Stop Asking Stupid Questions

September 18, 2015.Reading time 5 minutes.

This week there has been a lot of talk about famous women (Tyra Banks) dealing with infertility issues. While I cannot relate, I found it mind boggling that people … strangers in fact … were commenting on her social media channels asking her, “Tyra, when are you going to have kids!” “Tyra, why don’t you have kids?!” Uhh really? Yes, because the first thing I think to do when I wake up is harass my favorite celebrity about why they haven’t procreated (What. Is. Wrong. With. People).

Besides the famous folks, I’ve witnessed so many people I’m close to get asked obnoxious questions. Questions that may have been appropriate to ask in 1955, but are no longer on the table. Myself in fact, have been victim to the heinous questions of …

“Why aren’t you married?”

“Why don’t you own a home?”

“Wait … you don’t have a boyfriend … why?!”

I usually turn bright red in those situations, uncomfortably giggle, and say something awkward like, “UHHHH …” and shrug my shoulders whilst trying to change the topic as fast as possible. But what I REALLY wanted to say to these people is …

“Well, I don’t own a home because I witnessed the economic collapse of the housing market first hand, and quite frankly want nothing to do with it. Also, I don’t have the money. I’m not married because I don’t settle for stupidity. And I don’t have a boyfriend because well … I don’t. It’s not that I don’t want one. I’m just too busy with my career to give any idiot a chance to waste my time :::Drops mic:::”

Guys, no longer is it okay to ask people who JUST got married or have been married for more than a second …

“Sooo when are you guys having kids?”

“You’ve been married for 2.5 seconds, why don’t you have kids!?”

“Sooo … you guys TRYING?!”

You have NO idea what people are going through. Those people could be dealing with infertility issues, or maybe cannot conceive (and ps. think of it this way … you are basically asking your friends if and how often they are boning … it’s weird. “Trying” means boning. Remember that.). Or maybe … GASP … they don’t want any damn children. Instead, perhaps, they are enjoying their time together alone, or I don’t know, saving up money so they don’t end up living in a very crowded van down by the river.

You just never know. And in these situations, when it comes to forcefully stepping your foot inside the private lives of your loved ones or strangers (for you extra annoying humans) … I say don’t. AND the only caveat to this rule is if you are over 75. You truly cannot control those broads … nor should you.

I’m sure most of these questions aren’t asked out of malice, and are just asked out of, well, the sake of pure conversation. But there are far more interesting things to fill a conversation with. News. Pop culture. Climate change. Unicorns. Kardashians. Cats. I mean … you get the point … I hope.

So I’m filing all of those foul questions outlined above under “word vomit”. Because if you are going to ask someone why they haven’t fertilized their eggs yet or basically, why no one loves them, you mine as well go the distance and ask how much they make a year, and if they got a raise, and how much that was. And, why the hell not, ask how many people they have slept with.

In the meantime … leave our personal shit where it belongs. In the privacy of our own chaotic brains.

But don’t worry … I’ll be sure to alert all of you when I settle down, get knocked up, and buy a perfect pink hour with 2.5 baths. But because you didn’t ask this one question, I’m KILLING it in my career.

The Death Rattle Of Shock Value

September 2, 2015.Reading time 6 minutes.

I’m having a serious issue with society right now. And I know, I know I probably sound like I’m 1,000 years old, but I have no qualms shaking my cane in the air, Sophia Petrillo-style, over how foul entertainment has become. Exhibit A: the VMAs (and yes, any good blogger knows not to discuss a topic that is three days old, but I was on vacation during this time, so suck it, we are talking about it).

I just feel like we have completely stretched the envelope when it comes to “shock value.” The envelope has stretch marks, it’s dirty, and nothing fits in it anymore. It lives in a trashcan and has a drug problem. Nothing is shocking anymore, which kind of sucks and makes for really bad and irritating TV. All we have now are poptarts desperately trying to get one more stretch out of that destroyed envelope. “LOOK AT ME, I HAVE NIPPLES AND I DO DRUGS AND I’M WEARING NEON AND I’M SO EFFING COOL” …

The intentional nip slips. Outfits that have the word “fuck” blasted across them. Blatantly smoking weed on camera. Kanye running for president?!? Listen, after Kanye makes an announcement like that and the first thing you think is, “hmmm can a First Lady have a sex tape?” instead of, “HOLY HELL, KANYE IS RUNNING FOR PRESIDENT, this is BONKERS!,” there is something seriously wrong with the world.

Remember the days when men with long hair who played music on live TV were considered scandalous? Or when a pop star sang about her virginity and rolled around a stage in a wedding dress and everyone lost their damn minds?

We now have poptarts, dressed in shower curtains with circles strategically placed over their lady bits pushing their weed agenda on all of America. Listen, if that is your thing, awesome. Go for it. Get high as balls all day err day (responsibly, of course). I just don’t need to hear you exclaim every five seconds how high you are or how much you love weed. I really don’t. I don’t tell you every five seconds how much I love cats, now do I? No.

And because nudity and drugs aren’t good enough, we then have to resort to making fun of pregnant ladies. I literally saw Kim Kardashian get compared to a baked potato. A BAKED. POTATO. Come ON, guys. We really can’t think of ANYTHING else funny? I don’t care how overexposed she is, the woman is nurturing a living thing inside her uterus. If she wants to go to town on a dozen Krispy Kremes … let the woman do her thang. If you can’t come up with anything funnier than saying a pregnant woman looks fat, well then call Tina Fey and Amy Poehler, I’m sure they can help you out, ass clowns.

All of this shit makes me want to cancel my cable and resort to reading novels by candlelight. Honestly. We gotta go back to the drawing board, kids. Because if I have to hear ONE more time that Taylor Swift MAYBE passed gas on live television, I may or may not cut someone.

I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall in that edit room with the genius who was so desperate to add some life to the show that he’s all, “WAIT, PAUSE THE TAPE! Did you hear that?! It totally sounds like a fart. It totally isn’t but … YES! Let’s say Taylor Swift farted! CLASSIC TV, BROSEPH :::high five:::!” Hmm … didn’t realize 5th grade humor made a comeback. Sigh.

What happened to bad ass talent? Amazing fashions that had all of us drooling? Nipples that lived behind fabric. Drugs that were exposed only at after parties? Idiots not running for president … waaaaiiitt … (and that right there is for my first and only political pun, a-thank you :::Takes bow:::) What I’m saying is, less trying to shock the universe, and more trying to put on entertaining shows so we have something decent to gab about with our co-workers and friends. I don’t need body parts and sex and drugs and straight up nonsense (I know, again, I sound like I’m 1 million years old … I get it). You know what I DO need more of, though? TINA. FEY.

Let’s let her run all of TV, kay thanks, byeeeeeeeee.

:::GASP::: … You Want To Show WHAT On Instagram!?

July 9, 2015.Reading time 4 minutes.

Okay, so I’m sitting here scratching my head, thinking to myself we have so many horrific things in this world to deal with … yet celebrities are currently OBSESSED with “freeing the nipple.” Really? Don’t mind the inequality, or sharknado freaking coming to life, oh yeah, and that little nuisance we like to call ISIS. No no … we need our rights to show our nipples on social media, dammit! Enough is enough!

What?! Seriously. What?!

It’s always been a little bothersome to me (and by a little I mean .1% in the big grand scheme of things) the inequality of genders being able to show their nasty bits on television … and now, on social media. Again, this shit doesn’t keep me up at night. I just never got why girls were allowed to let their ladies roam free, yet dudes had to keep their man parts bundled up. It’s weird. Parts are parts. Why is the penis so scandalous yet taas aren’t?

And now … nipples. Guys … really? First of all, and I don’t mean to sound like an old bag banging her cane on the ground in her mumu, but why the balls do you need to show your nipple on Instagram? I get it, Chrissy Teigan, you’re a model and what you do is “art” … but let that art live on the pages of W Magazine, not Instagram. Because when you, a public figure, post your nips and other lady parts on Instagram … it shows innocent kids/teens that, “hey! That must mean it’s totally cool for me to do it, too!” And then their life is ruined. I mean probably not really, but I imagine some evil backlash would take place because kids these days are evil a-holes :::shakes cane again:::

It’s like Instagram took away our rights to show our entire bodies and everyone went insane. What is the big deal with nipples anyways? They do nothing for me. I mean we all have them and some are larger then others. Cool? The word itself kind of skeeves me out, though (don’t ask me why). But do I feel stifled because I can’t show them anywhere and everywhere? That’s a big ol’ fashioned NO. I don’t need to see what my nipples look like with the Lo-Fi filter over them, kay?

Listen, I’m not a prude, but I just don’t think social media is a place for nipples to live. In fact, I cannot even believe I just wrote that previous sentence. :::Sigh::: Can you imagine what will happen if you can start showing your nips on Instagram? “I love that skirt :::scroll scroll::: OMG that cat is so cute :::scroll scroll::: aaaaaand there is some random broads nipple :::shuts off App and hits delete:::” Yeah … no.

I’m completely okay with Instagram banning us from showing our nipples, as long as it is ALL nipples … chicks, dudes, animals … all of it. A nipple is a nipple is a nipple. One gender’s is just more productive than anothers. Because honestly, what’s next? Va-jays? Wangs?! (I really need to start using the correct terminology for body parts, don’t I?)

Let’s keep Instagram for what it is meant to be: a place to post your cat pics. Yeah Miley Cyrus, you heard me … stop trying to make “nipples” happen, they aren’t going to happen!

The 5 Most Annoying People In Stores

March 30, 2015.Reading time 6 minutes.

Sunday I had a lovely day planned with my mom. We were going to get our nails did, hit up Home Goods, get lunch, and if there was time (ONLY if there was time), go to DSW. Sounds great, right? WRONG. You are WRONG, sir.

It seemed like every single person in America decided to go to the same stores we wanted to explore. And not only every single person in America, but the most high quality annoying kind. The ones who clearly have never functioned like a normal human being in a store before.

I don’t know about you, but from age 5 I was taught how to act like a normal human being in a store. Use “inside voices,” be conscious of other people, don’t be rude. I mean screw “store etiquette” it is just basic human being etiquette that you should have learned, and if your parents didn’t teach you, there was always Sesame Street and Mr. Rogers, so really there is no excuse.

By the time we returned home, we were so irritated and so over the human race, that we passed out for an hour on the couch out of sheer exhaustion due to idiots we had to co-exist with all day.

Shopping shouldn’t be such an exhausting feat, people. It really shouldn’t. What I’m about to outline below may sound bitchy and rude, but it’s the straight up truth.

I’m outlining this because I want us all to play nicely in stores. Be considerate! Move when someone says, “excuse me” without a huff and puff. Use your inside voice. Don’t talk to strangers because they probably don’t want to talk to you (weirdos ALWAYS feel the need to talk to me in stores). I just feel like we’ve forgotten these simple rules of life, and as obnoxious as you think I’m being about it, we all, deep down, know a refresher can help us have a more calm and collective shopping experience.

Ahem …

The Super Mom: The mom that has a child in a cart, pushing it around, and speaking to it like an idiot the entire time she is browsing. “Did someone go poopies? I smell a little something stinky! Did someone go poopies?!” (This literally happened) Dude … you’re in PUBLIC. And your kid can’t talk. From what I’ve witnessed it can only scream bloody murder. So do us all a favor, talk like an adult and go change your kids diaper … for the love.

The Cart Blocker: I hate shopping carts. I would rather have my arms full, dropping shit all over the place, then use a shopping cart. Simply because no one knows how to use them properly. Licenses to operate a shopping cart should be required. Because it isn’t okay to block an entire aisle with your cart, or eye roll the person who politely said “excuse me” to get around you and your dumb cart. Would you block an intersection with your car? Same thing, kids. Same thing.

The Full-time Conversationalist: This is the person who has his/her cellphone attached to his/her ear the entire time he/she is in the store. “Wait, Becky got what? Does it itch?” I mean … . And if you feel super awkward about going to a store by yourself and need to hide behind your cellphone as a comfort blanket, bring the person you are on the phone with to the store with you. Because I don’t care to hear about your friend Becky’s rash wile I’m trying to pick out bed linens, ya dig?

The Waste of Space: Ladies, do not bring your man shopping with you. Unless they actually care about what you put on your feet, or what accent pillows you use, leave them the fuck home. I actually saw a dude downing a piece of pizza in the middle of a very crowded aisle in Wegmens, on a Sunday, like he was chillin’ on his couch at home. Just standing there going to town on the slice like there wasn’t 15 annoyed people trying to get around him. What? Between them and the cart blockers, it is absolutely impossible to accomplish ANYTHING whilst shopping.

Your Children: What I’m about to say is a harsh reality that will most likely offend you, but this is a risk I am willing to take. Here goes …: no one likes your kids but you. No one. I realize you probably have no other option but to take them shopping with you, and I respect that, but when they scream, and carry on, and run around like little tiny psychopaths, and get all up in my bidness … gives me, and everyone else, a headache … and anxiety. My mother who has 3 kids and 2 grandchildren even hates your kids. So please don’t smile at me and be all, “aren’t they SO cute?!,” because no.

The Go-To Emergency Outfit

March 19, 2015.Reading time 5 minutes.

I have a serious snoozing problem. In fact I set my alarm for 45 minutes earlier than I need to get up so I can casually and comfortably snooze myself out of a sound nights rest … for 45 minutes. I know … I have issues.

It’s a dangerous game to play. You really have to stay somewhat lucid so you don’t fall back into a deep sleep. But there are signs to look for to know you are doomed for lateness. Like when you look at your phone and instead of it saying “click to snooze” it says “click to snuggle.” (Yes, this has actually happened to me).

Or there are the times when you turn off your alarm instead of hitting snooze … like I did this week. And before you know it, you’re back in that amazing dream, thinking to yourself, “I still have 10 more minutes, I still have 10 more minutes.” But in reality, you’re fucked.

It’s the worst feeling when you open your eyes, look at your phone and see that you should have been out of bed 15 minutes ago. The. Worst. Especially when you have somewhere to be. The first thing I think of is what can I do to make getting ready 15 minutes faster? It usually involves skipping a shower (which, don’t look disgusted, I usually shower the night before so there). Or nixing that interesting hair style I’ve been dying to try.

But I realized something incredibly important. Sure, we may all plan our outfits out for the next day whether we physically do it or put it together in our brains. I know I do. But sometimes those outfits involve a lot of effort whether it be lots of jewelry, lots of layering, or lots of ironing, lint control, etc. In other words, not conducive for someone who is running insanely late.

So in those moments when you wake up, heart racing, cursing the Gods for not allowing us to levitate or teleport, you need a go-to emergency outfit. Luckily for me, I had one. I like to think I keep it in glass, and when the moment arises when I sleep too long, I can karate chop through the figurative glass where I keep said emergency outfit, setting off figurative sirens, throw it on and be out the door.

This go-to emergency outfit is plain old simple, yet stylish, of course. Mine involves a pair of stretch pants (that usually are lint magnets, but in times like these, you just have to make sacrifices. People who get up late also get a hot mess card to use). The stretch pants are paired with an over-sized, comfortable sweater, boots, and a statement necklace. And boom, I’m out the door. In the summer, my go-to emergency outfit, usually, is a maxi dress. Summer is just easier, am I right?

I try to only touch this outfit when I’m insanely lazy, or insanely late. But sometimes it gets worn a lot (winter is a bitch, what can I say). I’m beginning to think if someone drew a cartoon character of me, I would be in this outfit, all day err day. But, you know, I’m okay with it. Because without this easy outfit, I wouldn’t have made it to work on time, I wouldn’t have made a deadline, and instead would be pondering in my bedroom if I can mix and match argyle with stripes … and stressing myself out trying to make my hair Real Housewives wavy.

So ladies, get this outfit in order immediately. Consider it your suit of armor against lateness and looking like a disheveled mess. You can thank me later. And if you see a friend, co-worker, or frenemy wearing the same outfit constantly, instead of talking shit, give them a little head nod for being prepared like a BOSS.

I’m Trying To Can With This Post … But I Can’t

March 4, 2015.Reading time 4 minutes.

I’m 100% guilty of being an exaggerator to get my point across in conversation. Even just then in that sentence I exaggerated by saying “100%.” I don’t have the actual stats, but hey, it kind of verbally underlines and bolds it, don’t ya think?

So I couldn’t help but giggle at the SNL skit last weekend detailing the conversations of millennial interns. If you haven’t watched it yet, please do so. It will bring your dismal, rainy Wednesday up a notch. But whilst watching and laughing and saying, “oh interns,” I stopped dead in my tracks and thought to myself, “I LITERALLY say some of this stuff … holy shit I JUST DID IT. ACK!”

Millenials, right? Wrong. This kind of “speech” (if that is what we are calling it) runs across a vast number of ages. And after much thought and contemplation, I believe it is because we have all been hypnotized by reality shows like the Hills, Laguna Beach, and basically anything on Bravo and E!

I mean the Kardashians alone … hello? Have you HEARD them? Long drawn out vooooooooowels, lots of “EW.” and calling each other ridiculous names like “slores” (which, true story I have absolutely adopted that shit into my vocabulary … it’s too good not to), have trickled their way into every day conversation making us all think it is okay, when, in real reality, it is not.

Should we all go back to the Eliza Doolittle school of speech? Instead of “the rain in Spain,” nonsense, Professor Henry Higgins would sit us all down and attempt to get us to say a sentence without the word “literally” in it … because it makes no sense. You’re talking and telling a story. It’s not “figuratively” happening. So … then it must be literal. And by you telling me it is literally happening seems kind of repetitive, right? Right.

For the love of God, we need to stop pretending we are being filmed for a reality show as we sit at a bar and gab to our girlfriends about how we will, “LITERALLY die if we ever see that scumbags face ever again.” I’m guilty of it. Sometimes I hear myself talking after a few cocktails and I have this ache in my stomach for fear of what the quaint little couple next to me is thinking as I morph into my Kourtney Kardashian alter ego. Maybe I just shouldn’t give a shit, who knows.

All I’m saying is, hats off to SNL for making light of something most girls are guilty of. If you pride yourself on your proper and perfect English speech, then good for you, Harvard grad, here’s a cookie. For the rest of us average millennials, let’s make a conscious effort to remove these from our vocabulary today. I wish I could shock you every time you said, “LITERALLY” or “I DIIIIIIIIIIIE,” but alas, I fear that is drastically illegal.

Class is in session. Lesson 1: Things we should no longer be saying … ahem:

1. Literally

2. OH MY GOD :::fill in blank:::

3. I can’t even

4.I literally … just cannot

5. Exaggerations regarding the weather … Ex: It’s like 500 degrees in here, I’m melting (no it’s not, it’s a balmy 78 and you will live)

6. Don’t even

7. Exaggerations regarding timing … Ex: Uuuggghhh, I’ve been waiting for you for like a million trillion years (you would be dead if that was LITERALLY true. Stop it.)

8. Exaggerations about hunger … Ex: My stomach is literally eating itself, I’m going to pass out and die. (It isn’t scientifically possible to happen in one day. Calm down and eat a Kind bar.)

9. Really? REALLY?

10. EW, Seriously? EW.

Believe In Your Own BS

February 20, 2015.Reading time 6 minutes.

Last night I found myself listening to Beyonce. Now prepare to throw rotten fruit at me when I say, I’m not the biggest Bey fan. I like her husband better, personally (HOVA!). And it isn’t because her songs aren’t catchy, and yes, you will absolutely see me backin’ it up to Drunkin’ Love, for sure. I just think her catchphrases linger around far too much and make me loathe the people that walk this Earth saying, “Surfboard,” in a strange voice and don’t happen to be in the ocean nor did they fill their tub up half way. Just sayin’.

But I found myself YouTubing the video for “Flawless,” last night because I needed a pick me up. Sometimes, when you’re feeling low and beaten down, all you need is a cocky, strong-ass bitch to pull you out of it. And when Cher wasn’t doing it for me, I turned to Beyonce.

God damn, God damn, God DAMN (see catchphrases, now I’m doing it) is that song crazy. Apart of me wants to stop her mid-strut and be like, “whoa whoa whoa, too big for your britches much?” And then another part of me wants to go all 90’s grunge, wear four inch stilettos, Merlot lips, and stand in the middle of a bunch of bad ass stylish ladies and say, “yeah bitch, I DO look so good tonight, thank you for reminding me, Bey. UP TOP :::high five” (Now do we think Beyonce gives high fives? I feel like that’s a no.)

I know this song is SO 2014, but it made me think about a little something called believing your own bullshit. I’m almost positive that Beyonce, once in a blue moon, stops herself during the day and goes, “holy fuck, I did NOT wake up like this,” as a team of professionals make her look PhotoShop chic. Now my friends will tell you, if they ever happen to drop me a compliment, “you look so thin,” “you’re worth more than that nonsense,” “wow, that outfit looks great,” I will more than likely thank them, but say, “bitch, please.” Because I, sadly, don’t believe my own bullshit. And that is a fatal flaw of mine.

Beyonce walks this Earth like she owns the damn place because she believes it. Oprah has a following of minions that would probably eat dirt if she put it on her “Favorite Things” list and labeled it “organic,” because she MAKES them believe her bullshit. Sure, we all have days, like I did last night, where we just want to crawl into bed and say, “you know what, you win, I’m out.” But no. Here and there, we deserve to boost about ourselves and stand up and say, “hell YES I look amazing today,” and “NO sadly … I’m not an ugly bitch, but thanks for thinking of me.”

True, I do think Beyonce is a little cocky. But hell, nowadays to sell your own personal brand (which ps. we all have, whether you like it or not) we need to do it with a little pizzazz (that word just isn’t used enough). And in order to do that, we need to believe our own bullshit. You think Pepsi sits in a corner like a meek little mouse and just prays to Jesus big bad Coke won’t smack the shit out of them? No. They get pre-K. Fed Britney Spears to dance half naked on a commercial during the Super Bowl chugging their beverage (still my all-time fave Pepsi commercial). Let’s pay homage shall we?

What I’m saying is, it’s okay to own up to the things that make you great, whether you’re an amazing athlete. Have a career that is booming out of control. Or just find yourself to be a genuinely nice human being who cares for the people around them immensely.

I’m very lucky to have people in my life who remind me daily to believe my own bullshit (even though it isn’t bullshit, but you know what I mean). The shit you’re afraid to say because you think people will see you as a cocky hot mess. Well I say, do it once a week. And I’m here to say, wind blowing in my hair, eyes peering from side-to-side, in a sparkly one-piece suit, Beyonce-style, own yours, too.

Here goes: I was voted the third best blogger, and #1 fashion blogger in Philadelphia. :::drops mic:::

Your turn.

The New Evil: Showering

January 19, 2015.Reading time 4 minutes.

As if we don’t have enough problems in this life, war, inequality, terrorism, disease, now all of a sudden showering every day is harmful to our health? Which leads me to tilt my head and quietly exclaim, “what the fuck?!”

I’m more of a “shower the night before” type of gal. But I, for the most part, minus a few lazy moments, shower every day. And mostly because I want to. For the love of God, I take public transportation. Especially in the summer months, the first thing I crave when I get home is to wash the filth from the general population off my body. Nothing like mixing your sweat with the left over sweat from some stranger who sat in the same seat before you, am I right?!

Listen, just because some hot shot doc all of a sudden felt the need to tell the world that by showering every day we are losing important bacteria and drying out our skin doesn’t mean much to me. Why do you think Sephora sells $200 bottles of moisturizer in a thimble? Dry skin is curable, people. Very curable. There are about 1,001 solutions to dry skin. And good bacteria? Please. By “good bacteria” do you mean the strands of new viruses that are probably being organically bred on the seats, handles, and doors of all train cars? And let’s not forget the petri dish called your office.

Showering is relaxing to me. I get in, wash off the day, clear my head, get out, moisturize, and feel so fresh and so clean clean. Nothing is better. Well, not true, when I have to shave my legs, that showering experience isn’t so grand.

What is even more laughable is that the solution to only showering every three days, which apparently is the appropriate amount to shower, is wiping yourself down in areas that may start to “smell.” Umm, seriously? Am I high right now? Is this real life? Because the idea of giving myself a sponge bath in front of a perfectly fine working shower makes my head want to explode. Jesus … the effort alone.

Direct quote, dermotologists recommend you wash the “the grossest parts of your body” with a washcloth. Kindly define “grossest parts of my body,” please. Because I don’t find wiping down my lady parts, which I assume would fall under the “grossest parts” category, and most importantly during that lovely “time of the month,” with a washcloth pleasant in any sense of the word. Bring on the cleansing of “good bacteria” any day.

What I’m saying is, shame on this doctor for instilling this idiotic fear in people. We have enough shit to worry about then alone getting in our showers to remove the stank of the day. Am I right? Listen, I’m not a clean freak or a “germaphobe,” and yes I believe exposing yourself to bacteria is a good thing as it helps your immune system, but when it comes to showering … well … I’ll leave you with this:

What I Take For Granted

January 8, 2015.Reading time 4 minutes.

free-speech-graffiti — Photo credit: http://genius.com/Lupe-fiasco-philosophy-sunday-free-speech-annotated

Every night, I go to my laptop, login to my blogs “interface” (or whatever the hell you call it), and let my thoughts and opinions fly freely. I edit, hit post, and once I do that, the entire world has access to those thoughts and opinions. I doubt the whole world is reading (maybe I like to think that in my head :::hair flip:::), but still, it is there. President Obama could read it, Tina Fey could read it (OMG I would just DIE), your grandmother could read it, your dog walker could, and yeah, you get the point.

I’ve never really thought about how amazingly freeing it is to be a blogger. I don’t have a boss to turn to do rip my posts apart, I don’t have guidelines (well I do, but they are made up by yours truly, and quite frankly aren’t that rigid), and really, all I care about is staying true to my voice. I can say “fuck” as many times as I want without having to pay the FCC millions and bazillions of dollars (although my aunt does give me a harsh talking to about it, sorry Aunt Pat!). And really, the only negativity I receive are some angry emails over ripping apart topics like Ugg boots (I’m still not sorry).

I can literally say anything I want. And you know what? That fucking rules. And as a writer, a creative, a journalist in a sense, it hurts me deeply over the events that happened yesterday in Paris at Charlie Hebdo. Because those people were doing the same thing I do every day here on Life Sucks In A Strapless Bra, practicing their freedom of speech. Simply putting out into the world an opinion on something, and perhaps adding a little humor to a serious topic. And for that, innocent lives were taken.

I hate to get all serious and political on here, because it really isn’t my bag. But I felt it necessary to show some love for something I take for granted every single day of my life … freedom of speech. Because there are people out there that don’t have this luxury. There are people out there who spit on this luxury and want to hurt those who have it, as we saw yesterday. It’s heinous and unacceptable.

I want to give it up to all of the creatives, journalists, cartoonists, writers, designers, artists, and anyone else who fearlessly practices their right to freedom of speech every day, and I dedicate this post to you. And today, I want you all to think about how awesome it is, and how lucky we are to practice this every God damn day. I know I will.

My thoughts go out to the lovely people of Paris and the families of those who lost loved ones yesterday. And in the words of the great and powerful Tina Fey in an article with Time Magazine, ahem, “[We] cannot back down on free speech in any way. We all have to stand firm on the issue of free speech.”

Things I Don’t Give A Shit About

October 2, 2014.Reading time 4 minutes.

I don’t know why, but lately I feel like we (the general public), have been getting beaten with a stick filled with the same pop culture topics over and over again … that really no one should give a shit about. Every time I turn on the TV, scroll through Instagram, go on the interwebs, I’m once again beaten by the same facts over and over again which leads me to say … “I don’t give a shit! Why do you insist on telling me these meaningless things that I don’t care about. Honestly!”

I thought about it and said to myself, “self … I couldn’t possibly be the ONLY one feeling this, right?” I mean sure, breaking news Taylor Swift has a new boyfriend … fantastic. But five days later, do I REALLY still care? No. Did I ever REALLY care? Probably not. Things I don’t care about for $5,000, Alex.

Since I’ve been feeling quite overwhelmed by this fact, lately, I decided to make a list of the topics I just don’t give a shit about in hopes that I will send them into the blogosphere for them to never come back. Psyche … who am I kidding, Mario Lopez is probably salivating right now waiting to blab about them tonight on EXTRA! EXTRA!

So here they are, in no particular order. Call me cynical, call me a bitch, call me rude … call me cranky (okay maybe I am, JUST a little) … but you know you KIND of want to add to this list, right? Come on. Come on. COME ON! Do it.

1. Lauren Conrad. Lauren Conrad’s wedding. Lauren Conrad’s wedding dress. Lauren Conrad’s wedding party. Unless it has to do with Lauren Conrad on the Hills not going to Paris … I don’t want to hear about it, kay?

2. George Clooney no longer being a bachelor. Get over it, no woman can even come CLOSE to competing with Amal Alamuddin. Throw in the towel gracefully, girls.

3. The iPhone 6 and the iPhone watch and everything related to the iPhone 6 and watch and all of their controversies. If I hear, “but it bends” one more time … I swear … :::shaking fist:::: iOS this.

4. Kendall Jenner getting bullied by other models at fashion week because of her “reality star status.” Really? Really? Isn’t there and Ebola epidemic happening? Just sayin’…

5. Taylor Swift trying to be a feminist. I just … no. Stop it.

6. Beyonce Photoshopping her Instagram pics and any other star Photoshopping their Instagram pics. I mean how much time DO you have on your hands to Photoshop your Instagram pics? Granted a minion is doing it for you, but still … someone has to art direct your thigh fat, am I right?

7. That freaking picture of Amal Alamuddin’s wedding dress with Oscar de la Renta in Vogue. Seriously. Byeeeeeeee.

8. Kate Middleton being preggo, yet again, and her preggo style. Nope. Yawn.

9. Any star having a wardrobe malfunction. Really? Selena Gomez’ zipper was down at the airport? Riveting, Guiliana Rancic … simply riveting.

10. Pumpkin flavored anything. My GAWD. Now it’s trendy to make fun of the “basic bitches” sipping on their pumpkin spice latte’s, but I guarantee the woman writing about these “basic bitches” and their pumpkin fetishes has a pumpkin spice candle burning next to their Mac Book Air. BOOM. I can’t wait for the first frost to kill off all this pumpkin bullshit.