That’s Plenty, Thanks

That’s plenty:

  • Feather hair extensions. 
  • John Mayer. (Hasn’t Jennifer Aniston been through enough?!)
  • People referring to their boyfriends as “the boy.”
  • Tim Burton and Johnny Depp. 
  • Reality stars wearing bandage dresses. We can’t all look good in bandage dresses!
  • Skinny Perez Hilton. He somehow set a new benchmark on how upset I am by newly thinned out celebrities. The scale is now from a Skinny Seth Rogen to a Skinny Perez Hilton, with Skinny Al Roker somewhere in the middle. I’m offended by how angular his jaw is. 
  • ‘Spirit Animal’ jokes. (But if we’re keeping track, Sally Draper is my spirit animal [but not Kiernan Shipka, who I think is a leetle too proud of herself]).

    Stop encouraging her, Jon Hamm.

  • Anchorman 2. Just when everyone gave me some peace and stopped quoting Anchorman 1, Anchorman 2 is coming out. Young white men, you have already ruined this movie for me. 


This vision of class was on Late Night with Jimmy Fallon last night:

Mariska Hargitay, you keep doin’ whachu doin.’

Nudie Texts

I think my blog is a pretty good resource for any guy who would like to date me. I mean, just go back in the archives and you’ll find some solid advice on how to win my heart. If there are any stalkers out there, I would suggest that you print out my posts, make a binder, and study that like it’s finals week. One day, you can pretend to bump into me at Barnes and Noble, know exactly how to impress me and win my heart, then just when I let my guard down you can skin me alive and wear my face as a jaunty little hat.

With that said, I have another piece of helpful advice to add:

Don’t ever ask me to send you a nudie text. I won’t do it. And then I’ll think you are a predator.

The reason for this– and this is not to slut shame anyone, because you know I’m all about feminism and doing you– but I want to be B-list famous, and don’t you forget it. If I have some nudie picture floating around in some guy’s SIM card, I would think and obsess about it every day. I would probably marry this guy just for a solid confirmation he wouldn’t sell it to TMZ when I hit it medium.

A picture of me on Perez Hilton would be my nightmare because:

1. I’m not an orphan.

2. Tina Fey would be so disappointed in me.

Is this insight into my psyche and how my thought process works kind of terrifying? Or, like, charming? In the sense that I think this far ahead into a hypothetical future where Tina Fey takes me on as her mentee because she wants a red headed protege that finally makes her proud… Ughhh, I think I answered my question. That I’m adorable.