How much do we value quality?

In a world where technology is constantly changing it’s near impossible to stay relevant.

You iphone is binned within a year, your computer is rubbish within five, your boyfriend and your car goes to a lot in upstate New York to be turned into scrap metal for the Chinese to buy. With that being said it’s clear I need to frequently take significant periods out of my week to stay relevant with all the new marketing analytic reporting platforms.

Social media has already become the newest and most powerful form of marketing and outreach so it would make sense that there are more than a handful of analytical reporting programs to become familiar with. Amidst the warm rain and diabolical thunder that dominated the Chicagoland sky today I gallantly ventured into my closest Starbucks, sans umbrella, to study up on the newest reporting.

Somewhere amongst all the yoga pants, vagrants frequenting the restroom and burnt coffee I began to think about reporting and numbers. My mind dizzy from reading the difference between and Socialflow (spoiler: there really isn’t one) I started to not only think but to question (fyi house republicans- it’s a natural progression) – Are we focusing more on clicks and valuing clicks more than content? Are clicks and “likes” weighted heavier in 2015 than actual content? I just said an allegorical mouthful right there.

Think about all the women on your Instagram feed showing their body and I don’t mean the supermodels but the women you ride next to on the train, the women who file their taxes and can’t write off “ Brazilian wax for Instagram photo-shoot”, the women who are exposing themselves for a “like”.

Has our society somehow taken a tragic turn onto a dead-end on Elm Street? Have we progressed from valuing exceptional media content like the pieces written by, oh I don’t know literary geniuses like myself, to valuing some EliteDaily article written by a recent graduate who has watched too many episodes of Girls?

I’m going to circle it back to these reporting programs. These programs that companies rely so heavily on can only report clicks and “likes” because not so ironically there is no reporting system for quality. There is no numerical scale or value on something that is heavy and rich in content. So until some algorithm is invented that can calculate and spit out the integrity of a post EliteDaily will remain on my newsfeed.

EliteDaily- you can dance on my newsfeed all night long like Lionel Richie but you will never be granted a literally pass. No EliteDaily you don’t get a Press Pass THAT IS SACRADE. Cut to that recent graduate who loves girls in the White House Press room asking if Michelle ever wants to ‘just like stay in bed all day, eat pizza and just like not adult and go to Coachella. Because Coachelle is the everything.’

With all my ranting and anarchist flags waving (I feel like anarchist having flags would be very anti-anarchist) these analytical platforms still exist and I need to know how to pull, read and generate these reports for my own relevancy in the marketing world. However, call me PollyPocket Pollyanna I still feel good content will be found. Good content is out there; and it doesn’t have to use a Baitclick to find readers.

Write it and they will come.

* Three people read your posts this week*

Damn it.


Are Chances Risks Worth Taking?

Picture 5

Sometimes I try colors that I know aren’t necessarily flattering with my skin tone- but that’s about how far I go with the risk taking behaviors. Just recently my coffee place changed their Chai recipe – when asked if I still wanted my tea with an overpowering sense of sadness I replied ” I’m sorry, but I can’t” and left with water.

I wasn’t always like this, of course. Whenever I’m feeling particularly melancholy I look back to college and think about how badass I was. In my early twenties I gave ‘no fucks.’ I lived in a friend’s basement in New York where I hardly knew anyone to go to an unpaid internship in the city. I got a tattoo. I smoked pot. I took cabs in Miami at night by myself. I went to school in an entirely different state. I was completely fearless. I have a tremendous amount of respect for my college self. That unrelenting certainty that I would find my way and be okay is something unbelievably rare. Among my small group of guy friends they would often referred to me as “ the baddest” cus well I was so badass. Was it age that changed me?

After I graduated and the whole ex boyfriend being a sociopath in jail thingy ended instead of staying in Florida where I had made my life I cowardly and with a great sense of defeat retreated back home to the city where I swore to myself I’d never move back to. But here I am at home going to my 9-5 job being the girl I promised myself I would never be.

My new job even offered me a promotion in Jersey (just a state over from my dream life) – but I turned it down. I mean where would I live? How would I financially survive? What if I didn’t like it? I just wasn’t strong enough to do it again, so I politely said ” I’m sorry, but I can’t”

When I first moved back home I had such anxieties. How did I not know what was going on in my own apartment? How did I believe so many lies? Why was I so naive? Why did I trust so many people? Why was I so stupid? However, eventually like anything with time the anxiety diminished or so I thought. It was only recently that I actually stopped to think about- my anxiety didn’t magically fix itself it simply morphed into something far more sinister- I’m almost completely devoid of all emotion except for fear.

If it wasn’t for those God Damned Sarah McLachlan commercials I wouldn’t be able to convince myself that I’m actually human.

I’m so overwhelmed with this incredible sense of paralyzing fear of the unknown that I don’t pursue things I actually want. I mean Christ a promotion with my company to New Jersey, just one stepping stone from my dream city and I turned it down? Who the hell am I? New York is my dream, it always has been. What am I doing? It’s almost like everything I do I have to weigh out the risks and the consequences ad nauseam. I’m like an insurance lawyer- nope that risk isn’t worth it. Yeah, I’m gonna need you to cut down that tree by your window it could possibly fall one day and could maybe cause damage that I don’t want to have to pay for down the road.

It would be so easy to blame a particular person wouldn’t it? It would be too easy to say all my problems are because of him. But I know that’s a cheap excuse. Yet I can’t help but think after all the things he’s done to me he is STILL fucking with me from behind  bars. I just don’t know how confident I am in saying I can take a chance. I don’t believe I have the wherewithal to be anything but exceedingly safe and emotionally closed off. Is it better to be safe and live no life at all or take a chance and be willing to fail?

I truly only have two options to either take a risk and allow myself to actually feel something real or play it safe and continue to say, “ I’m sorry but I can’t”.

……I’m so sorry, But I can’t.

I Pick The Wrong Men.

Why are you seeing Doctor G?

Because I pick the wrong men.


In the mist of paying my phone bill today I suddenly realized something – something that had been a long time coming. Between studying how many text messages I send a month I realized maybe I wasn’t actually unlucky in love maybe it was me- Maybe I just pick the wrong men.

What a thought. I pick the wrong men. I immediately went to lunch to gain some solace to contemplate my newest theory. Maybe I had a man pattern.  And then I wrote out this awesome list… enjoy.

My first boyfriend: The jock/ stereotypical egomaniac. Extent of relationship- “You’re so hot. No you’re so hot.” It was a very deep connection. It ended when he cheated on me… on my birthday (this will become a pattern in itself)

Second boyfriend: The Townie. Financially supported him, since I was 17 this consisted of saving my lunch money and giving it to him for, unannounced to me, drugs (this too will become a pattern in itself) He eventually told me what to wear, where to go and who I could go there with…. He wasn’t insecure or anything. It ended when I realized he was never going to get a job and my parents stopped giving me lunch money.

Third Boyfriend: The Midget. He actually wasn’t too bad except for his weird mom issues. When I found someone else and wanted to break up he didn’t really accept it. He called my house a couple times calling me a whore on my parent’s voicemail. WINNER!!

Fourth Boyfriend: The Mother Lover. No but really pretty sure there was some bizarre relationship with his mom going on. He was bipolar; I’m pretty sure loved me one second then wouldn’t return my calls the next. He cheated on me insistently (and not just with his mother), I found out he had a separate relationship on my birthday.

Fifth Boyfriend: The Sociopath. Everything he said was a lie. He had a double life where drugs, thievery and strippers were included. So lifetime movie Cliche.

Sixth Boyfriend: The Perfect One. Everything this kid ever said and did was perfect right down to how he parted his perfect hair- except when he ended it by just not talking to me anymore and I found out via social media that he is dating some boring girl with a flat chest and an even flatter personality- cause that shit wasn’t perfect.

I took a long look at my list. Not only did I feel ridiculous for actually writing a list of ex boyfriends on my lunch hour, but I felt crazy too – why would I pick these people?

I knew they all had issues but I still allowed a relationship to form anyway. Am I a masochist? Why do I pick people who I know are fucked up? Are non-fucked up guys like too boring or something? One of my coworkers suggested it was maybe a sex thing but without a second thought I shot that shit right down. Only one of them was good at sex – I’ll let you guess on your own… yup his mom musta taught him a thing or two.

Then it hit me. I’m a FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE.

Let me just preface this statement with I am the least mothering/domestic/kind/gentle woman you will ever meet. I don’t like to hug, I don’t like babies, I don’t like Hallmark movies, when people cry I either awkwardly laugh or pretend I have to make an urgent phone call over seas to my sick Aunt – yet some how I picked these guys who needed to be taken care of.

Am I in fact selfless and caring? Apparently.

I kept picking guys who needed me to mother them and take care of them. Each relationship ended horribly because in the end not a GOD DAMNED PERSON WAS TAKING CARE OF ME- not even me!! I had gotten so consumed with giving my boyfriends attention, and tax free therapy I had forgotten to take care of myself- bizarre for someone who extensively conditions their hair twice a week!!

Sitting back at my desk feverishly biting my lip I had another epiphany (what a busy Friday, I know)- I was still doing it. I was still picking people who the relationship would be all about them. And right then and there I promised myself (very Scarlet O’Hara on the hill scene) that my next guy is gonna make it all about me.

With all that said though- Damn, Perfect Kid those Raybands, though.

Why do we use the word ‘slut’ so much?


We are all guilty. We all say it, we’ve all been called it (some more than others). Slut. The word (like ‘bitch’) gets thrown around so much I’m not 100 percent positive of what it means anymore. What does the word slut mean?

Slut according to Wikipedia;

“Slut or slattern is a term applied to an individual who is considered to have loose sexual morals or who is sexually promiscuous. The term is generally pejorative and most often applied to women as an insult, sexual slur or offensive term of disparagement, meaning “dirty or slovenly”

Slut according to Urban Dictionary;

“Someone who provides a very needed service for the community and sleeps with everyone, even the guy that has no shot at getting laid and everyone knows it. She will give him a sympathy fuck either because someone asked her to or she just has to fuck everyone she knows. These are great people, and without them sex crimes would definitly increase. Thank you slut, where ever you are.” … Obviously someone on Urban Dictionary not only is an asshole for rationalizing and making a joke out of sexual violence, but they’re also an idiot who doesn’t know how to spell “ definitely”.

So, a slut by both definitions is someone, a female, who has lots of sex. I personally wasn’t aware having lots of sex was a bad thing? Having lots of bad sex however is a very bad thing. Curious I did some research on what the male equivalent of a slut is, and even more curious was the fact there isn’t one. Sure there are names for guys that have lots of sex but they are words like “playboy” “ladies man” and “pimp” which ironically (or maybe not so ironically) have a more positive connotation to them. So while there are names for the male version of ‘slut’ there isn’t an equivalent. Maybe I don’t get it but why is it wrong for women to have lots of sex but for men is regarded as an accolade?

The word slut initially and superficially is about women having sex but really it’s about much more. Some people are fearful of loosing the idea of what a ‘man’ is and are uncomfortable with women who are comfortable with their sexuality. Influenced by fear they bring down what is making them so afraid by shame it. Under the surface the word slut is actually less about sex and more about gender roles and comfort levels. Slut is applied to women who are forward in their personalities/goals or even dress provocatively – we ( men and women) call forward women sluts… sometimes even bitches.

The excessive use of the word ‘slut’ really began to keep the inequality of the sexes alive and very present. If women have and are becoming more equal to men in the work environment, in the home environment and even in the political atmosphere what can men ( and weird women) do to keep propriety and gender roles? Well, do things like call women ‘sluts’. By doing that they keep the equality between men and women skewed therefore making the insecure guy feel all important and macho inside. In this man’s mind he is a Godlike for getting so much ass whilst  (in order for him to keep his manhood) he must then say/believe a woman is lesser for doing that exact same act. If women are becoming equal everywhere else, the bedroom is the one place where men can still be ‘men’.

Now, I can easily understand why men would perpetuate the slut shaming but why are women taking part in it too?  What’s this female on female slut shaming all about? Why do we do it?

Reason (and probably most used reason) #1:

I hate myself for this but I can’t say I’m innocent of this slut shaming; I’ve for sure done it. When have I done it? When I see a girl my friends and I don’t like and one of us will say something like, ‘oh forget her, she’s just a slut anyway”. But why is she a slut? Because we don’t like her?  It’s definitely not because I actually think she’s a ‘slut’. In my mind do whoever, whenever and wherever you want and if you’re happy with your choice I applaud you, so when I use the word ‘slut’ it’s not that I actually care (or even know) this particular girl’s sexual history- I’m just being an asshole. I’m just trying to make myself feel better about my situation or myself (don’t you love my honesty?).  In reality I should be happy with myself and my own accomplishments and not have to slut shame someone to feel all good inside- makes me no better than the macho guy we discussed earlier.

Reason #2:

Some women are genuinely just prudes about sex. Listen, I’m all down for not having sex (shit, I haven’t had sex in 15 months- can’t make this shit up) but to push your views and ideals on other people is some weird cult shit. If you feel sex is a sin until your married that’s cool, because I think Uggs are in fact the greatest original sin. I say ‘to each her own’… even judge them silently if you want to – go home and write in your diary ‘ I judge girls who have sex’ (god knows I write in my diary,’ I judge people who wear Uggs’) but to try to publically shame someone with degrading words like ‘slut’ is just so medieval… would you also like to incorporate stoning with your public degradation, I mean just to stay consistence with your theme and all? Oh and please spare me the whole ‘she has sex bcs she is lost or insecure bit’ it’s old and tired. Women have sex because it’s awesome.

I’m not sure which reason is worse; women being insecure with themselves so they have to bring down another woman, or women being … oh wait… both reasons are fundamentally the same. I don’t want to go quoting Mean Girls here (even though Tina Fey is a God amongst mortals) but seriously when girls call other girls ‘sluts’ it really does make it okay for guys to call us ‘sluts’ ( I paraphrased, I didn’t quote so it’s okay). I’m so looking at myself in the mirror on this one too. Every time I hear a guy call a girl a slut I immediately freak out and rip him a new one on sexual equality but when I hear another female say it’s just like ‘shoulder shrug’.  The use of the word has to stop!

Let us review; the word ‘slut’ is literally supposed to mean ‘dirty’ do we really want to continue the idea that women who enjoy sex are dirty? Is that something we really want to perpetuate? Sex between to consenting adults is healthy and like totally fun ( as far as I can remember)  – there isn’t anything wrong about it. If you think there is maybe you need to develop a healthier relationship with sex, or maybe you need to develop a healthier idea of women ( On this is topic please read one of my recent and all time favorite reads- it’s very interesting and thoughtful ). Or if you’re too lazy to read an entire book go ahead and read this article. Or this awesome article. 

With all that said- I will make a much greater effort in not slut shaming girls I don’t like… moving forward I will call them ignorant or illiterate or something equally progressive yet insulting.

Are deal breakers bad ideas?

ImageDo we close ourselves off to amazing people because of our deal breakers? Are deal breakers really just closed minded rules we use to play it safe? Or are deal breakers a way to ensure that we get exactly what we are paying for?

When I online shop if I can’t get free shipping- that’s a deal breaker. I mean what’s the point of online shopping if I can go to the store buy the same thing, not pay for shipping AND get a workout in (yes, walking around the mall is considered a workout for me- judge me if you must).

I believe I must clarify to firmly and properly drawn line between DBs and preferences. Preferences ( oh boy, do I have a list of those) I believe should be malleable. I feel as though not veering away from your preferences CAN make you closed off to a lot of really great people. Preferences are simply qualities you’d like a person to have, they are qualities that you look for in a person. I love prepster hipsters that’s my preference, but smoking is DB. See that distinction? I wouldn’t be closed off to veering away my extensive list of preferences but I would be 100 percent opposed to dating a smoker.

I have a long list of deal breakers, are you surprised? I have always had deal breakers but only recently have I held true to them (if I had previously stuck to my DBs I probably wouldn’t have a list a mile long of all the losers I’ve dated). Curious as to what my deal breakers are? I thought you would be.

My deal breakers are as follows:

  1. No smokers… my hair will NOT smell like smoke nor will my clothes, oh and I don’t like cancer.
  2. No religious zealots. I can’t date someone that believes a woman was made from a man’s rib. I just can’t, I’m sorry. Nor can I date someone who has to pray five times a day, or someone that fasts (I get ridiculously cranky when I’m hungry)
  3. No unhygienic people. I can’t hold your hand if I’m in fear of contracting a rare but powerful strand of a previously unresearched biological disease.
  4. No ignoramuses. I can’t date someone who thinks Louis Armstrong, Lance Armstrong and Neil Armstrong are all related.
  5. No real geniuses. Not only do I know through personal experience that exceptionally brilliant people are BAT SHIT insane but I also don’t like to date people THAT much smarter than people (I don’t know what that says about me, but whatever)
  6. No frat boys. Frat boys are perfectly fine to brochick with but to try to peruse a relationship, like to actually take one seriously is like trying to do a kegstand in Louboutins… impossible and you’ll look like a fool while doing it.
  7. No “intellectuals”. Okay, smart guys yes but “intellectuals” no. Intellectuals are full of themselves, think they’re smarter (even if they’re not) than everyone around them, and they have perpetual sticks up their tight little asses.
  8. No alcoholics. It’s a given.
  9. No drug addicts. Also a given. I’ve done the whole let me save him thing… fyi it never works
  10. No mamma’s boys. I can’t (again) date someone who asks me to leave his room so his mom can come tickle his back. Mamma’s boys have major issues; they think they’re God’s gift and when you don’t treat them as such their moms bitch you out.
  11. No non-graduates. I just can’t date someone that didn’t go to college. School and education is my thing, you don’t have to understand but it’s just my thing.
  12. No ‘pretty boys’. I can’t date someone who uses hairspray, Aquanet is for pageant queens not boyfriends.
  13. No extreme political conservatives. I can’t date someone who can’t separate church and state.
  14. No tattoo parlor guys. I can’t date you if you look like a public bathroom stall mural.
  15. No litterbugs. If I see you litter I’ll assume you don’t respect the planet, which obviously means you won’t respect me.
  16. No elfs. I can’t date someone shorter than me. I wear 5-6 inch heels on a daily basis and I don’t want my boyfriend mistaken for my son (again).
  17. No daddies. I don’t care for kids in the same way I don’t care for dysentery.
  18. No bisexuals. It’s one think to get insecure about him wanting you to look like a Victoria’s Secret model but it’s quite another to get insecure worrying that he wishes you looked like a man.
  19. No pirates. I can’t take you seriously with earrings. I’m sorry, you remind me of a pirate or Eminem- both of which are equally tragic.
  20. No schizos. I can’t date you if you act one way with me but another with your friends, and another with your parents and another with my parents and another with your dog. Who are you really?
  21. No Hulks. If your arms are bigger than my waist you probably are a gym rat and enjoy a roid infused cocktail… pass, thanks for offering though.
  22. No possessives. If you get insecure and controlling because I dress like a high-class call girl then that’s a deal breaker. Besides I can’t help how Dolce & Gabbana designs their corset tops.
  23. No machos. Ugh hit the snooze button if you talk about how much you lift or how many bitches you hit or about your huge wallet. ZZZzzZzZ
  24. No cheapos. Don’t be cheap with me. If you want to chill at BK do it with another girl.
  25. No Liberaces. If you wear jewelry it is a deal breaker.
  26. No Cruellas. If you hate animals I hate you.
  27. No Athletes or politicos or musicians or cops or hairdressers or brokers or drug dealers or actors or models
  28. No mobsters. Anyone that uses phrases like “ forgettabout it” that’s just a no.
  29. No nationalists. Anyone that has a tattoo of his country or state… I’m sorry you’re excluded from playing this round.

Is that a long list? Maybe. See, the thing is shopping for a boyfriend is like buying a really expensive pair of shoes. When I bought my very first pair Louboutins I wasn’t like oh whatever I guess I’ll settle of the Ronaldos when I really wanted the Biancas. No, I was dropping serious cash on something that I was going to wear for years to come; I wanted exactly what I wanted so I waited until Saks got in the Biancas.

It took me forever to learn how to apply this no-nonsense ideal to my deal breakers. I’ve learned the very very hard way about not following my deal breakers- it just never works out.

If something is so important to you that you would call it a ‘deal breaker’ than it’s a DB for a damn good reason and you shouldn’t second-guess what you want. When guys want or think they deserve something, trust me, they get it. I feel as though society has taught women that it’s okay and healthy to make concessions but in the same sentence tell men to get exactly what they want and not settle for less. Example; I use to date this overwhelmingly insecure guy but instead of him working through his insecurities I was told (and eventually did) change the way I dressed. What is that? No seriously WHAT IS THAT??

When I did online dating (hold for shock) I originally had my standards and deal breakers really high. I stated that I wanted someone with a masters, because that’s like a thing to me… nothing is sexier (besides maybe wayfarers) than a masters. I spent 60 dollars (yes, that is the price of love these days) and for weeks no guys messaged me.. what is this magic? So eventually at the persisting of someone I went on the site with ( my blog always protects people’s anonymity) I lowered my standards and therefore dropped my deal breakers. And BEHOLD! I got messages ! But they were from like guys without bachelor degrees (maybe I sound snotty but that’s fine because that’s MY thing and no one needs to understand it but me. Maybe somebody’s thing is huge muscle guys and that’s their deal breaker although it maybe different than my DBs -I won’t judge it).

I eventually got the hell off that site not only because I personally found it to be the biggest waste of money I had ever spent (and I once bought a 400 dollars tee shirt so this is saying something) but also because eventually it started to make me question the necessity of my deal breakers- and I didn’t want to play that game.

I’m just over saying, ‘he’s a great guy but I wish this’ NO. I’m not going to date ‘He’s a Great Guy But asterisk’… I want to date ‘He’s a Great Guy –period’.

Maybe one day I’ll meet an amazing guy who actually likes me (lol lol lol lol) but he smokes will I forget that deal breaker? No… I hope not at least. I don’t want to make any more concessions for men; maybe if he cares enough he will make the concession this time (and then I will make the concession and allow him to have sex with me when my hair is straightened) .

Is it okay to not having it all ( or anything) together?


Are there ever days where you just want to pull the covers back over your head because your dream was better than your reality? Just this morning I had the most fabulous dream where I was a fashion blogger for PopSugar than of course I woke up and remembered that I was unemployed and live at home with my parents. Fabulous.

I really don’t want to sound snarky that is not my intention at all, I know I am beyond lucky to have parents that allow me to spend the day in my Eberjey pajamas wallowing in my own self-pity but at the same time that’s not what I wanted for myself.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You see, I went to a really great school where I got impressive grades and I spent my summers working for free at internships I even took out thousands upon thousands upon thousands of dollars to do so, yet I still find myself unemployed and when I am employed I am vastly underemployed.

Why isn’t there a class about this in school? Why don’t they tell you this shit? I really did (laugh if you’d like) buy the lie that if I went to a competitive school and worked hard that when I graduated the job of my dreams would be just a reach away. Lies, all lies… of course unless you went into any kind of computers or accounting which of course if you did you are a genius and I envy you.

I was the girl attracted to all things creative. Journalism and English major… I could kill myself for that.

I was THAT girl, the one who wore her Louis Vuitton Neverfull as her book bag and dressed up for class and told everyone she was going to write for Vogue…. Only to wake up and realize post graduation that those jobs are more rare than the most perfect precious yellow diamond.

Needless to say I live in the past. I just can’t move beyond how amazing college was and how unstoppable I felt… a great juxtaposition to the hot mess I am now (emphasis on ‘mess’).

Every time I go back to my college city I try to see if I can get that feeling again, that same feeling of unsurpassable ignorant confidence. I was so ignorant of the World and believed anything I wanted I could make mine and at the time it was true. But I can’t get that feeling anymore, even when I go back and I try to relive it all it’s just not the same. The places are the same, the people are the same, but I’m not the same. I’m older now, I want to say wiser but I know that would be a lie. I’m not wiser just jaded. I feel like it’s some Thomas Wolfe shit, you just can’t go home again.

It truly seems since college everything turned to dog shit. I don’t want to say I have a case of bad luck because I’m not even sure I believe in luck but I can’t shake the feeling that some bad shit is following me.

My luck changed my final summer semester when my one class got canceled and was moved to the following fall semester, a semester that the school wouldn’t give me money for (they are still waiting for their check). During the fall while waiting tables and taking my final class my boyfriend got arrested (and I was almost arrested as an accomplice) for a whole list of charges therefore exposing the secret criminal life he had lived the entire time I knew him (Lifetime movie style). Heartbroken I moved back home and scored a 9-5 job, which turned out to be the job from hell. I worked for two insane single middle-aged women who I’m pretty sure had gigs moonlighting as the gatekeepers of hell. I put up with the emotional abuse for about 9 months before I was verbally assault with curse words and insults for not answering my personal mobile (still, can’t make this shit up).

So now instead of waiting for some positive vibes to come my way I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’m waiting for Sallie Mae to come repossess my life since I owe her about that much. I just can’t help but wonder ‘are things going to get better?’

I’m really trying to turn my shit around, and I don’t believe I can do that if I stay in this negative energy state. In the morning I try to start in a positive mood but after about an hour of job searching I get discouraged and the negative vibes take over. I feel like I’m that Peanuts character but instead of a cloud of dirt around me I just have a cloud of impending doom.


 I bought that ‘positive energy’ charm from Nordstrom, but I’m not sure a gold dipped circle is going to change things anymore; I’m thinking of burning sage in my room. Any other ideas on how to cleanse an aura?

 Ps. I know things could be worse, much worse in fact. Half of me doesn’t really care how I sound but the other half of me doesn’t want to sound like a spoiled chick who is bitching about a chipped fingernail. But I guess judge me if you must.


Do we need attention to feel good about ourselves?


I was up late last night tossing and turning mostly because I was feeling sorry for myself for my non existent love life but also a little because I had way too much caffeine that day. While awake in the early hours of the morning I began to reminisce about the days where I had guys for the pickings. I had the most extensive rainy day guy fund and now I don’t even have a guy to text when I needed attention.

What is a rainy day guy fund? It’s a fund much like your rainy day savings account- you don’t really want to use it but when all your money is gone you’re forced to break into that rainy day fund and use what you got stored in there. A rainy guy fund is a collection of guys you have composed over the years to hang out with, or even just text when you are feeling desperate or lonely for the attention of the opposite sex. The rainy day guy fund usually, at least in my case, isn’t the cream of the crop because those are the guys you are actually going after. The rainy day guy fund is supreme for one thing- consistency. These guys are always there when you need a good confidence boost, they usually tell you how gorgeous and awesome you are, and hell who doesn’t want to hear that? I have a personal rule to never actually date or hook up with a guy in the fund because once you do they are in jeopardy of leaving that fund. Being any kind of physical always brings out a high level of inconstancy and unreliability in males ( I totally felt like Jane Goodall typing that).

I’m sure you’re wondering if guys have rainy day girl funds… and the answer is ‘of course.’ It’s always the guys who don’t want girlfriends that have the largest funds. They don’t want the actual commitment of a girlfriend but they want someone to text or hang out with to reassure themselves that they are indeed attractive, wanted, and cool. This is their subconscious thoughts: ‘ oh I don’t want a girlfriend, but I want you to want to be my girlfriend so I can shut you down because that makes me feel really good about myself.’

I myself would never play games with the guys in my fund; if anything I try to be a loyal and thoughtful friend to them after all they have done me a huge service by being so reliable in the confidence-boosting department.

I actually have had personal experience in the rainy day girl fund. There is this guy I am a little less than friends with, he was never my type and will never be my type but I’m nice and congenial as to not hurt his feelings when he says things like (and I quote) “ I want to kiss the crap out of you.” Like okay? How do I even respond to that? Or things like “ I want to date the crap out of you.” What’s with the repetition of the word crap?? Eventually I got tired of his crap and stopped responding to his texts (although, that did not deter him from sending me texts). This however changed when I found my rainy day guy fund completely depleted. This is sometimes a causality of keeping guys in the rainy day fund too long they maybe grow feelings or want to have sex either way they get tired of the no play zone and move on. So looking at my almost overdrawn funds I decided to respond back to his crap. He told me he was going to be in town and just couldn’t wait to take me out. He told me all the wonderful romantic things we’d do and that he would call me the next day. Then ghost. I didn’t hear from him until he got back home and then he gave me some lame excuse about not having my correct number. Um okay, how did you text me your excuse if you didn’t have my right number? That’s when I realized I was his rainy day fund girl. He didn’t actually want to date me or take me out he just wanted to keep me interested in order to stay in his fund. It all clicked; every time he texted me was to boost his confidence, he wanted me to respond to his texts to give him the attention he needed. Whatever no harm no foul. I wasn’t in the least bit offended, I think rainy day funds are great (or maybe I just didn’t like him so I could have cared less- I think this is more the answer).

Everyone likes that attention from the opposite sex, right? We like it but do we NEED it? I like the attention from the opposite sex but now that I don’t have it anymore I sometimes feel a little shitty (not gonna lie). And I don’t mean shitty like I’m about to do a jackhammer dive off my balcony but shitty like I won a thousand dollars in a bingo game then went to Saks to buy a pair of Louboutins but they didn’t have my size.

I don’t care how modern, or feminist, or progress you are it’s nice to get attention from the opposite sex, I argue it’s a normal want that has nothing to do with being progressive. I might even argue that it’s an innate want that goes back to caveman times (obviously I’m really scientific). In my opinion here lies the problem- are you allowing the desire for male attention define you? Do you want the attention, or do you need it?