I recently posted about this here. I love Tinder. It gives me license to judge people on face value, which, unfortunately, societal norms don’t allow me to do face to face. Anonymity is a beautiful thing. I’m going on my first Tinder date on Friday. I fully expect to feel as awkward as Mitt Romney at a reggae concert. Yet I look forward to it, because for lonely college students everywhere, the Tinder logo represents the possibility of sex and regret.
I think women start accepting their bodies when they start shaving their bikini area. Because that takes fucking upkeep. If you’re going to get a Brazilian wax, the prickles that occur a week later just aren’t worth it. At least for me, short painful hairs poking at my nether regions were enough to realize that my body, particularly my vaginal area, is attractive just the way it is, even if that means its covered in Bigfoot’s winter coat. Plus, some people are into that. I have yet to find someone who admits it, but hey, they do exist. I’m a fucking hippy. I should know. Continue reading →
If I have heard too much of any song this summer it is “I Guess That’s Why They Call It the Blues” by Elton John. Not because it plays too often on the radio, no, of course not, but rather because I can’t get it out of my head. Someone who was once very close with me friend-broke-up with me (there’s no better way to describe it) and so, like it or not, this song has been speaking to me. Which is really rather absurd, seeing as we were never lovers as the song suggests, and seeing as the song does not accurately capture the distaste I feel for this girl. Perhaps it’s something in the chord progression that speaks to me.
I suppose I should describe friend-breaking-up. Her spiel went something like this: “I just feel like this relationship friendship isn’t working out for me. It’s not you, it’s me. I keep inadvertently feeling hurt or upset whenever you go out with the guys your other friends without me. I guess maybe I’m just too touchy to be your girlfriend friend, but I have to add that I think the fault does rest on your shoulders as well. I feel like you’re not willing to open up emotionally to me the way that I have to you. With that said, while I don’t think we can work as a couple friends, I think we should be just friends colleagues.”
Being told that your friend doesn’t want to have an emotional relationship with you is one thing, but being told she’d like to keep you around to proofread her essays is quite another. This simple distinction is the reason “I Guess That’s Why They Call It the Blues” doesn’t quite fit the feelings I’m feeling right now (ie. why was I friends with someone quite that selfish in the first place?). But it also doesn’t lyrically fit any of the other feelings I’m feeling as well, seeing as its written from the perspective of estranged lovers. I do happen to think the piano has a wonderful tone to it throughout the song, and I suppose I am doomed to always have at least one Elton John song richocheting around my head for the rest of my life. And that is much better to the alternative, namely Iggy Azalea’s false southern accent. Thank god I no longer listen to top 40.
Picture summer: buzzing cicadas, beach towels, kids with juiceboxes, women in revealing bikinis, and lazy bike rides. Now picture summer in the Bay Area:
When I picture summer I smell sad, unnecessary sunscreen and angry, freezing tourists. And as much as I hate them taking my parking places and walking in the middle of the street, I feel for them, I really do. Because they come here, from maybe the Central Valley, and maybe further, expecting sunny California, the golden state, to dish out yellow beaches and piña colada weather. Not in California del Norte, oh no. Continue reading →
Does the Daily Post not know their audience at all? I mean, I don’t want to stereotype all of us bloggers out there (that’s exactly what I want to do), but from the travel and food blogs I’ve read on here, I don’t think we have all that many sports fans. But then again, maybe I’m just projecting.
In my day, I’ve possessed a lot of tickets to SF Giants games. Somehow, I never actually went to one. Continue reading →
1) Lack of talent. It’s not that I don’t have skills, it’s that they’re not marketable. Sure, I sing and play piano, but so does everyone else, and what makes my singing and playing piano any more memorable? Absolutely nuthin’. Not to mention my songs sound like Elton John’s B-sides meet drunken homeless bluesman.
I take issue with the Daily Post’s Daily Prompt because I’m anti-holiday. This article on the Daily Beast pretty clearly sums up the ridiculousness that is Father’s Day, with both personal anecdote and humor. I don’t think we need another occasion to buy Hallmark cards, and the mere suggestion of another effing holiday makes me sick. Not to mention, whatever holidays people have been suggesting (Uncle Day, I’m looking at you) they probably already exist. I mean, if we have National Vinegar Day (November 1st), we probably have a designated day for every family member. Hell, if Squirrel Appreciation Day (January 21st) is a legit thing, I’d be ashamed if there were no Uncle Day. Believe me, special days for obscure family members exist. It’s just that nobody cares enough to celebrate them. Continue reading →