should have made up an alias for him, but honestly, the name is like, 80% of the story.
So, the two of us were texting before our blind date, and naturally I dropped that I had a blog because, truth be told, this thing is a real dick magnet. Sorry, for the crude phrasing, but there is no better way to put it. This blog is the Greased Lightening of digital media.
Scooter asked if I was going to blog about him.
Although I was entering into this date with an open mind, I knew somewhere deep down the odds were that I would end up blogging about a blind date with a guy named Scooter.
And here we are.
I have no choice. You know who did have a choice? Scooter’s parents. They did not have to name their kid Scooter, practically forcing me to blog about him.
But like I told Scooter, I only blog about people if you give me something to blog about. Bless his heart, he thought I meant if we had a great date, but I set him straight and let him know that this was all in his hands. I only blog about a guy when he gives me 400+ words worth of material (See: 700 words on The Bicycle Thief). Unfortunately for Scooter, I’ve already passed 200 words and I haven’t even made it to the restaurant yet.
Scoots and I met at a restaurant in West Hollywood, where the waitresses’ uniforms looked like they were in a production of Newsies at Saint Agatha’s School for Wayward Girls. It was both adorable and uncomfortable.
To get the conversation rolling, I told Scootie-Toots that he looked like Peter from Homeland.
It was as if I just told him he looked like Mandy Patinkin.
“But it’s a compliment,” I told him. Maybe he thought I meant Mandy Patinkin? “He’s the young guy who works with Carrie on season 2.”
“No, I know who you’re talking about, I just don’t look like him. We’re just both the same age with dark hair. That would be like if I told you that you look like Emma Stone just because you’re both pale red heads.”
At this point, I’m a little miffed. Obviously, I look like Lindsay Lohan circa Herbie Fully Loaded.
“Right, but I don’t look like Emma Stone and you do look like the guy from Homeland.”
From there the conversation only went down hill. We moved on from him vaguely insulting my skin tone to him flat out pooping on the city where I basically grew up.
“So, where did you go to school?” Scoots-boots inquired.
“Emerson College in Boston.”
“Oh, I spent about 6 months there for a TV show I was producing… Terrible city.”
“You know that those Boston Marathon bombings occurred in Boston, right? Like, two days ago.”
“Ya, it doesn’t make it any less of hell hole.”
It should be noted that Scooter was saying all of this in a pin striped blazer. He was saying this in a pin striped blazer, and this whole time his name was SCOOTER.
Finally, the bill comes, and I made a VERY half-hearted courtesy reach for the check. He looks at it and says to me, “guess what our waitress’s name is.”
SCOOTER SCOOTER SCOOTER SCOOTER SCOOTER SCOOTER SCOOTER SCOOTER SCOOTER SCOOOOOOOOTERRRRRRR!!!!!
Victoria, if you are reading this, you were perfectly lovely, and those suspenders looked darling on you.
Scooter, if you are reading this, you can’t have that poor of an attitude AND be named Scooter.
Razor Scooter and I have not spoken since.
My friend, Gabi, has recently gotten me obsessed with the dating app, Tinder. The way it works is you sign in with Facebook, it shows a couple of your profile pics, and people can either “nope” you or “like” you. If you’re noped, it goes to the next person, if you’re liked and you like them back, it’s a match, and you can chat. Basically, you just judge people on whether you think they’re hot enough to potentially date. There’s also the option to see if you have mutual friends or Facebook interests and to write a small profile, but really it’s just about looks because the novelty of us both liking Happy Endings wears off pretty fast.
I don’t plan on messaging or meeting anyone because as it is, I think Match.com is a death trap. A free app where you don’t even post your full name and people only pick you based on your looks just sounds like a place where really kinky serial killers go to find red heads with blue eyes so they can torture them (me) for a week then put your (my) severed fingers in a deep fryer. Regardless, nexting people turns out to be a strangely therapeutic way to pass the time.
I’ve already developed a quick system on how I nope people:
We’ll start off really easy/sane with age: 23 and below get an automatic NOPE.
Guys wearing fedoras. I like to keep to that standard both online and in life.
Guys in front of a step-and-repeat (I’m only being shown LA guys).
Professional headshots (I’m only being shown LA guys).
Guys in tank tops.
Guys wearing tank tops in their professional headshots.
Anything featuring an instrument.
This guy just looks like a handful.
Guys taking their own picture in the mirror.
Pictures with kids in them (are they yours?!).
Except this guy. They look so adorable, and she’s probably his niece.
Nope, definitely this guy. He’s a monster and that little girl is a decoy.
And whatever is happening in this picture.